I’m so happy to see my poem, Stillborn, published alongside some truly excellent writing in the August edition of Red River Review.
Please have a look if you have some time, there is some really great poetry this month. Click on the August 2017 link at the top of the page – Red River Review
Friday afternoon has just rolled in to Melbourne, Australia – I wish you all a wonderful weekend when it makes it to your individual part of the world.
One time I stood on the platform
of Eureka Skydeck, felt my breath catch
as the glass floor dropped away.
An illusion that felt like falling
while standing still–the same way
I feel today, watching you struggle
for words to convey
how the light blooming
for twelve weeks inside you
has gone dark. Wind rushes past.
I hear the floor crack.
The world spins away.
– for Kara & James
It’s a fleeting moment–
a red sky at twilight,
rushing to the long night;
the last russet leaf
clinging to bough
as autumn inhales,
You know this, you’ve felt it
in the grey light of dawn,
in that pause
between waking and finding.
You’ve heard it whisper
through the dry grass
of summer–a promise
tossed on the wind.
blows over fields,
This hand in your hand
is the one, the only
under the sun.
After all the years, the heart-shaped promises,
linked pinkies, a Ponts des Arts love lock
one Spring, it has come now to this –
a sterile room with its too-small-for-two bed,
plastic flowers, faint smell of urine.
She stands bedside, stroking and humming,
remembers spooning one night by the sea.
The setting sun caresses white hair,
tremors become twitches,
I’m not an iceblock. I’m not a teardrop,
mooching around your Long Island Iced Tea.
I’m not chasing dreams, dreaming of Jeannie;
I’m not slowing for one more whistle stop.
I’ve never bridged sighs, I don’t island hop;
I’ve not tasted the free airs of Heaney,
nor held a heart that, like some Houdini,
didn’t vanish with a barbaric yawp.
I have set no flame within love’s hearth
that didn’t burn that shantytown down.
At night, I am king; come morning, uncrowned-
I walk in as Luke, am forced out as Darth.
Rivers are rivers, regardless of flow:
O, stone, be not so; O, stone, be not so.
My dear friend, Nandita, is back with a new blog – Emotional Spaces. Some may remember her previous blog – Manan Unleashed. It looks as though Nandita’s same emotionally-charged writing is set to continue in a new home. Here’s a preview from a site that is well worth a visit.