Awaiting the sun

Awaiting the sun

11 November 2018

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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

Light in Stone

Light in Stone

23 March 2017

Bliss abstract desktop nexus com largest

 

Twenty-three

Set in my pastures

Shiver past

Death outcast

Coils live unwinding free

Blooming cherry tree

 

Blow sorrows

Easing out the pain

Window pane

Shadow lane

Like a candle in the rain

Set upright the train

 

Light in stone

Miracles to hone

Beyond woods

Bring the goods

Tired faces lose the hoods

On brink of morrows

 

Reading of the poem: 

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Courtesy pinterest.com

 

The World Beyond The Woods – Angels Of Venice

The Enchanted Forest – Angels Of Venice

Within You Without You – Angels of Venice

March defunct

March defunct

7 March 2017

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Courtesy rgbstock com

 

Exam flunked

Student Methodist

Wood artist

With a twist

Presents trophy panelist

A fan to enlist

 

Myth debunked

Shadow turning light

Revived sight

Crouching slight

Figures dancing in the fight

Confusion of plight

 

March defunct

Pulls me to April

Window sill

Peeps on hill

Where the lovers now nest still

Forgotten the kill

 

Reading of the poem: 

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Courtesy pinterest.com

Carolina 1968 – Chico Buarque

Fado Tropical – Chico Buarque

O que será (A flor da terra) – Chico Buarque

My ghost above curtain blades

My ghost above curtain blades

7 March 2017

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They holler

Thieves in window frames

Looting free

Rage in spree

Rampant rise against justice

Excuse injustice

 

March Hatter

Demented eyes glow

The smoke slow

The holes blow

Extrusion mind and matter

Nothing that we know

 

Pinnacle

Of the moving shades

Jack of spades

In red wades

My ghost above curtain blades

Flickers as it fades

 

Reading of the poem: 

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Courtesy pinterest.com

Play Dead – Björk

Blood pearls drip

Blood pearls drip

30 July 2016

bloodpearlsdrop carlosquevedoart com
Courtesy Carlos Quevedo on carlosquevedoart.com

 

Polluted

Minds reek of the fear

Hearts stay clear

On the fence

Truth is the line of defense

Against night crawlers

 

The faith wanes

When the stones shatter

Window panes

My remains

Pick up the pieces of me

Oceanic grave

 

Lines tighten

The net scourging sea

Blood pearls drip

Against skin

Swallow the hurt now within

Red ink diluted

 

Reading of the poem: 

bloodpearlsdrop carlosquevedoart com 2
Courtesy Carlos Quevedo on carlosquevedoart.com

The Rainbow – Thomas Feiner