The heat, pulsing through my veins
Cannot be found in my tears
The joy, dancing in my laughter
Pirouetting in-between breaths
Its a spinning top,
Chasing it’s own reflection
Bouncing off the bristling breeze
That cannot be toppled into silence.
Tag: free verse
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Ice dance
You live in a little snow globe in my heart
I can shake it up and watch as the snow adorns you anew,
Smile and relive that frozen moment—
That fragile, timeless void where we danced,
Where you were mine,
Where it was too warm for snowflakes to touch
I can still tap on the glass,
Hold that little world within,
Where I always kept you,
Quietly adored you
Though now,
I’ll always remain on this side,
Peering through the snow
I can’t join you anymore
My world cannot be held,
At least not by these hands
But no one can take this you from me—
This you, immortalised,
This you, for me alone
For this, I thank you.
I’ll let the snow settle now…
It could never touch you anyway.Imagery inspired by this scene from the film Edward Scissorhands: https://youtu.be/J6xzL0TrsRY
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Open water
Flipped and tumbled by the waves
The swell, relentless
Turning me inside out
In this chaos, calm comes easy
The ocean cannot touch the depth of my stillness here
No
It’s the shore that terrifies me
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Walking with Dante
A strange addictive quality—
The draw of yearning and desire
As though I’m playing hide and seek,
Yet deep down, I don’t want to find you
For the pain and pleasure is the pursuit
The resistance, the obstacles—
Each step a stumble toward a home,
Though I fear what I find will never be enough.
Merely an inn, a halfway place,
It will be the spark alone—
An ember fanned by my own breath
Its flicker swelling into a blinding inferno,
Until I can no longer see the way,
See the truth
Only the figures I manifest—
Dancing…in the flames.
Thus I walk
Willfully ignorant in pursuit of elusive bliss,
I shun the end of the road
For limbo isn’t torment,
If the journey becomes the station.
What do you write after ‘the end’ anyway?
I’d rather die half way than ever pen those words.
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Friday night
It’s a curious dichotomy
Anticipating yet awaiting nothing
Noone is at the door,
Nor will there be
Yet, when the wind rattles the latch,
I glance—
Just in case.
A lonely leaf, crushed into the doormat stares back
There’s still 3 hours till bedtime
Maybe I’ll vacuum tomorrow…
Maybe I wont
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Bird of spring
God make me a bird of spring
Stretching the first time its wings
Wary of the drop below
Yet fearless of what it does not know
Take this knowing away from me
Undo all I’ve seen and set me free
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Under the clock
Perched in the rafters of Waterloo station
Watching the show unfold
A production of epic proportions
Stage left, right, north, south, it’s a free for all!
Some seem to know their lines, others a little lost
Missing their cues, they beg the departure board for clues
Every direction, every face, invites indulgence in sonder
Who are they? Where are they going?
Infinite stories unfolding
Impossible to know
How unsatisfying
In the midst of this choreographed chaos,
Under the disembodied – allegedly iconic – clock, two bodies meet
Greeting with a kiss, a quip and slightly averted glances
Nervous and slightly breathless
A new romance
About to leave the station
Godspeed to you
unsent draft messages 