Tuesday, 22 September 2015

A Gift.

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.


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