Your Mother's HeartbeatWistfully taunting, it echoes your pulselike so,Your Mother's Heartbeat6 years ago in Sensing Winter More Like This
tinnitus stretches walls solid as drums, and you
bury your laughter with lilies on frost-bit toes.
Drawing her likeness on old mugs does naught in lieu
of glass jars holding it pressed on your blue cheek and
would that these ribbons and paper could hold it too.
So I am hanging her scarves like a Neverland
circling the tree, faint with eggnog and cinnamon,
hoping warm carols remember her clapping hands.
Scattering sugar on counters, I tap the thump-
thump of her twinkling eyes, and inside it is
snowing, bright white like her hair in a make-shift bun.
The box is empty but, love, lift it, hugging this
warmth to your heart like a conch pulls her ocean near,
beating in rhythm with every smile. Do not miss
Her voice against your closed eyelids stealing your tears
Holiday memories always weather the years.
Reality Vision.Twisted RealityReality Vision.6 years ago in The Future of Holidays More Like This
A droplet of water dangled from the ceiling. It clung on as dearly as it could, but being unable to talk, it couldnt call for help and, in such a large metropolis, no-one would notice it to save it from losing its grip. Swiftly, it slipped from the tattered roof and fell into the shallow pool forming underneath. Another droplet was already beginning to form on the ceiling, reflections of the surrounding metal walls being twisted through it as it swelled and, eventually, suffered the same fate as the many droplets before it.
The walls were thin and corrugated, and had devolved over the years from a swish silver to the current muddy brown. Just like the floor, they were moist hence the rust peppered across them as casually as seasoning across untested food. In one corner of the room, a metallic puppet shook violently as water dripped into its unsealed circuits. Its mouth shuttered open and closed as it squealed violently, its eyes conveying
Natural Gift.A feather falling, softly whisping,Natural Gift.6 years ago in Sensing Winter More Like This
Skimming past your hair and ears,
Drifting downwards till it nears
Your neck, so slightly tense, yet warm.
Your mouth, smiling, yet clearly torn.
The feather falls to water, glistening,
Swims away past rocks and dirt,
Your eyes watch it, until, quite curt,
It floats once more upon the breeze.
Whisked away above the trees.
Nearby are two wings, undulating,
Flapping with a discrete sound
Until a bird, with one huge bound
Leaves its thin branch, flapping also.
This visual dance is flowing, slow,
But it is all clearly pulsating.
Sweetly ebbing and alive,
A sight to be romanticised.
And yet, my hands reach to your face,
Cover your eyes, remove this place.
Your current sight is just frustrating,
The pinky blackness of my hand
A wall between you and the land.
A cruel gift and a cruel reminder:
Your sight is a beautiful thing
Youll never get to see.