Look into my face, can you see?
The sketches of my past
smiles and frowns etched with age
marks of honor, sun-baked.
Look into my eyes, can you see?
A reflection of yourself?
Glinting shadows sparkle and fade
To soften the hard edge life of late
Read between the lines of living
on the cusp of heaven, grow wings.
Ease, peace, please, appease.
Muster courage, move to light
Hand holding tight.
Look into my face, can you see
You?
Photo credit: Swiss Alps by Ilze Haynes (C) 2019
The feathered bird flips lightly on the low bough and peers
Suspiciously at fronds of smoke waving past his ears
Roundly Red and pale Peach bellies, proudly hide and seek
Circling hoard of humans who visit once a week
Curiously they walk below, felling trunks, digging peat
Bouncing round the fire waving sticks with things to eat
Harmlessly they shape our wood into a tiny home
A private nest, motionless, watching while Red roams.
Remember me, when words fail,
when my face softens, hair and skin fade
Remember me, when memories are gone,
hold them in your own mind and sing my life to me, joyfully.
Remember me, all trials and sufferings, victories and festivals,
labours and laughter, my lessons hard-won – are yours now,
to remember me.
Wonder why
These words of time
Enfolded, embossed in memory cite
Are staved in silence – what else can we say?
New ways to sing no words replace
Hold strong to the ledge
Solid timbre
Huon pine engraved with scars of age
Lashings of yard lines measured secure
To the shore
Though storms berate
Seasons rust and fade
How long? Till the lines fray.
Before bushfire devours what is ours
Let us launch and collect the tattered sails
Set free on open seas
Where words are swept away on wind ‘n tide has final say
Until the moon is no more
We will float above the whitewash
And long for safe harbour no more.
To wonder where?
Lying motionless for weeks
Eyes tracing fleur de lis
The peeling paper of grief
Lit by dappled window
We hauled ourselves o’er river
Up valley, down street
A fortress of relief
Where the sun streams in
Letterbox dropped all over
Exhaustive help depletes
Children playing down the creek
Treated from top to feet
The wardrobe grew expansive
The widening face to greet
In the mirror of my memory
My morning stranger meet
A thickening of walls and doors
A latch that won’t fool many
The welcome mat rolled up and out
For neighbours warm and friendly
The distance and the silence grew
A universe between them
Majestic prose still flows in space
Though gracious few receive it
The stranger in the mirror
Grows accustomed to the stare
Our eyes meet and smile
A sweet surrendered air
Hiding in plain sight
My former figure forgets
Politely nod and carry along
The new friend in our midst
New and aged silver and brave
Though some might say contrary
The glimmer in her eye reveals
The joy in giving Glory
Featured Image: Photo by Hello I’m Nik on Unsplash
We may lay and rise to meet
Expel desire to compete
Friends and strangers’ hearth for feet
Tread the path discreet
Fruit borne plentiful and sweet
Eyes of silence wide asleep
Pierce the mocking vine deceit
Thistle blister seat
Longing not for pride or place
Passion forbade saving face
Hope in holy open space
Gentle saving grace
Poem and Featured Image of Ellendale, Tasmania by Lisa J. Haynes (C) 2018
Image of ruins near Ross, Tasmania – Mercury Newspaper.
Even deep disappointments cannot be drowned;
They will rise and inflate and infect and abound.
Happy are those who suffer no ill;
For all the rest, choose – sweet or bitter pill?
Photo credit: Chip Phillips image from an article: ‘The Explosive potential of methane frozen beneath Abraham Lake’ (Canada)
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