May blossoms everywhere
pink and bruised.
a full, bulbous heart.
torn,
trampled pulp of
fleshy petals on the sidewalk
bleeding into
the thick veins
of summer’s gleaming cobalt.
watering the day
with the
timbre of another lie.
night buzz and
stagnant warmth, hung
a secret laden
with humid pain
and his laugh.
vacant sorrow that
laid a stone with
belief.
May’s tale is
May’s shame.
Elusive sunshine, playmate of the cassock clouds
Let me soak you in, until you allow.
The birds cackle- happy silhouettes of freedom
In a happier blue sky,
A song of chores and forage, amongst the thicket of
Coloured woods of a depleting August summer.
The gentle breeze, that was yesterday a storm to reckon,
Makes the trees sway and dance to soothe our listless souls
That lay basking in the afternoon drizzle, believing
they will escape what they cannot.
Home is much cherished with pride until
Love is replaced with the truth of what it is not.
And I breathe to myself, a silent whisper-
Heaven and winds churned by the same skies know,
These trees can bend to break and destroy, but do not.
As much as they know me, indefatigable
Beneath the placid armour of livelihood I don,
To make everything simple and worthwhile.
Shine on bright little ones
In the garden of
The month of May.
You sweet little lillies
Of apples- crisp and green
That will ooze tangy sugar
to coat my tongue
a dream,
with or without cinnamon
in pies bearing the colour
of autumn and the
cheer of being together
again.
Until then, my visit beckons
the endless charm of
your white blossoms.
Smiling at me from sunshine,
preening on my hazy thoughts
this fleeting moment
as short as my time here.
Your bowls that will shrink to
form the fruits of my joy
In the garden of
The month of May.
It is a long way to home.
Home, where sometimes I know
no Home.
Well, what is a home
When the heart is
Always a nomad.
Somedays here, somedays there,
Somedays found and
Somedays lost.
The sun shined above the fields of heather for me
Today.
Maybe an invite
Wrapped in purple to lure
and call it a
Home?
*
My mind runs faster
Than my deformed feet.
*
My heart is still sunk
In the memories of
Yesterday’s winter.
The cold and dark
My motel for a long time.
They let go of me
Even the frost needs rent,
And I am penniless
With no dimes to rub or spend.
I am back with my old friend
The shadows from the alleys.
Together we lurk
Like the ghosts of a long lost legend,
Listening to the jingles and looking at the twinkles
Oggling at drunk wanton cherub faces of
Joyous December,
And remembering the warmth in the innards
Of our soul
That could vein in us
With hot boiled spirits.
*
I ran the entire length of spring,
Blooming buds of cherries and daffs and all.
Baby greens dotting the widowed trees,
A new promise laid in
The womb of time.
Branches singing together
With the mirth of mynahs.
Let this be where I breathe
In and out now.
This cloud and sun speckled ground
Where I dance the songs
Of lost dreams.
Lost,
With the youth of time.
But I still know
I am miles away from home.
And I still know,
I will return back to that motel
I once belonged.
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