Rooted Deep

Image by Scott Wyden
My poem entry for One Shoot Sunday 29 May 2011, at One Stop Poetry

Rooted deep
on spindly legs, I stand
awash in a foreground
as daily currents change
- my surrounding land.

Perhaps I sat, a bit too still
and languished, in my....
melancholy thoughts.

Nonetheless....
what if it... were you
who stood -
between a bridge and gap
while arched views
drank you in.

Then, when you awoke
from your fruitless reverie
to find - that you've been pummeled
by a sea - now upon the land.

So now I sit, still rooted deep
in filtered clouded hues
no longer do I have an endless view
but in the wake, of all I've seen and see
The one constant in my days...
and life - is me - and you :-)

Free

Image by Walter Parada
My poem entry for One Shoot Sunday 22 May 2011, at One Stop Poetry

I am before you

Naked!

so you can see

all of who I am

a bared soul

who stands

and bleeds.

Look around and see

strength in pillars

which bear our weight

of time and history.

My legs

which carry me, to you

so I may plead - a case

without a shroud.

But most importantly

I stand before you all

as a humble man

exposed beneath

these tyrant clouds

- whose free.

On The Brink

A margin
along the ledge
of a land....
which verges
then converges
when a catastrophe
occurs.

But then...
I reached a point
a state beyond a state
to find...
no helping hand
which could abide.

So here I stand
this crucial ledge
steep along....
my borders edge
drinking, in the view
as I watch.... me spin
this inner vertigo - askew.

Do I cross the border
fall or stand...
on the brink
of this helpless land.

I Remember You

A spiralled bound book
with pages lined
I draft words, longed....
on these sheets of time.

From memories
dredged, deep within
stored in hidden corners
held together, by fingers
and bow wrapped twine.

To remember you
on rainy days
of the sunshine
in our youthful ways.

I remember you
when our love was young
of the giggles had
and the stories told.

So I pen to you
each day of life
my love....
as we grow old.

And I long for you
in this story -
I've now told.

The Darkness Doesn't Know

The deeper, that I go
the darkness doesn't know
nor hide my eyes.

I realize
I'm beyond my depth
just another drowning man
inept, with realizations
caught between her cries.

Rapidly I blink, and stand
stillness, gasping...
as I recall, the breath
of her scented lies.

All the while
I'm drinking in, this frothy air
which I now despise.

Waist deep
in the constant shifting sands
quietly forgetting,
who I am.

The deeper, that I go
the darkness doesn't know
nor hide my eyes.

A Boy with a Dog

Image by Fee Easton
My poem entry for One Shoot Sunday 15 May 2011, at One Stop Poetry

Sit down lad
I’ve a wee story to tell
about a boy and a dog
and his heathery lands.

On bright windy days
when the grass would dance
we’d lay amongst the reds, the purples
and all the plants… and then
I’d dream.

I would close my eyes
and look at the sun
its these memories
that I remember the most
those days with my dog….
we’ll… - they were fun.

Anyway, boy - what’s more to say
you see what “they” see… and
it’s not your fault.

But just bear in mind
behind every eye….
there’s another “me”.

A boy with a dream
and a dog.

In the Iris

Submitted for One Stop Poetry - One Shoot Photography Sunday (Picture Prompt)! 01 May 2011
Photo by Rosa Frei

I was torn on this photo, as I wanted to write an in-depth complicated poem, which dove into the eyes of this man and into his very soul. Easily, ten-thousand lines of life lay beneath, but in the end, simplicity was the journey shown. 

In the corner of my eye

a flash

unable to turn away

you’ve captured

in my iris

not just me

but the memories…

of my past.