Longing.

Longing

I long to go where the white geese go,
with wings like magnets, drawn outward
and onward by the wild.

I dream to climb the tallest redwood I can find
and scan for miles ‘cross sprawling lands,
pellucid, translucent- rough and sassy seas.

I yearn to see, under my bare, worn feet,
a constant sense of a glorious, Spring,
like the giggling stream over tawny stones
where Celandines shine and mossy banks shall sing.

I ache to hear the Cuckoo call
from distant coppice in rough, raised field,
where Barn Owls too-wit to their other’s too-woo
as sounds of Debussy’s harmonies yield
such light, in the fullness of the orb, for you.

For my desire, shall forever be,
that you alone shall pass, with me.
And there, between our quickened lips
does raise the breath of passion’s warmth,
these timeless, ticking, holy hands,
where life’s encumbrances melt
and Love now, magnificently stands.

Till then, my dreaming shall so deep and languid be,
of Hope for all and all that Life gives back to me.

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In – Justice

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Some of you know I like to play around with words and sounds especially on topics of the heart & soul. In light of all that is going on in various countries, especially the UK and USA, I have written this little piece:
 
In – Justice
Here, in a passionate heart,
murmurs of betrayal irk in turning,
so spitting out white coals, must be,
lest my churning guts do rage with sincere burning….
You think to know me
though in truth,
you want to own me…
I have a Voice and with it I,
therefore, responsible must be….
where injustices are vile illusions
made manifest for all with eyes to see.
Leave not your febrile thoughts
at night between the shards of light
around my door, for therein lies the root of all,
a so called, filthy war.
Debunk this fear and stand together
as keepers of the narrow Gate,
where Love does dwell
and Kindness and Compassion wait.
~ words bubble up when governments wield unjust power upon the people.
FC 22/10/2015

Woman

WOMAN

Soft tears fall silently
on cheeks as she sits
without breath, staring.
“She didn’t know what
it was to be a woman
…… neither do I……..
taught by the best, me.”
Palpable grief, greened
by sickness of heart oozed
out of her every pore.
“Sixty two years of not
knowing how to be WOMAN.”

Air felt cool.
Eyes heavy.
Motionless child
buried in pain filled layers
to hide, to scream, to suffocate,
to die to ever being alive……
“I’m in no man’s land….”
she said….
raising one hand to sky
picturing mother’s
worn, rough skin, the razor
she used to shave her chin,
the hands she used to
break the pheasant’s neck….

Mourning the loss
of possibility
turns from one
generation to the next…
till someone realises
they still have time
to become the woman
they never were.
Only then does
something change…
slowly, gently,

no pushing,

no blame.