I look as I walk by
You smile back
Walking ahead
As our souls scream out
Frantically reaching hands
The same eternal longing
Throughout
…five thousand lifetimes
Pulling at us
To please
…give in
How deep is this ocean of feeling
we have set our hearts in
Yet here we are
…Pacing the shore again
Pretending with nods and smiles
While inside
The thunderstorm of connection
has knocked all the power out
Maybe no one would notice
…if I reach for you in the dark
Standing at the station
reading the news of this nation
I became conscious of birds.
The words
I was reading
the thoughts they where feeding
seemed irrelevant.
This earth we are leant.
To much time is spent
lost in thought.
Additional hours can not be bought.
Oh listen to the birds
not the words
And learn to be
Free!
—
Being blind I have software on my mobile which enables the content of the screen to be spoken aloud (http://www.nuance.com/for-individuals/mobile-applications/talks-zooms/index.htm). Several days ago, I was reading the news at the station when I became aware of the birds singing. This prompted the above poem.
What is behind the façade
of those who live it large?
A girl on the make.
She takes
what a poor girl can.
He has no plan
apart from fun.
Together they run.
The sun
will always shine.
The band will always play
and the hay
will be forever sweet
as they dance with nimble feet
without a care
upon the air.
Old Father Time
clears his throat
as the band strikes a sour note.
—
(The reference to dancing with nimble feet upon the air is a reference to Oscar Wilde’s “The Balad of Reading Gaol”. “it is not sweet, with nimble feet, to dance upon the air”, which is, of course a reference to men dangling from the hangman’s rope).
‘Tis long since over.
We are know longer in clover.
In truth we never where.
I stare
At the screen.
The dream
Is gone
And life moves on.
I can’t answer for anyone else, but for me writing helps to combat the insidious effects of long time PTSD.
K Morris - Poet 