The stream (all workshops)
`
Let a song rise through your tears,
Let a smile crease your wet cheeks.
Invoke kindness even when pain follows;
Let the bright of morning kiss your lips.
Let this song its sounds caress
They wipe away the raindrops and
make the echoes flee in the dark of night;
A long day floats away in its melody.
Let sleep quietly soft, lift you up
in the crook of its gentle arms tonight.
Let twinkling stars line your misty dreams.
Set sail on a shimmering crystal sea.
`
it will take a blink
for your name to become
unknown
i will untangle my hair
each letter of you
comb them through
un-use my fingers
the clench and fist
swallow of tongue
on your judgments
to finally see
tiny grains of sand
how water seeps through
drains away and
as an ocean ebbs and flows
you are
driftwood
alone with
careless waves
waiting
the next storm
An economy ruined,our currency is burning
we are at war with the world and the son of God is returning
No where else in the world does disparity meet abundance so closely
It makes me want to spit these words downs the throats
of every fucking joke that ignores me
anyone that has never given a red cent to a stranger that seemed to be in danger
In order to get into the pearly gates
you need your own personal moral code
These needy people aren't always up on the side of your high road
Nothing
So this is how it feels to be alive
And I haven't even lived yet
I give the clock a hopeful glance
It returns a coma face glare
I check my pocket watch
But it has long stopped ticking
I await a knocking at the door
But the letterbox rusted shut months ago
I hold the phone in my trembling hand
Longing for its melodic announcement
I observe the busy people passing my window
But I'm ignored and left to fester
Oh! Soldier
It is beyond my stature,
To comment,
When all stalwarts,
Have given their scent
But still soldier,
I hopefully do venture,
I dare to comment
So do not lament!
I have seen worst volleys
In my life,
In the dungeons of the Far East,
The jungles were our temples
Gracing our strength,
Courage and peace,
Perhaps you may have heard of Vietnam,
Now tis Iraq or Syria in turn,
May be Pakistan
Or Lebanon
My friend, fair of face
A gentle smile, full of grace
Lips that blow a kiss of charm
Smeared with fragrant healing balm.
My love, coyly sighs,
Rosy cheeks and deep blue eyes
Beauteous and quick to please
Melting me with quiet ease.
My bride, raven hair
Draped around her shoulders bare
Brushed with hands of ivory
Softly tied with purity.
My mate, ample breast
Clothed in linen, cotton dressed
Skin as pale as satin moth
Underneath the flimsy cloth.
"KROKJUVET"
Kook=hook; Juv= gorge; et = the.
Margaret Ann Waddicor 4th may 2011
Patience born of time afield
Knowlege gained by long experience
Stealth learned from endless practice
garbed in dark to hide in shadows
Can you dream about the dead?
I ask the sunset, while she fleshes
at night and settles in shadow-colours.
Can you digest this bony reality,
like a dog, like a buddha, like a cross
on a Sunday morning?
I ask Schrödinger's Cat, while he purrs like
a drunken gutar, and pointed to a vision
in the harsh sky.
The savannah trembles in agony,
for the big Subjective awakes.
How to frame the honey-coloured clouds?
I ask Yggradsil, the tree with the many leaves;
he didn't reply, but sinks in a prayer,
Red, white and blue
waves good riddance
to evil
wrapped in white
and plunged below the North Arabian Sea;
The Most Wanted,
in a weighted body bag,
is buried among fish
and seaweed,
oceans away from the
ashes of the Twin Towers,
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