Ketley

Ketley was a burly man, and because of our differences over the years, he and I stood at the end of an aching pole; his muscled arms were bent on pulling in that monster.  He often snarled mid heave.  I was sure, at times, he would have loved the head on that line to have been mine.  I may have been wrong, but I had chills that morning on the river; strong notions, dare I say it, that I couldn’t cast aside.

He froze my core with his backward glances as he caught me reminiscing.  I knew how wrong, but at the same time, how tantalising my dalliances had been with his shapely fair-haired, sassy woman, whom I did love with all my heart.

Had I been altogether spoiled for choices, I could have kept her, instead of being plainly faced with death’s place underground.  So, I kissed her farewell and braced myself for the wrath of Ketley, but why we had to meet here of all places  was not a curiosity to me.

His sights were held firmly on that there bleak as hell’s charmed water, and god knows what he thought was underneath it all.

“Give me that small hook, will you?” He growled at me with a threatened animal growl – that low noise in its throat – usually, it meant it was angry.  He looked at me hard, and that always made me go cold.  He was angry.

What he called a small hook could have suspended a small calf.  The cold steel was sharp and grey,  and it looked like it could pierce three men at a time – and I was just one.  Still, I had trusted him all of my life, and I didn’t necessarily want to stop now.  Also, I had an escape planned.

I handed the hook to him as I recoiled involuntarily, and at the same time, I watched my sweat be flung into the Four Corners of a god-an awful night’s sea swell.  He swung the steely crook over the boat’s edge and it soon took hold of the hellish, glistening creature he had managed to draw alongside us.  It was magnificent. It was huge!  God almighty, it could have been the devil.  I’d never seen a catch that size.  Heh, in my mind, he should have rode off majestically then and there on that critter!

But instead, he started talking, and not in the angry voice I’d anticipated for most of the night; he was too watchful of the water, and seemingly, any possible onlookers.  I sat back away from him just in case.  He seemed calm and collected as he (just like that) asked me if I felt confident enough to run his livery, and that he ‘knew for damn sure’ I could take care of his wife.  But what about his three kids?

I stammered for quite a while, both inside and out – the words just would not come.  My mouth?  Well, that giant fish from hell was looking mighty interested in its large space as my jaw got wider and wider.   Despite the abundance of torrid sea water, my mouth just plain dried.

“Just as I thought.”  His creased to bust eyebrows all of a sudden burst.  He savagely continued with,  “Thinkin’ with yer groin, but with actions of a jellyfish.  So, yeah, meet yer maker, squirt!|

Plunging into the freezing dark perdition of my predicament, I felt a hitherto calming warmth, as if hell froze for me all that was bad.  Ketley saw wrongdoing and acted… and  I, at the time, only saw curvaceous smiles, fear, her desperation and a hallelujah heaven awaitin’, and so, I indeed acted.  But who was right?

By now that great creature of a fish was as damn inconsequential as one might get.  And me?  I was a goner, but also didn’t altogether mightily care two hoots.  Ketley went home, she froze as she always did and turned for warmth to another, who soon joined me in purgatory for cosy chats and fishing and good times.  I knew just by commons sense, she would soon be joining me.

Cherish the Mortal

Murillo

I speak low lest
my love evaporates
before e’en kissed
by your infant’s breath,
and beg before day’s
whispered hush
ascends to nightfall;
small child, look at me
one last time
before you crawl away as slow
as time roams vast.

Too soon,
tomorrow’s
branches laced
with the chirp of sweet song
will bow to cradle this dear life –
and since time nor death
show mercy –
warm arms
shall send him safely
unto a strange, beatific world,
where all will be waiting

all, except for me.

I Love, You Love – Me, Love.

Source: unknown

I love the calmness of your brain; thoughts –
the way they flow.

I secretly listen for hours
when you actually ‘talk’.

I love your strong arms too
the way they… Oh!

I just love the politics of your body.

I love how you love me,
and how you make me grow.

I know, I love you
as a whole, and not just for show.

I absolutely love your nose, too,
and when it is in profile.

And, I love that you suppose, like so,
that you know my style.

I absolutely love the politics of your body.

Tone

I have been here at WordPress for five years apparently. Thanks to everyone who has supported my efforts, and those in passing, who have stopped a while. Be safe out there until this surreal period of our lives is over. Take care.

guitar-touch-instrument-guitarist

With every sound
of each word uttered
there is pause, a silence –
as if waiting for the touch
of a lover – distant still,
but out there.

Until such time,
words float as poetry,
lightly wrought
on cool staves,
only now just stirring;
no tone is forced, just harsh
and breathy –

they wait, and would wait
forever,
as every song, like love,
is incomplete
until it hears its heart echo.

Tone

guitar-touch-instrument-guitarist

With every sound
of each word uttered
there is pause – a silence,
as if waiting for the touch
of a lover – distant still,
but out there.

Until such time,
words float as poetry
lightly wrought
on cool staves
only now just stirring;
no tone is forced, just harsh
and breathy –

they wait and would wait
forever,
as every song, like love,
is incomplete
until it hears its heart echo.

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Itiswhatitis

Back for a short while after completing what seems like a zillion pendants and zentangle light bottles… don’t ponder… lol.  I have an event this Sunday coming,  then a month of work/rest/restock then some more.  Needed to write so I did.  Garden is great, sun keeps coming – all’s good. Hope you are all well.  I shouldn’t ‘write’ myself off.  I will take it ‘As it Comes’! I can do both.

indiff

Your head feels warm
in my colder arms
as you hold me close,
oblivious, inside my turmoil –

and you speak to me,
only if you’re willing,
otherwise,
go live by yourself.

This fucking honey liqueur,
is too thick to pour,
but somehow it gets me drunk –
does it’s sticky glue create a distance?

Moths fly around me
hurling their abuse,
so please dowse the light –
god, you’re ignorant.

Are we to stay
‘ignited’?
Do we still make a good match?

Since you close your mind,
it is indifference, I feel,

and I wonder aloud
in all of my screams,

and I see the past streaming before me,
till it muddies my glass – it’s all unreal.

What the fuck was it
that we created?

Can we live up to that?
I feel a need.

I sang you songs –
and not inebriated,

I sat on your lap
watching TV.

I thought I belonged,
but was mistaken,

I don’t even belong
to me.

Stuck in the thick of it,
wrangling with these lacy honeyed sleeves,
I’m interrupted by full on indifference;

 it pours from orifices

I thought were mine,
but it is all the stuff that you bleed.

 

Song for a Bluebird

I’m starting another year fundraising for CRUK, and painting my socks off again for my first event on 23rd February.  Sorry I haven’t been able to get around to your blogs and good works yet.  I hope you all have a lovely Valentine’s day,  loving one another, and many others.  Be kind and careful.   Here are some of my hearts for you from last year’s painting spree.  Take care.

Walk me to the end
of love – let us be love.

Fold me where the
seams are stitched,

edges brought closer
till there is no end.

Play me till the piano
aches, when drifting sighs

start dancing, and crooning
violins stop playing.

Lift me like a hope
seeking light from dust,

hold me with your beauty
like a soul on fire –

let me be the risk you take,
dance me to the edge

then wait with me until the end
of love, let us be love.

You Are

love-2331486_960_720.jpgPixabay

(Co written with my then husband to be, Jay Nabonne (2009 ish) 

When I see an attractive woman,
she embodies the best in women
and she becomes you.

You are attraction.

When I see a movie,
lovers kissing and holding hands,
all I can think is you and us.

You are romance

When I look to a future of times shared
and discoveries found together,
I can’t see anyone but you.

You are companionship

When I lie in bed and fantasize,
it’s your face I see
and your body and your sighs.

You are intimacy

When I feel in my heart what I feel for you,
I know there can’t be any other
to take the place of you.

You are love.

And to me, you are

the brushing of my hand against my hair,
I feel your presence interwoven in the strands
because you have been there.

You are the air

when I stop and hear my breath,
I see you as my chest heaves
because you were once there.

You are my heart

when shadows run and fade away,
I glimpse a glance until they return to
see the other part of me.

You are my soul

when light hits my eyes,
and shines on my face between branches
from a nearby place, I see that
 
you are the moon

when heavy breath whispers
into my ears and makes bristle my longing.
I yearn and I am moved and I sway.

You are the wind

when I can feel soft down against my skin
and see the rougher greys of time embraced by
every other person passing, I see

you are man

when time stops and slows
and its gaps are filled with warmth and
radiated energy, I feel

you are the sun

when I can’t breathe and hope to die,
if only to take you with me forever.
Blood surges through my veins. You

are my life

when I hear laughter and a voice
deep in assured tones and his smile
presses down on her face, I think you
 
are my smile

when prints imprint and fingers
interlock as if to feed a need
that can never be sated, I feel you

are my hands

when thoughts of us spur me on to try to make
the world a better place.
It’s all because you’ll be there to see it with me.

You are

my inspiration, my love, my heart’s beat.
A time without you would be a sad waste
of living; all this time later, I still love you.

Inside, Will the Sun Shine?

imagesQRU62QCA

I wish it was possible to live
without a heart,
and walk inside a head
without thoughts
and dread.
And as I was walking in my head,
the lighting wasn’t set –
good moods left me at the lamppost –

its metallic flavour permeated my tongue
as I wrapped my cold arms around it,
while your taste
and the taste of blood
brought me darkness and tears.
I had hoped reinventing
the sunshine would bring me
memories like ham rolls,
and hot mustard
spilled onto a tablecloth of time
where I’d lay out my choices;
of meetings in the square,
casual and attentive,
awash with shadows
when they came to serve the daylight,
and with more than enough warmth
to dry these morbid tears.

I still walk for hours and hours,
but never venture out.

Bring me sunshine,
bring me laughter,
bring me love.

And, I Can Breathe

Jasmine Flower Flowers Beautiful White Delicate

When a heart sinks,
and rivers overflow,
tsunamis explode
onto our everyday,
and love implodes
unceremoniously,
like dams bursting…
Nothing makes sense.
Poetry’s nonsense,
like flowers bending
in sultry breezes
and banks of Jasmine
surrendering their fragrance
confuse my way.
What is happening?
All I know is,
my heart sank
when you left me.

Simple!

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