Looking into you

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

Giving Plea

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

 

hobart ruins

 

Poem and Featured Image of Ellendale, Tasmania by Lisa J. Haynes (C) 2018

Image of ruins near Ross, Tasmania – Mercury Newspaper.

Horizons open out behind and before my eyes

Where once closed lids were anointed by the sky

A feast of coloured feathered wings adorn the quiet street

Where once a common sparrow was admired

Sprigs of white blossoms litter the greenway edges

Where once the swarm of pests had devoured

A window bush explodes in yellow flowers and vivid green

Where once the worm had eaten all bud and leaf

 

The Springing Sun adorns my bedroom mirror and wall

Where once the light was blinding and the shades my coverall

Pale green new leaves float dreamily on the warm soft breeze

Where once apologies for the diseased tree next door

A drone of bees parade along the front blooming tower

Where once a drone of ghostly voices furled my brow

Little boy lambs bleat delight in hands and friends

Where once they fended alone as eagle descends

 

The tower clock is bypassed for the bustling doctor’s street

Where once the sanctity of pillowed pews was sweet

Hopeful conversations in the sun and houses meet

Where once mere imaginings of popular masses to greet

How ready as we’d ever been to step into Unknown

Where once control had reigned and error was shown

Faces, I daily pray and long to see an Image old

Where once their living wisdom was untold

20170625_151555
Street Art, Konstance, Germany. By ‘Nilko and Rusl’

Gracious Spring Tide

Nothing but the Blood

I gave away my feathers to a wounded bird, mid-flight

She fondled in her fingers and gazed at colours bright.

Both of us now cold, I wandered down the pale pink hall

Warmed by hands and hearts – reciting heaven, gold, gems and all.

With bravery I wore a cross-shaped medal I didn’t earn

A signed and sealed commission of men has joined the funeral burn.

Though many think the flow of blood is death, despair and strife

I know for sure it’s freedom from guilt and our eternal life.

The darkness that I wear will not do for wedding ball

Patiently, I changed the feathers for a pure white shawl.

 

 

Image credit