Friday 29 September 2017

Cordelia's Grief.


Cordelia’s Grief.

Published at Verse- Virtual

Here I disclaim all my paternal care
-King Lear, Act 1, Scene 1.

Should I complain?
My Lord’s domain is beautiful,
sunnier than home,
filled with mountains, rivers
and vineyards on the rolling hills.
My Lord, great France, is kind and loving.
I want for nothing.

Yet grief fills my nights.

Then I remember, my sisters,
our young lives together.
What hardened your hearts?  
What stole your sisterly affection?

But most I grieve for you, my father.
When I was young I lay in your arms,
trusted you and felt safe there
yet you have cruelly banished me.
What happened to your judgment?
What happened to your love?

I want to let you go.
I want this nightly grief to leave.
The heart-hurt is deep.
I want to be free of it.

But every night, in my very essence,
that place where my spirit dwells,
heavy chains of blood and love
bind me to the full sad weight of you.

O my father, my father,
what happened to you?
Was it only time that diminished you
or did my love make me blind?
























Saturday 9 September 2017

Sun Dance.

If only I could 
throw words 
onto the page
like Jackson Pollock 
threw paint onto the canvas,
a kind of divine anarchy,
beautiful chaos
celebrating nothing 
but itself,
iridescent,
dripping molten stalactites
in flouro red, orange and green
descending
over the primordial world
aeons before 
the red blaze cooled
and life emerged,
slowly,
laboriously,
from the cobalt blue.

Published at One Sentence poems

Friday 8 September 2017

Home

The butcher bird pours
liquid ripple of song
into the blue sky.
The rosella dips his red head
at the stone bird-bath
and drinks in alert delight.
We sit on the verandah.
Your eyes smile.
I reach for your hand.

Published in Naturewriting