Verse

Of sunsets and pain in paradise 

The sun is burning anyway;

it doesn’t need more pain.

Earthly love

is hardly ever a bargain.
 

Life cuts

as often as it wets our hearts

with soft clouds

dipped in orange dyed lagoon sunsets.
 

And we are left beating

with the fish washed fresh

off the warm waters

at some faraway paradise bay.
 

Image by Andy Moine

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Verse

Too much rosé


“I’m Taking a year off to head Downsouth,

to be by the ocean and collect my thoughts.”

 

“That is so lovely, I wish I could do the same thing. You really deserve it.”

 

“I just want to step away from the circle

to kind of, deconstruct myself, you know.

Because lately, I’ve felt like most of myself

is borrowed.”

 

“I know, I know- my sister’s friend did a similar thing up in the mountains

and she came back radiant.

Now she makes jewellery and its

going really well. I’m happy for you,

this is so exciting.”

 

“Yes, it is.”
.
After three months of drinking the sweet South,

where at nine in the evening

your options are to sleep

or water the white anthuriums,

a rosé in hand

half-listening to a voice documentary

about Syria (to keep informed)

and the racket of crickets (to keep going on).

In either case, there is only one option for the view: the grand night of ocean sounds, serious stars and coconut palms.

This full-circle view for the last ninety two nights is now cut into the back of my eyes;

and in my long sleeps there was only one dream that I had-

long palms and white stars that swum drunk in a pink sea mass.

 

If at nine o’clock in the evening,

while you are watering white anthuriums

in the seaside South

with a rosé in hand,

you find yourself wondering

‘Now what?’,

clearly, happiness is a semblance.

                    

Marjorie Content

Image – Marjorie Content, Anthurium, Gelatin-silver print, 1931

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Muse

Bedtime story

Once, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But the next second, or after a million rotations of time, there was this colossal heaving existence. It had galaxies of burning stars rushing, black holes imploding secrets and fragile beings hanging desperately to floating rocks in between waging wars, falling in love and losing the plot.

Just like that? Yes, just like that.

In the next galactic second, all this will return to a sweet, harmless nothing. And there will not be a drop of conscience left to wonder if anything happened at all.

Nothing. Something. Hope. Despair.

We are children of apocalyptic chaos as much as we are of a blinding quiet. We are not an in-between kind.

We shine, we crash. This is our nature. This is what we’re made of. This is us.

               

making-something-from-nothing-by-gregory-talley

Image – Making something from nothing by Gregory Talley

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Verse

Fuss

I don’t want to throw it in your face

so, I’d rather drink it myself

and let the red-hot go

hunting through my veins,

taking over.

I’d even lay down,

all prepared

for the grand finale;

but, you keep on scrolling…

Feeling pretty puerile,

I limp back glimpses –

around,

behind,

fleetingly on the side,

but, you keep scrolling.

Are you just as bored as I am, with this game?

But, I have a needle in my heart

and all the salt in the great big world, or my tear glands

couldn’t draw it out-

so, I’ll just wait until we’re in bed

and everything is heavy and damp with my cloud of rain,

and you have to ask.

          

nimbus-by-berndnaut-smilde-yatzer-1

Picture – Nimbus installation by Berndnaut Smilde

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Line

Recipe for life

Get wounded, find healing, learn to love beauty for beauty alone.  

Picture - David Copithorne

Picture – David Copithorne

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