Summer and numbers

jay-prajapati-554644-unsplash

Woke up in the capital city

With a drop o’ sweat rolling down one cheek

’twas a summer day without electricity

And I was by the window

With my morning tea

Opposite sat Mum, still busy

Adding up expenses in her diary…

Soon the light in the bulb came back in

But the numbers on paper stayed dodgy…

Advertisements

08:10

 

london-underground-2085648_640

Red ties, brown socks

Little books, Google docs

Lanky frames, big aims

Chins up for the game

Blue pants, white shirts

Wide eyes for what it’s worth

Morning rush, silent murmur

Evening bustle, footsteps firmer

How do you look at it?

Image courtesy of Pixabay

cloak

IMG_20180202_150858

they don’t see the laugh
the talk, the walk
forget the jokes, the art-rock
the crinkle, the quirks
the passion, the works…
your situation is who you become
no matter how far you run
as who should say
it’s bigger than the parts
that make up the one

_

This post is loosely inspired by an Oh Wonder song called Overgrown, which is about being there for a loved one whose depression seems to have taken over their personality .

 

bloom

photo-1439894671367-1904e126d8f1oh, bloom, little one

let the sun drink your hues

let the air carry your song

don’t be afraid to let loose

let your arrival be bold

you will be your own muse

 

Photo courtesy of Jimmy Chang via magdeleine.com

Up before nine

annie-spratt-509212

all of my plans, piling on

all of my friends, moving on

all of my dreams, getting buried

this failure of a life

it’s not what I’d foreseen

but today,

I’m up before nine

smoke in my hair

dust on my skin

and sun in my eyes

young and careless no more

sans escapes, sans lies

 

Photo by Annie Spratt courtesy of magdeleine.com

A bad morning

auto-3079295_1280Have nowhere to be
Been struggling for three
Been milking my stay
My dad told me yesterday
Circling in a passive state
Maybe a decade too late
Dropped my daughter to work today
Said I don’t get how they play
This game of masters and money
I’ve been home for three
With nowhere else to be
No outlet for the tales inside me…

 

photo courtesy of pixabay.com

 

 

 

Roots

IMG_20170521_193749_969.jpg

Try to wash the dirt off my leaves,
The sun would make the drops fly,
Brown would coagulate,
And then you’d sigh.
Green would sprout
With an outward brightness,
An inward progress, shining loud,
Only if you water my roots
That burrow far from the hyped cloud…

 

Madness

IMG_20170416_105634_730

What is this strange thing that occludes her insides
Like dried paint in small, old glass bottles,
Solid and unmoving,
Its cracks making a case for the time it’s been left undisturbed
And unwanted.
This feeling within her of worms gnawing
At a surface she can’t smear with make up
Or hide under a fort of pillows.
This action spurting out of her
Seeming like a storm flying makeshift roofs off a slum.
All these shadows dancing around her,
Trying to convince her that they don’t need light to exist.
What is this madness
Keeping her from all she’s capable of,
From all she could fight and become.
All they are too ignorant to see.
And she,
She’s too tired to try.
All she does is fall,
Doze off, forget,
Looking for an ouster at the very outset.

Compromise

IMG_20170314_233113_926

Bugs,
I’ve let them colonise,
Harbour inside,
Create their own paradise.
Words,
I hear hollow advice,
They’re cold water,
To my wounds,
I taste the lies.
Mirrors
Bring to light
My spots and lines,
Cut, seep, squeeze out
Demons mine.
Darkness
Guzzles my mind
In one swig,
Clear and precise.
There’s no out,
Just in,
So I smile,
Learn to live
With these sighs.

The Tale of the Mistletoe

mistletoe-berries-16393_1280 (1)

“Oh, don’t ever harm Baldur!”

Beseeched Frigg to each & every one.

But overlooking the mistletoe

Brought death to her precious son.

She wept and howled, distraught,

Her tears forming white berries,

This loss even the Gods could feel.

So they brought Baldur back,

Put her out of her misery.

 

It’s an offering dropped from heaven,

Said the Greek and Roman.

For lovers to embrace,

And enemies to find peace.

Resilient like a warrior,

It feeds and heals,

Even when trees shed all their leaves.

 

Elks, chipmunks, robins,

Porcupines and bluebirds,

It brings all together,

And not once cleaves.

In life as in the legend,

Mending, thawing, binding,

Rounding every crease.

 

photo courtesy of pixabay.com