Category: poem

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When we wrote letters

I would write a letter again

Because once

When we wrote letters, putting pen to rectangles of thin paper, we would write down words in a format

Address ( where I live)

then , first few lines of politeness

Dear sweet friend

then news, sometimes good , maybe bad

inject humour, lighten the mood, ask about you

Dear friend what will it be

This is how we once spoke

Words on paper tucked into the neat envelope, your address, precious stamp, walk to the post box (red)

A week here a week there and then a reply dear friend

And this is how we spoke

I miss how we spoke

And seeing the letters on the floor, handwriting recognised amongst the bills, other letters

Replying to my questions, neat to start with, almost neat to the end then a scrawl for a signature

Fold it back into the envelope, into a box or a drawer

Safekeeping how we used to speak

How we used to talk

How we once were.

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Petrichor

Open that door and it’s there.

The pitter of sound on the skylights

Warned

The endless rain

Soaking the plants, the ground, droplets balanced on leaves and then falling

Lines of rain

So straight

Then it stops and it’s quieter and all the glass on all the windows is blurred

Not droplets but silver grey smudges

Go outside and the smell is there

Damp earth

Petrichor

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If only

If only I had done better

If only I had tried harder to

If only

But at times I did do better

But no-one saw

But I did it for me

So that when I was feeling that I could have done more, I remember there were times when I did

A reminder that regret is almost futile

And ‘if only’ is just two words

(Watercolour on khadi paper from a couple of weeks ago)
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Confusion

(Sometimes) when confusion is the queen

The rose petals she scatters hesitate mid air and then change direction

floating to the side a little

not sure where to land

So she scoops them up again

quickly

and throws them up high

randomly

Down again fluttering pieces red and pink

Other and thither not bumping but not too far apart

A breath of air disturbs , almost chaos when confusion is queen

She like to laugh, not in cruel amusement but in a delight of sorts that control is lost and that chasing the petals is futile… but fun

and maybe , occasionally, they will land in a pattern 🥀🥀

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So small

Sometimes I am small

The stars are above

My eyes shut tight

So tiny

And the weight, the heaviness of the world is above me

Around me

I can feel small

Painting on board from last year

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heron

a swift elegance

I envy the simplicity

the look

the endless legs

the heavy filght so close to the water surface

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breathe

I awake and I cannot breathe

the weight is on my chest and the vice is clamped around me tight

I cannot breathe

I take in air and the sound whistles in my ears and

I want to cry out for more air

precious air

I can hardly breathe

Then I realise ‘I cannot breathe’ is a lie because I am still breathing

Its just not so easy

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did we dance

did we dance together yesterday

or was it in my imagination

a kind of hope that maybe it was real

that we danced

maybe sang even

together?

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(I hope this will)find you

It hurt

and so I think , as I am still angry, some day I will find you

(its not a threat

more of a promise)

and you will know the pain you have caused me

you will feel how it was

you may not see me

I may not even be near

but you will know it is I

the pain will be there and

you shall feel how it was. Maybe

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the edge

old windowsill

head up and balance

balancing on the edge

the man on the ledge poised

head turning , maybe looking down but then ahead again, perhaps he’ll pull back now

he was just admiring the view

we were all on an edge