turning point

my life etched in the rocks
spotlighted by the late morning sun
shadows and light
flashing by in an instant
the time it takes to graffiti a name
to twist barbed wire into a knot
to give a cloud a name
coyote, tumbleweed, drifter

a straight road through badlands
rolling rocks motionless
like the traveller
uncertain whether to continue
rooted like the sagebrush
tempted, almost, to stay put
become dust and carrion
or golden whispering grass

I was free to dream in Wyoming

I was free to dream in Wyoming
pulled in at the side of the road
considering an epiphany
not a soul in sight
wondering
if I came back here again
would the feeling be the same
the moment and the state of mind
wind dried grasses at the side of the road
silent voices and dark shadows
dizzy under the big sky
thundering of hooves
I look up
there’s no one there
my heartbeat bangs out the seconds
drowns out my whole past
on my knees at the side of the road
consumed by my insignificance
intolerably small
impossible to quantify
my own voice useless against the backdrop
washed into a river bed
herded away by cloud rustlers
I remember thinking
I want to die here
right now
here on this sacred spot
at the side of this road in Wyoming

to be alone on this cloud tonight

to be     alone    on this cloud tonight
white as a bone in a shroud of light

I don’t know how I came to be here
a glow of flames masking my fears

darkening sunsets above and below
threatening the love in overshadow

awaiting my fate I slumber in peace
enveloping weight of covering fleece

the time of angels has come upon me
bells that chime and humble sweetly

the shepherdess watches overseeing
the poetess recites words embracing

to be     alone     on this cloud tonight
white as a bone in a shroud of light

(to read more in this series please click on the Shepherdess tag below)

it’s fate that takes us in the end

i’ve locked the door
afraid the wind will find me
push autumn litter through the letter box
howling like a fox on heat at midnight
when the streetlamps highlight her red hair
and scent fills the town with trepidation

i’m afraid of stalkers
ghosts from the past who whistle down the decades
finding cracks in the plaster of my flaking memories
shaking fists and hurling furies at my windows
that i whitewash over and hide behind
like shops that have gone belly-up and bankrupt

i discourage the postman
allow the garden to overgrow
the nettles and brambles build a barricade
the rooks stand guard in their watchtowers
they warn me when the rusty gate talks to them
wrens gather in chimes

i am but a shadow
a smudge of wood ash fingerprinted on the paintwork
a rent in a moth-eaten tapestry on which
faded stags rear in the face of sudden death
the hunters’ arrows drawing blood from their necks
it’s fate that takes us in the end

 

bloody spring

in Beijing
with Mei Ling
she was 4 foot
six inches tall
yes she was very small

inside the square
when we were there
it was 1989
and the party line
we dared to cross that line

and in my hand
I held her tiny hand
she squeezed mine tight
all day and night
for we were very scared

on June 3rd
we overheard
the sound of shots
they rang out all around
those shooting sounds

students on the ground
as tanks rolled in
on the morning’s wing
I lost Mei Ling
in the uprising’s fall

yes she was very small
despite her standing tall
she was bigger than most of us
and there could be no doubt
when her cries rang out

that our time had died
as the shadows sighed
our voices quelled
in Beijing
in that bloody spring

 

(with a nod to Lou Reed’s ‘Berlin’)

Proxy World

I hide within words unspoken
Afraid of the world outside
The shadows and noisy commotions
The hubbub and all of its lies

I never intended to be this way
And I never was a long time before
The rules of engagement were altered
Like graffiti sprayed on our walls

I used to say what I wanted
Used to say it out loud and be proud
But now my views all lie silent
Hushed with leaves on the ground

For some my words were mistaken
From others false accusations flew
It seems there’s no room for tolerance
I’m tired of bad language and feuds

I’m sorry if this seems ungrateful
There are many who don’t have a voice
Perhaps it’s their turn to take over
I don’t know what’s left to be said

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/proxy/