Awaiting the sun

Awaiting the sun

11 November 2018

sunrise pinterest com 3
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

The rhythm is that of the wind against the fallen leaves like a banshee wailing. Her mind syntonises with it finally as she picks up pieces of the shattered glass in front of her. There is no saying how much time the wind will continue to blow relentless. Her mind blows with the wind, flying high in the sky gathering momentum. At the same time her body continues to mechanically operate on its own. She carefully stacks the pieces of shattered glass in front of her and starts her daily work of repairing the window pane again.

She must have repaired it a hundred times yet every sunrise, the storm strikes at the same place again with the tree breaking through the window instantly killing her husband yet another time. Every day she wakes up again with the agony of knowing that she will again witness the scene of her husband’s death. The torture of knowing that initially numbed by the pain of his horrific death all she will be able to do is pick up the pieces of the shattered glass and start repairing the window as if to negate that it happened at all pursues her daily. She lives dreading the moment of initial sunshine which once made both her husband and her so happy.

She realises that she will never be able to grieve the loss of her husband as by the time she has finished repairing the window it is night time again and she falls asleep, exhausted. The first days that it happens, she does not remember exactly what has occurred but is only left with a sense of foreboding. Upon waking up that sense of foreboding slowly grows throughout the first week although it remains quite hazy. As time goes by , however, memories of the day before play back with excruciating precision.

She usually wakes up already knowing what will happen and totally helpless as she watches the events unfold. All she can do is repair the window in a wild and desperate hope that the next time, maybe at least once, it will not give way as the tree comes crashing through. Some days she would work her fingers sore until the nails almost peel and her fingers bleed and yet the next morning she would wake up to perfectly manicured fingers, her stomach tense with the knowledge of the oncoming onslaught.

Her mind soars higher as her fingers work swiftly repairing the window pane. She feels the moment when the night descends softly around her body that falls back on the bed. She watches as she lies almost lifeless her breath ragged as she struggles to overcome the sleepiness. Yet the slumber slowly overcomes her and her breath becomes more peaceful. It is the darkest point of the night now. Soon the killer dawn will strike again. She watches the body of her husband turn around and embrace her body.

Something inside her chest expands and she feels it stirring her body as she looks onward. The sun is about to rise and the winds are still howling. Her mind continues its wild jig with the winds. She knows that as the sun rises the storm will pick up strength and the tree will fall over breaking through the window pane. Her mind stills itself as the winds continue howling. The first rays of the sun pierce the horizon.

She opens wide her mouth and as it slowly rises she finally swallows the sun and the storm slowly loses its strength. Darkness falls all around as heat scorches her mind. She can feel the light exploding throughout her skull. She clenches her jaws as her mind maintains its stranglehold on the sun. The tree never moves again. She rolls her tongue softly over the blisters on her tongue. In the darkness beside her she can hear the soft breath of her husband. She utters a soft sigh and turns toward him holding him tight.

Let’s pretend – Tindersticks

Death converts to life

Death converts to life

8 September 2018

death converts to life deviantart com a_woman_in_the_stars_by_cloudy_melody
Courtesy deviantart.com

 

Highways will lead North

Where fog and sea surrender

Intimate lacing

 

Wish upon my bones

Call to the elders that know

Stories of caskets

 

Moonbeams grow shadows

Within heart of the meadows

Fairies live prancing

 

Hold my gaze to skies

Illuminate my bosom

Rose insulates me

 

Lightning bears a door

In between threads and the bolt

A crack reveals light

 

Invert destinies

Redress stories of duress

Death converts to life

 

Reading of the poem: 

Don’t let me down ft Daya – The Chainsmokers

Alone we are not lonesome

Alone we are not lonesome

19 June 2018

Alonewoman pinterest com 2
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Leaves fall off the tree

Yellow butterflies to ground

Moss heather and stone

Mind’s criss-cross of highs and lows

Tangled webs of slain desires

 

Clouds gathered in skies

Raindrops showering gardens

Pond fish thirst alive

Mind’s preoccupations cloud

Soul reaching out to rainbows

 

Birds’ flight back to nest

Huddled sounds of nestling wings

Pairs to one’s solace

Breath of the divine inside

Alone we are not lonesome

 

Reading of the poem: 

Exaudi Vocem Meam Part I – Dark Sanctuary

Le Rêve de la Nymphe – Dark Sanctuary

Les entrailles de ce Purgatoire – Dark Sanctuary

Dust

Dust

22 May 2018

Storm woman Andy Bate

 

The night exhaled the scent of jasmine into her nostrils. She opened her eyes and peered into the darkness. She could hardly make out the outline of the jasmine tree’s branches. The pot with the tree had been removed by a friend who had taken the jasmine tree but the branches clung to the little hedge and still flowered. It was a curious thing to ponder on really. How those flowers could still bloom and the leaves still stay green while the tree had been snipped away from them was another of the mysteries of life. She went back inside her room where the darkness was thicker and lay her head on the pillow. She would check tomorrow if the leaves had begun to wither finally and she would then disentangle them from the hedge and cast them away.

The next morning was a gloomy grey morning as the dust from an oncoming sandstorm piled into the skies. She went to check the hedge and surely enough after their display of frantic desire to survive the branches were going limp and some leaves had turned yellow. The flowers too seemed withered and forlorn. She wondered if she should take them off right now or wait for all the leaves to become yellow before she would throw them in the bin. Looking at those desperate branches made her think of the eventuality of what consciousness went through when the body came to pass. Did all people’s consciousness linger desperately for a while without a body trying to find a way back into this life or unlike the flowers did they just stop blooming and join the collective consciousness the minute the body’s time ended ?

The dust in the air thickened and she could feel her throat going hoarse as the particles invaded her nostrils and found their way into her lungs. She sneezed as the wind picked up moving more dust her way. The branches heaved on the hedge and some of the yellow leaves flew with the wind before it settled bringing them to the ground. She reached out into the hedge and started easing the branches off it. As she piled the leaves into a heap, the wind picked up again and the branches scattered all across the pathway. The sky grew darker as more sand flew with the wind walling off the sun’s rays. She continued easing off the branches and finally gathering them together she cast them into the bin outside the gate. As she entered the house she could still smell the wane scent of jasmine mingled with the unmistakable sandy smell of the dust in the wind.

Dust in the wind – Melanie Safka

Throbs and vibrations

Throbs and vibrations

1 April 2018

throbs paranormal hu
Courtesy paranormal.hu

 

The river flows

Endless and coursing

Through the rocks

It pulses

Sound of life and afterlife

Throbs and vibrations

 

Reading of the poem: 

Double Dutch – Jesse Cook

The Fallen

The Fallen

11 November 2017

Christian schloe pinterest com 26
Courtesy Christian schloe on pinterest.com

 

I watch them

Intelligent play

In Encores

Bravados

Conquering us within Time

A crestfallen mime

 

Rise above

Walk into the love

Whisper me

I am wind

Reverberating silence

When the treetops dance

 

Listen well

We are hearts that swell

Renouncing

The Fallen

From dreamtime uncovered hell

No story to tell

 

Reading of the poem: 

Delerium – Fallen (Превод)

Growing sunshine pours

Growing sunshine pours

16 May 2017

light in5d com (2)
Courtesy in5d.com

 

Hark listen

The bark whispers thin

Winding through

Willow tree

Speaking of when we ran free

Children of the Blue

 

Who is who

We know not answer

Question posed

Undisclosed

The winding wells tell secrets

Of Love and regrets

 

Wash my skin

Hone my growing fin

Morrows kin

Usher in

True light invading my doors

Growing sunshine pours

 

Reading of the poem: 

balance loveandlightportal com
Courtesy loveandlightportal.com

No Love Lost – Bvdub

Morning Rituals – Bvdub

My Sun shines through your Rain – Bvdub