Eyes red, suffering
Retreating to a dark room
The thrumming begins
Month: August 2014
Page Rage
The page screams at me,
blinding light that deafens the soul
my weakness turning to obstinacy
I scramble through the thoughts
Rehash the tears
Extrapolating the emotions
Trapped in pockets of hearts
Pure glowing light, covered by words
Punched by grammar
Spritzed with sentimentality
Blank space you cannot win!
You will be ambushed by my nouns
Lashed by my tongue
Pulverized by poetry
Hear this empty page – I do not fear you
Orange on pink..
Just something sweet to make you smile 🙂
.
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I like to dip my toes in pink…
And dance around my dreams…
leaving footprints scattered…
like orange and yellow leaves…
.
.
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Colors make me happy…
.
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My August Project … “A Flower a Day – Garden Portraits 2014″…
Day twenty-five…
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Photography and words by Cicely Robin Laing © 2014
Rainsong
“The water of life”
That’s what she would say
As the fat splodges dashed the window pane
Sliding downwards, softly popping on the sill.
Sometimes it would rain for a whole afternoon
And we would huddle together
Like squirrels, in a drey
Listening to the song of rainfall
Curled up in the lap of safety
Of one another
Those afternoons were our own, back then
No school bell, no work obligations,
No snooze alarm, no phones.
Just rain.
Just you, me and the rain’s song
But what if…
“The world as we know it will still be here in the morning” you say
At 5am I ponder the alternative, just in case
I Cease To Exist
I love that the poem tumbles out of the mouth – nice rhythm
Burning obsession
Tonight her eyes throb
Shadows dance on the ceiling
He lights the last match
Conventional happiness
We do not need the ceremony of it all
The bangs and the whistles,
the champagne on ice
A cascade of glitter
The pastors advice
We do not require our family and friends
To shop for a toaster, or smile for a lens
No taffeta
No limo
No first dance
No ring
No flower girl
No bouquet
No hearts on a string
No need for the stories,the jokes and the cake
The paper that binds you, the fear of mistake
We don’t mean to challenge
Or belie your needs
We love our own pact
He writes, and I read
B-day
I have read this poem 3 times now and am still fascinated by it 🙂
blank page
why have I
bothered to find your crisp cleanness
on the occasion of a ceremony starting
when the last rays of light float on
put on that spot, vocal sounds are pathetic
not sad but with due resolve
a beginning of a word never completed
a hint that has no secret behind it
above the cup
a pair of eyes lurks
below themes we lit on frozen electricity
that cold inspires yelling and dancing
like no song before or since
or slower travel when an emergency looms
focused on their distant future before
the hour is even half gone
birthdays are letting me see
they aren’t clapping and singing
they are a candle being
extinguished
same as any other
but it has its own existence
24 hours for life
If I were to have just one more day on earth with you
I would hold you to my bosom
Shower you in sentiment and kiss your tiny little feet
For twenty four hours I would hold you tight,
Smothering myself with the scent of you
Allowing my perspiration to merge with your tears
Our skin softened and ready, to be sewn
into a blanket
To veil the moment of our passing.
One thousand, four hundred and forty minutes,
It shall never be enough.
A mere drop
in the ocean of grief.
A paltry offering to Amphitrite.
Though a lifetime to me.
If I were to have just one more day
It would be with you.
