Sitting at my piano

Sitting at my piano,
I can see the sky
hear every changing colour
and shadow that passes by

I can feel the water's edge
Or the haunting sound of night,
Footsteps that once walked
Anything beyond my sight

Can a melody paint a picture?
When you believe unseen
The notes will take you anywhere
A feeling as ever been

Drifting

You swam away on the seas,

away from me.

and in my dreams I see you drift away

I tried, I tried,

to reach out to you

But I can hold no sway here

nor in the cataclysm of life

that happens sometimes -

or most of the time.

Nor in the power of the sky,

of the earth and the wild winds;

whose mighty gale took you,

without a second thought of me

I’ll say goodbye

and I’ll never know why

this crash of time and space and

who knows what,

ended up hurting us –

splitting us apart

I don’t ask for reason

I know now there is none to be had

when it comes to that whole question at all -

everything just is, and was, and will be

The march of time left you behind, and

I’m so sorry,  

that the wave didn’t  take me too –

but I’ll always be dreaming of you.

Transforming Energy

My pen has potential energy

Its ink sits waiting for words to be written,

For lines and curves and dots

To become thoughts and prose

An undulating ribbon taking shape.

The ink hasn’t becoming anything yet,

       but it will.

It merely awaits my creative energy to

transform it.

Paralysis

I’ve spent so long in this room

I think it has assimilated me.

The dust has settled down around me

I’m another quiet piece of furniture,

Another piece of clothing

                      carelessly strewn

Cold and still

Time calmly moves on without me,

It doesn’t think of me as it leaves me behind

I watch it wash over me

Like a wave washes over the same stretch of sand -

But gradually tears it away grain by grain,

Unthinking

Relentless

Soon I start to suffocate

In my little silent room

I long for something

                                     What?

Her Secret Garden

The sun no more high in the sky,

Bright light has turned to long shadows,

Autumn’s embrace clutches tighter

As a cool wind blows over cracked leaves:

Behind our house and little garden,

A rusty hinged, vine encrusted gate,

Opens onto quiet woods;

Whose melancholy gaze upon my sister’s window

Never fails to elicit the desire to explore.

Pantomime

Cracks appear on my skin

Slowly splitting me apart

I grow more tired by the day

With every brand new start

This time it will be better

If Einstein’s right I’m mad

But I want so much to believe it

To ignore the experience I’ve had

For a while there I’m brighter

The world suddenly makes sense

But pretty soon I’m down again

To the path that led me hence

I’m no longer so young to make

The excuse that’s there every time

Next time it will be better;

The old repetitive mime

by Genevieve