migrant, writer, work in progress
Peaceful as the dawn
of spring above Lake Como
one silent morning
*
the windows open
while the still soft air wove fresh
sweet scented coolness
*
on our skin we felt
our gentle touch our hands our
lips our mouths musing
*
peaceful as fresh dawn
of spring close by Lake Como
that silent morning
*
wrapped in our lovers’
waking warmth—help us remember,
daughters of memory!
*
**
*
Every morning I sing – the birds above
And earth below move in those dawning musings –
Those twists and turns of dream and thought, those swings
Of mood that drive us off course when we love
*
But when we think we have the lives we hoped we’d live
We sometimes see ourselves as creatures that we feared we’d be –
Monsters of imagination, whom we
Fed because of what we dreamed they’d give –
*
We travelled far through countries strange, and stranger time
Wore out our wishes, blotted all that dreaming shaped in rhyme:
Our vital hopes were blurred – still, half-asleep –
Although throughout it all our vocal passions stirred: racing deep –
*
Till one fine day (like now) we wake, we rub our eyes and then
Realise we’re singing songs of morning once again.
*
**
*
Omm
May 2018
la muse et la petite mort
i sometimes wish I didn’t love you yet
so much that I do I do for you but
nothing ever works for us both, and words mistook cut
us up and out of our connection, when we let them.
*
i always love the way you never get
stuck on stuff – some folk would fall into a rut
when hard and heavy tribulations put
their lives on hold – thoughts mired like fish in a net.
*
but you, you seem to blithely slip
through that wide open ocean of freedom
from all the drifting flotsam pains you ever met
*
setting sail on a climactic far-out trip
through wine-dark heavens, where you and all our friends can come –
loving, yet somehow wishing we didn’t love you, yet…
*
April 2017