When noise
flashes bright
and the light is full
of sound,
dive into my breath,
its twilight, deep indigo.
Take my hand
in your screaming fingers
and hear a whisper
of love.
Then, let go with
everything
and fall into
the space
between stars.
Catch the water
as it shimmers
in springtime sun,
throwing diamonds
in joyful
kisses of light.
The thrill in a heart
to witness
this manifestation
of gems
after the shadows
and depth of night.
Dancing diamonds
give way
to long rays
of slanted sun,
painting the lake
in a quieter gold.
The peace in a heart
to witness and know
from the centre of
Sun, Earth and human heart,
diamonds spring.
Love is the only gold.
Have you ever had a big change in life? This poem comes from dancing through it. Surrendering to the winds of change, then finally, finding home.
When I die,
I will leap
from this party,
I will fling
out my arms
and dance,
a maple key
spinning from tree.
I will tumble
into the chaos
of winds,
surrender,
free.
Touch down,
root into mud,
a new home,
a sapling be.
I had the fortune to visit a friend in Richmond, Yorkshire. Here is an acrostic poem (first letter of each line spells a word) that I was inspired to create. The winter light was absolutely enchanting.
The strangest things out there
catch us unawares.
Spring shone in her skipping step
and bright, daffodil-streaked hair.
A soft frame of petals around a
ready rosebud smile,
I felt the warmth of softest sunlight
when I saw that child.
She stays with me today,
and I wonder, from what world is she from?
One with apples on lush branches
and cascades of lilting bird song.
Not this one, surely, grey
as a pearl-less winters day,
yet this earthly dove
has made me remember love
and the sun breaks through a cloud
and the morning chorus sings loud.
She will make the world her home
turn molten hearts from stone
teach us summer’s power
to walk the world a-flower
and suddenly the cost of
all the world has lost
seems likely to be repaid
all because of one girl, that day.
Three girls with robin egg blue
school skirts past the knee
skip,
linked,
arm entwined in arm
under sudden flurries
of coloured leaves
sailing, swirling,
pirouetting
in orange and gold
glory.
The girls accidentally serenade
the weathered man
on the bench
with their high tones
and laughing songs
about roses and cradles
and cats.
He clutches a bottle,
his eyes open sky.
Arm in arm
the girls step
more slowly now,
the silence of stones
muffling their voices
as the ghostly wind
lifts their skirts
and tangles their hair.
Through the churchyard
they go,
past chalk grey
headstones
at all angles
each holding
the story of a life, a full life,
of a mother, sister, hero,
writer, dreamer, singer,
friend.
At the edge of the road,
a howl of wind
evokes shrieks,
cold bites
at the sweet point
of their necks.
In swirls of robin blue
they hug and break
and wave to each other
dashing down the street,
towards home.
Later that night,
they are tucked up warm.
Through the window cracks
the wind blows in
sounds from the churchyard,
the rattling of leaves,
the rustling of bones,
whispers in the dark
and the drunk man’s
rasping song,
his heart in every note.
I feel there is no wrong way to read this poem. But here is one way, in linear form:
Spider, teach me
for I do not understand
your weavings.
Your symmetry of silk
glistening in grace,
loved by diamond drops of dew
reflecting rainbows in the first sun.
How?
I walk this way
and that,
and know things
and unknow them.
Will you teach me to
navigate the tightropes
with such delicate balance,
to weave my web
into a whole,
a pattern
the dew kisses
and the sun dances upon?
And spider,
once you teach me
to weave
such a wonder,
will you show me how
to let the strands
break and sail
so the earth can know them
once again?
I hope the magic of the woods reaches you through this poem. I felt I was losing myself, who I am in day, as I became a creature of the night.
Inky Cat's Poems 