There is no poetry in my life
without you.
My muse, my light, my soul -
Where have you gone?
One short glorious year
I knew you,
And words came tumbling forth
in joyful song.
But then you left. As quickly
as you came.
And though I've begged you:
Speak, please speak to me.
All I've ever heard
Is silence.
No-thing but silence. Oh.
Is that your final gift to me?
Mandy Edwards (c) 2015.
Tuesday, 22 September 2015
Tempest-Tost
A patch work quilt
in greys and muted blues
unravels in the dark horizon.
The wind-whipped lake
foams at the mouth like miniature horses
drowning in their freedom.
Tawhirimatea (God of winds)
bursts his bellows.
Each squall a heaving primal breath.
Mother Earth, Papatuanuku
bows her head in deference
to her offspring:
Who Is Wild,
long since released
from her embrace.
Sky God, Ranganui
shakes his fist with untold fury;
Eyes flash fire
And rent in two an old man pine.
The heavens open.
We taste those first fat tears, then run.
Mandy Edwards (c) 2015
in greys and muted blues
unravels in the dark horizon.
The wind-whipped lake
foams at the mouth like miniature horses
drowning in their freedom.
Tawhirimatea (God of winds)
bursts his bellows.
Each squall a heaving primal breath.
Mother Earth, Papatuanuku
bows her head in deference
to her offspring:
Who Is Wild,
long since released
from her embrace.
Sky God, Ranganui
shakes his fist with untold fury;
Eyes flash fire
And rent in two an old man pine.
The heavens open.
We taste those first fat tears, then run.
Mandy Edwards (c) 2015
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