The Shrug

the shrug,
one shoulder raised
a twist of the mouth
a hard crooked line
everything said
it sufficed
i never saw one of them cry
my mother, her mother,
my mothers aunts,
all had eyes that were dry
no funeral tears from them
over the years
the shrug passed on
mother to daughter
that’s life, so what,
suck it up
no point crying over spilled milk
they said
in denial of sadness
hiding their dread
leaving tears to be shed by old men
as the puddles spread on the floor

My Prayers

i wish i could wipe away all the tears
wherever they may come from

life is so often unjust
or do i not understand?

is some god only playing with us?
or are we so deficient in learning?

my prayers, so rare,
are always answered

but not in the way i expect
and not in the way i would want

my prayers are far too powerful
in the hands of a mortal like me

an unwitting player of chess
I can’t see ahead far enough

whatever is given to me
has been taken away from another

it’s worse when it’s someone i love
why must fate be so cruel?

the lessons so seldom are plain
i may never pray again

not until I’m on my death bed
with submissive thanks

what’s the purpose of prayer
when i can’t recognise the answer

Hidden Weeds

with this sorrow comes the sorrow
of every loss I ever had
it’s a pool of hidden depths
full of hidden weeds, obscured

is this the same for those occasions
when I’m glad? do i recall a well of joy?
gladness seems to stand alone
no predictions and no source

I know too well the ebb and flow
joy transcends all of itself
that moment like a rising wave
that bubbles up with light and air

today I cannot turn the tide
I sleep the sleep of constant loss
I’m sick with sad complexities
and all the tears I ever cried

if love were simple, as I think,
this stream would never lead
another sorry sigh away
but would swim me back again

Cheating Fool

a man is a fool when he thinks he can master
with lies, false semblance and trickery
the hearts of many women
he fails to hear all their sisterly whispers
behind closed doors and windows

a man is a fool when he thinks he can master
the hearts of a harem of women
self-deluded by his own shallow charms
he will find he is on a lonely old path
and his harm will be to himself

a man is a fool if he thinks he can master
the minds of many women
the sadness in this is the innocent hurt
those poor girls in love with a fool
may he drown in a pool of their tears

a man is a fool when he thinks he can master
many women on one hidden leash
the days will come, again and again,
when he ties himself up, in a tangled rope,
to finally hang his own soul on a tree
and swing in a sorry wind

Be Kind

 

I look at this world. It brings me to tears.

No changes, no choices, no power, no voice.

Our fears come true instead of our dreams.

Our words echo, reverberate, into a void.

 

I have a dream, just like that man,

the one they killed for speaking the truth.

I have a dream just like the one

that lead to a man being hung on a cross.

 

I wish the world was more like our dreams.

People could base all their actions on love.

I wish we could be all that we want.

I wish I could be all that I need.

 

I have nothing to offer, words don’t cast a spell.

Be kind to each other, remember this well.

 

 

A Love Story ~ Rosa & Arjuna

Two lovers
separated
by the stretch
of open ocean
endless sky
moonlight passing
day to night

Arjuna’s window pointed west
While Rosa’s looked out to the east
Of their love they both were sure

Only water lay between them
Only time would be the test
Whether love could long endure

They had vowed to watch the moon
Each one in their lonely room
Far apart, but close in heart

They watched the silver face
Passing in and out of sight
Held aloft in lovely light

Counting moons
The months passed by
In time Rosa ceased to cry
She had now become enamoured
Of watching starlit nights
And changing skies

Counting moons
The years passed by
Arjuna drowned his tears in books
Slowly he began to write
He described the stars
And all the glories of the night

He described all she saw
As they watched the sky together
Together yet so far apart
They reached a sweet contentments
Beyond the reach of lovers art
Contemplating all they saw

Did they ever meet again?
If fate was kind I think they did.
Where it was I cannot say.
May the light of heaven lead them.
The moon has never shone so bright
As I saw it shine tonight.

The Rose Revives

Sorrow comes and goes,

full-blown rose and petals falling,

sadness passes with morning

the dawning of a bud

arriving.

A rose that opens

perfumes and enlightens

the air and the space it habituates,

a joy when it arrives,

reviving.

Even when watered by tears

deep in its heart there is nectar

to gather and treasure,

the returning life of the rose,

surviving.