workshop
Through my eyes
You say you don’t feel beautiful
And you’re not the girl you were
You look into the mirror
It seem that things have changed
But baby,
you need to see what I see
And know you’re still the beauty
You’ve always been
Through my eyes
Don’t trust your eyes
For they only lie
I see how others look at you
And they want you as I do
So baby,
you need to see what I see
And know you’re still the beauty
You’ve always been
Through my eyes
I suddenly came to be
me
an individual
some say unique among myriad
white brethren
Having no religion or direction
I drift in a seeming random route
only connecting with others
by short -lived accident
from which I rebound
The short duration of
my brief lifetime
spirals slowly
inevitably
down
Until at last my beauty crashes
as I join my fellows who fell before me
and mingle with others once unique
in an ephemeral blanket
of a southern snow fall
which melts
Thy Voice May!
If these be
Thy kind words
Of earnest poetic ecstasy
Rise along with the Phoenix
And abide with me
Of that I’m certain
God shall return thy voice to thee.
You shall in time walk
Along with me
But by then
I would be standing isolated
At the threshold of eternity
From where no man
Can ever return
Know this ye.
For I continue to be
A naïve passer by
Retain your love for some one else
I am only a finger
To help erase strife
eyes
eyes hold you there
applause subsides
auditorium empties
another night
another show
whispers heard backstage
stage door creaks on
rusted hinges --
opening, allows players' exit
alleyway awake with footsteps
summer moths flutter naked light-bulbs
on aging brick walls -- casting eerie shadows
shuffle a dozen shoes
to street beyond
on the way for a coffee or drink
aura of performance just played fades --
just ahead of lightning and thunder
actors reach the street
"Muse I"
He comes gently
I hear him in my dreams
gives me inspiration
tells me I can fly.
Softly fleeting whispers
I try to catch the quiet
hold it tightly in my hands
till morning
when on paper
I can write,
making inaudible
whispers come to life.
"Muse II"
Seemingly coming from nowhere
these words that I find
dark, forgotten somewhere
beneath clutter in my mind.
A little thing from old site's blog........................
The canary just dropped dead
while swinging in its cage
just one chirp of fear and dread
a definite pollution gauge
The dog whines scratching at the door
attempting to gain fresh air
escape is what he's begging for
an exit from his usual lair
That fly that's been buzzing all day
is twitching on the oval rug
I guess he's down and out to stay
one less fly, I sit and shrug
."NAKED"
Margaret Ann Waddicor October 13th 2010.
Naked
inflamed curses
slash open wounds;
Words whip like wind cast twigs
against casement vistas,
worn thin to shivering
pools shaken by your passing fling;
Slips stocking-tight
strangle my gullet,
bulge my eyes to see beside;
My skin hides flaps
descending with a clap
thunder plunders my desires;
Knee deep, limb deep,
I sweep you up so high,
my thighs aghast;
Come now children, gather near
you know that it's that time of year
when guiding stars adorn the sky
and reindeer are allowed to fly.
The recent harvest fills your tummy
with nuts and sweets and all things yummy.
Now is the best time to remember
if you've been good outside December.
'Cause Santa and his little band
have kept their tally close to hand.
All of those who haven't been so nice
soon will pay a heavy price.
My heart beats honour
Slicing into your image
Sculpting deep respect.
`
when
a
soul's cry
is
released
in
words
chosen
and picked
and
there
beauty
in
articulation find....
the
soul
has
bridged
a gap
that
touches both
heart and mind....
`
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