You come to me your golden gown floating in the breeze. For a while we dally in the woods rich with the scent of the dying year. Beautiful in your approaching death, golden tresses fall, our mouths meet hungrily for soon you must go. A new stern mistress will I have dressed in snow and ice.
Something intangible is passing, perhaps it is long since gone. Walking among these trees, I feel sadness carried on the breeze. Something great and profound has vanished, forever lost in the mists of time. Soon the leaves will fall to the ground, rich golden brown. Something is gone, impossible to express or define, that which is destroyed by time.
I can not express what I want to say, words fly erratically away. Trees representing permanence stand but something is lost, I only dimly understand.
Oh that I might, in the softness of night, steal a kiss from your lips. Oh that my hands might go awandering in your unexplored land. Your mysteries remain hidden, forever forbidden to those such as I, who yearn to walk at your side. Oh to lie in your arms and forget life’s harms. Beauty or duty?I do forget myself.
Day gently merging into night. The soft caress of dark comingled with the light, inseparable, joined eternally in a dance of love.
Lethargy holds sway. People mop their brows, move reluctantly onwards trying in vain to escape the deadening blanket of heat. Like a giant hand held too close to the face the heat stops our breath, we gasp longing for the blessed rain.
The over heated brain yearns for quiet, a shady nook in which to find relief from the myriad thoughts and fears that pervade it, but the rain when it comes is warm and heavy providing little restbite from the giant’s all encompassing hand.
Fruit hanging within temptation’s reach. Ripe, overflowing with juice, crying out to be picked. Oh how smooth and firm to the touch, dangling provocatively low, Longing to be picked, savoured and enjoyed.
Love and lust all end in dust. Standing at the mirror applying makeup, hiding who you are, but who are you anyway? A girl seeking for something beyond your grasp, you trip gaily down the primrose path to destruction. You laugh the sound signifies I no not what.
The sound of the surf, swish, swish as the great waves come and go fills my head. The tide sweeps all before it, the great waves flattening sand castles and all our human works. At first the moat fills with water but the castle still stands grand and tall against the tide’s mighty roar. Slowly walls subside the whole being taken back by the great ocean, returning to whence it came.
Standing on the cliff edge the roar fills my ears. The hypnotic sound of waves breaking and receeding is all that can be heard. The world is drowning being taken back by the great atlantic. All will eventually pass but not quite yet for slowly the tide receeds but tomorrow he will return in all his mighty glory and anger reminding us that we are mere men. Time and tide wait for no man, both keep rolling, humans attempt to run and hide but, eventually all will be brought low like the puny sand castles we built as children.
Slowly I replace the conch shell on the shelf in my living room. The sound of the clock reasserts itself and distant twittering of birds is heard.
Listening to cars passing their engines lost in the distance never to return. Like seconds ticking the traffick moves inexorably onwards. What is the purpose? Why must I die and be forever lost in the emptiness of death?
Beautiful red rose your petals barely opened. Your scent overpowers me, I am giddy with desire. Softly I stretch out my fingers gently caressing your petals. A thing so lovely and delicate so easily destroyed. Oh to possess you rose, to pick and make you mine. Once picked your splendour fades you are a thing no longer desired, onto the compost heap you go your sweetness forgotten forever.
K Morris - Poet 