Spaces

When people are no longer in your life they leave spaces,
places where their smile and footprints can still hide,
silent, invisible, unknown parts of who they were, and
what they meant to you; secret gifts in memory do lie.

As dust settles around the shape of objects so that when
removed, there is the form of what they were, held clear,
until the hand or years wipes clean that impression, they
will remain, as something shadowed, but still seen.

So it is with those we love and who have loved us in return,
for love is both the entity and the force which mould,
and holds in place, the truth of their existence, pressed firm
upon the counters of our caring; eternity does hold.

Though rooms be shadowed and the thoughts so dimly lit,
candled hope will flicker at the edge of mind and dreams,
revealing, reminding, honouring what was once there;
nothing ever lost, no matter how empty life may seem.

coil

Words tripped and tangled, teased at the edge of thought,
not knowing if they should fling themselves out and be seen,
and heard and known, because of the story they carried;
because of what they would say to others and reveal.

Instead they waited, in silent coil, rolled around my tongue,
reluctant to release, unwind, be laid straight upon the world,
devoid of shape and form; made vulnerable and bare;
gripping, ever more powerfully upon themselves; beware.

http://margoroby.com/2014/02/04/poem-tryouts-what-a-coil/#respond

shape-shift

Image blurred, edges fade, distinction disappears,
as someone known so well and truly shown,
shape-shifts into form unknown, but never as imagined;
so do the years bring bitter seeds unsown.



Do shamans bend and brood in smoke-filled caverns,
beyond the world material as we believe,
enticing who you were and pulling on your mind;
as change demands the heart to surely grieve?

In realms beyond the literal and what is physical,
is spirit so dissected, drawn apart by shining knives,
that bone and sinew, flesh and blood are laid;
waiting to be stitched in place as you revived?



For now the pieces scatter on the seas of reason,
no chance to sift remains of self and days,
just wait to hear the angels whisper words of comfort;
and hope to hear the siren song of soul remade.

Repeat

Does life repeat the lessons,
the ones that we have missed,
reminding Self that yet again,
it needs to be expressed?

Does life repeat the lessons,
to teach us who we are,
reminding Soul that yet again,
our fate is drawing far?

Does life repeat the lessons,
because we did not learn,
and mastering is what we need;
for which our heart does yearn?

Does life repeat the lessons,
because it is the way,
that we can keep on growing;
our destiny is made.

Hope

Hope slung in morbid heaviness upon time's shoulders,
the substance of the future, queer, unrecognised,
so mind could pack within the trunk of possibilities;
that reason, like an elephant could carry light.

Fireflies as thoughts did gather round flame ribbons,
as luggage sat upon the porch of distant past,
and moon, transformed from sliver to full crescent;
signalled change in cascade incandescent.

The goddess gathered up long lines of all maternal,
mother, grandmother and all who went before,
their voices thrumming through the heart of daughter;
child-like she wrestled, drawn to be the fool.

Smell of dampened lawn in green, wild depressing,
odours redolent and herbal, oranges, persimmon,
did crown the hollow hours like floral, rich patchouli;
hanging, dangling, taunting on the marriage hem.

Formidable the mothers cried in ancient unison,
the rhyme of reason typing history's words,
to weave intent,  a rope which tied her to them;
so did she jump and skip as rain washed hurts.

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2014/02/02/we-wordle-5/#respond


slung, heaviness, substance - Misky
elephant, trunk, queer - Robyn
fireflies, ribbons, porch - Annell
sliver, full, crescent - Yousei
cascade, grandmother, incandescent - Irene
thrumming, child-like, fool - Elizabeth
green, smell, tinkling - Marian
patchouli, wild, herbal - Debi
persimmon, crown, hem - Nicole
formidable, typing, rhyme - Jules
rope, rain, jump - Hannah

Indiscretion

The word did haunt the halls of heart-
indiscretion.
It echoed hollow through the rooms of mind-
indiscretion.
And yet demanded it would be a part -
indiscretion.
Held the hand of hope for love to find -
indiscretion.
Knew that fear would hold but never last-
indiscretion.
Abandonment had taken hold of time-
indiscretion.


And second try:

REPEAT

Does life repeat the lessons,
the ones that we have missed,
reminding Self that yet again,
it needs to be expressed?

Does life repeat the lessons,
to teach us who we are,
reminding Soul that yet again,
our fate is drawing far?

Does life repeat the lessons,
because we did not learn,
and mastering is what we need;
for which our heart does yearn?

Does life repeat the lessons,
because it is the way,
that we can keep on growing;
our destiny is made.

http://dversepoets.com/2014/02/01/poetics-repeat-performance-first-time-through/#comment-55887

Conflict

Conflict is pregnant with possibility
because it is the place of destruction,
and with the end of something,
from the shattered remnants and
scattered remains, can be born
something new; can the old be
transformed and re-birth be
brought from death into life.

This is Pluto's realm and playing
field, that place where all that was
is brought to nothing, or at least
not what it was or would ever be
again. Where fires rage and
consume and the god hurls brutal
bolts, to ravage and lay waste;
embers breathe in black hope.