Leaving

The jacarandas are in flower
as the blossoms fall purple,
small deaths, sighing at
the side of open suitcases,

coming to rest in the dust of
gathering memories, waiting
to be packed along with the
myriad possessions; dregs

of life and tree, scattered in
that song of inevitable ending,
where what was, can be no
more and what is, calls, in

soulful whisper, reminding
all is impermanent, nothing
lasts, or can endure, beyond
its allotted time and for the

expatriate, there will always
be a moment to go home, just
as the tree sheds its beauty,
making way for something

new, and for that which is
destined to come after -
fated to the turn of the wheel
of life, the eternal cycle,

slowly spinning in silence,
unseen, revolutions of days
and minutes, dropping into
the past, as the now rises

in gentle roll, to the top of
consciousness, holding for
a brief reality, impressed
as template of our being;

so we begin and move to
our created end, which
has always been written
even if we did not know it.

Headland

Headland huddled holding staggered ground,
house held fragile against the misted sea,
in distant gazing, silenced windows;
nothing but the sigh of breathing waves is found.

As if dropped at once into final, steady place,
with each rock gathered from the falling cliff,
and pressed tightly into possibility and hope;
so does this small refuge sit with grace.

High above the suck and shrug of salty ocean,
tossing songs of crusting, ancient words,
cossetted by golden, keening bush and leaf;
trailing dusty hands with eloquent emotion.

Horizon hurls itself into its brutal destiny,
far away from what is here and now,
calling softly on the scuds of foaming light;
so my home sits quiet, ever waiting.

http://margoroby.com/2015/09/29/poem-tryouts-this-is-where-i-want-to-be/

There is no death

There is no death,
just emerging
from material form,
with a shake of damp,
fresh wings of
remembering, and
a smile for the familiar,
the known and what
has always been, and
was, even in the time
of earthly forgetting,
held within the
cocoon of incarnation,
protected by the shell
of Self which caressed
for that brief time,
your eternal Soul.

Pathetic

Pathetic was demeanour,
pitiful to see,
holding onto victimhood,
refusing to be me.

Lamentable the moaning,
inadequate the mind,
wretched was my state;
reason left behind.

Plaintive were my cries,
feeble was my heart,
paltry was all comfort;
hope was torn apart.

Harrowing the moments,
poignant and forlorn,
grieving in my sorrow;
dreams forever yawn.

Righteous was my feeling,
moral and profound,
principled my keening;
ethical my ground.

Rightful were my cries,
allowable my pain,
acceptable my raging;
noble was my gain.

Until the angels cautioned,
sedate in their appeals,
gentle, calm and soothing;
tranquil could I feel.

And in that place of reason,
where dignity did live,
I could summon memory,
remember how to give.

Shaking off the mantle,
of my victimhood,
grace did settle quietly;
forgive you, I then could.

 

http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

Flee

Flee the valley of your dreams,
free yourself and fly,
dash into the realms of real
where hope does not deny.

Let not demons trick you,
evict you from your place,
taint the scent of wonder,
try to dissolve grace.

When the days subside,
and time's no more a threat,
in the nick of time you rise;
soar on heaven's breath.


https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2015/09/19/wordle-217/#comment-4922

Solace

Curious cup filled silently,
as if to find a way,
of understanding sorrow;
black cat of inner play.

Solace sipped so slowly,
drank the wine of grief,
stomach surely soured;
Love would find no peace.









http://dversepoets.com/2015/08/27/10746/#comment-99654

Menacing

Menacing the universe,
until we understand,
see rampant love around us;
unravel in God's plan.


http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2015/08/3ww-week-no-442.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ThreeWordWednesday+%28Three+Word+Wednesday.%29