The one that got away

Time moves slowly as I roll back
sinking gently, silently beneath the surface.
My breathing becomes me it is
my metronome, my calming force.

The cooling touch, the softest tug,
the absolute ambiance of water.
Balancing carefully as I glide deeper
below me the sunlight dances dappled
a myriad of colours show shining brightly.

The shoal tide turns suddenly
glinting like a thousand tiny mirrors
reflecting an almost angelic beauty.
I close my eyes and cast back
to capture your face, a glimpse
but it was your soul I saw.



(prompt: dappled sunlight glinting on shiny objects like a friends soul)

Diving in a dream

Hear the groan of the streets
tired and stressed, frantic
with the Friday night traffic.

Engines grumble onwards
fumes gather in smog like form
as we edge slowly closer.

City smells fade away as
our gleaming car glides seawards
on this steaming tarmac highway.

Chasing the sunset down
a stream of shining eyes alight
beams racing forwards.

Passing though worlds apart
the neatly trimmed lawns
of this southern suburbia.

The beach house greets us
it sand blasted sides softened
by twilight's gentle touch.

The veneer of city life is washed off
from wandering on the veranda
listening to cicadas sing.

Tomorrow we will begin
our exploring of this alien world,
silently sinking under the waves.

Tonight walking barefoot
on the cooling sands, drinking in
the breeze, we are holding hands.

Searching for seashells in the surf
we found it, perfectly smooth, rounded,
a polished piece of sea glass.

The years move like tides
not waiting for the past
I remember it all, just from a touch.

Demoiselles

As the mist clears from the hidden valley's depths
a picture painted before us in nature's vast palette.
Standing on the silver shore looking inwards
past the hedge of pink hibiscus breaking
the wind's relentless onshore march,
bringing sweet relief for those living within.
Beneath the copious canopy of high rise trees
dancing to the tinkling tune of falling mountain stream
the Demoiselles display a magic all of their own.


* To see a picture of these beautiful type of damselflies see:  Demoiselle picture

The Mouse

I cannot recall why
it caught my eye,
the small blob of brown
fur on the ground.
I turned to examine
closer what I had found.
The tiny mouse lay still,
his head hidden, killed?
As if stepped on, left to die
by someone walking by.
For a second the urge of old
to nurture took hold of me,
I squashed it with adult logic
picking up dead mice is not hygienic!
But my child like wonder could not fail
as I admired his delicate foot & tail.
A moment of my time spent, I'll now keep
in honouring this fallen son of Reepicheep.

Released

Alas the beast still lives,
though free to roam further
it does return, in vengeance
spitting scarlet anger
it has not been tamed.
When provoked he reigns supreme,
oozing adrenaline into my veins
his wrath a fearsome force
searing body and mind, tearing holes
in the fabric of my fable existence.
Corrosion coursing across the
synaptic nerves of my sanity,
the dank blood coloured mist lingers on.
His life spark a unbending need for justice,
for the wrongs to be avenged,
for the truth to rise above
the sea of lies he abhors.
In his crazed myopic mission
he is oblivious to the pain,
he struggles on fighting the waves
that engulf the vessel I have become.

Fireflies

Floating quietly amid the dust motes of reality they wait,
forever held in the moment they were formed,
then shattered when we woke.

Walking on clouds; running down corridors;
trying to find that which was lost, a kiss, a touch,
all swimming together now, just waiting for sleep's arrival.

Like fireflies they gather, singing sweet melodies,
yet heard only from within, fragments; slivers;
the shimmering shards of a dream.

My Friend (Poetry) - Revised

It was a fascination, an unexplained obsession
a need that had to be pursued. I know not why
I gave up asking, but know that this happened for a reason.

Was this reason for, or because of you?
Maybe it's my destiny, a need to become more
than I ever hoped for, to feel a personal success.

Yet as the story unfolds I find gems
worth more than bullion gold,
chance encounters with poetic souls.

The gifted ones, who with a stroke of the pen
reduce me to tears, or transport me to another domain
then feed me with food for my heart and mind.

They humble me with a kindness of the soul
strength in the face of adversity
the like of which I have never known,
touched by passion to instill change upon the world.

So I thank you most kindly my friend
for such a perfect introduction
and for the candle flame, lit for me
leading me out of the crowded darkness.