the weight

the weight

of emptiness

flows like history

through the rocks

and gravel

gurgling

silence

in bones

of salmon

and raptors

teeth.

"it is a grizzly affair,

but i love you anyway."

--

another entry at allpoetry dot com. the prompt was along the dry riverbed in late summer.

like a wave

like a wave

the train kept coming

it's shadow

a thousand rhino

slashing forest

spraying gravel

you said something i could not hear

tears welling

in your eyes

reflecting

my silhouette

our world eclipsed.

--

this is another attempt at image - although there is narrative which blurs the line somewhat. the space at the end of the poem is to allow the final line to linger - hopefully adding to the drama of the moment.

quiet among fresh mounds

quiet among

fresh mounds

and

plastic flowers:

from shacks

next to the

cemetery

i hear

a baby

cry.

the rim

of the hole is

polished copper and

green velvet:

grotesque

against the pine coffin,

the rope handles,

the silhouettes of mourners,

afterall, he is a believer.

tethered

girl with

tethered

balloon:

beautiful world

dogged by

featureless moon.

"while we walk,

would you hold my hand?"

too much talk or enough said?

beauty is

a butterfly.

butterflies

do chaos make.

chaos is

womb of life.

life

from chains

is born.

chains to death

hold us fast.

death dies on

your red lips.

--

this was an entry at allpoetry dot com. the prompt was can someone truly understand God - well this pretty much sums up my feelings on the subject.

after reading a poem

i've read you

and yet

all is calm(ing)

with the distant

roar of words

sweetening at the back

of my throat:

too hoarse

to speak

or summon saliva

from underground rivers

that so carefully avoid

veins and such

where eyeballs

lie so that

vaccuous stares

placate onlookers

and i feel

the ferrets

made of moonlight

burrow and finally

blast through

the surface

of my skin like

reversing comets,

and i feel

perfect.

you were

you were there

and i said our story would be told:

when strangers smiled across traffic, bus to bus,

when winter held doves as they fell dead from trees,

when a daughter pried her father's hand open to leave a kiss,

when the full moon separated from the branches,

forever.

a headline reads 'Boksburg Stripper Dies On Job'

at the Sandton City Mugg & Bean

a young couple

order an early breakfast

he's chosen a corner

but not an alcove

he looks mediterranean

she's an indian girl

he's a football fan

she's in jeans and a knitted

jersey with hair loose

over her shoulders

at a table for two

he sits next to her

they exchange glances,

smiles, quiet words

when the bill comes

he leaves to find an atm

when he comes back

she smiles again

as they leave

she clutches her bag

with him walking two steps

behind her

you can tell

it's not quite love.

--

a little slice of life i was privileged enough to witness.