The Man with One Chair

The man with one chair

Likes to sit alone

One will catch a glimpse of him

When the worn out country sun

To the horizon, has gone


The man with one chair

A beer for company

But in his thoughts

Miss Alabama, is wandering

Can you fathom this mystery?


That man with one chair

Won’t be alone for too long

Till sweet lil’ Miss Alabama

Goes sashaying his way

Wowing just enough, to capture his gaze


A capture of two now in her trove

The man with one chair

May soon give out his seat

Props out to Miss Alabama

For stealing his gaze, his heart and now, his chair

Anticipating

There, there, my love

See how the gap bridges in

Distance is fading, time is nigh

The genesis of our union,

One full of awe and purpose

It’s happening, I see you soon


The giddiness of potential

Oh, what an unfolding, we behold now

The realization of loving and being in love

Thus far we have come

Thus far the Lord has brought us

The Lord has been good and faithful


Anticipation is an understatement

See my body, ever so eager

Arms mimicking an embrace

My shoulders, they prepare,

A resting place for your head

And my heart, ever jumpy like an anxious puppy


We have known for a while

That we’re worth each other’s time

We’ve cultivated a garden

That bears fruits of love

To say I love you is not enough

But I’m forever thankful that we found each other

“I know I can trust you, but…”

Trust, like a tree in autumn

Questioned by the unknown

I know I can trust you, but…


Said branches to leaves

Said leaves to branches

Trust may break

Trust may be shaken

Trust may be lost, completely


Like a leaf in autumn,

One may feel betrayed

When suddenly let go

By whom they thought as their backbone

High up on cloud nine

Left to a plunging, cold fall


Like a branch in autumn

One may be shockingly abandoned

By leaves that leave

One may be made a fool of

By leaves that threaten to leave

That may be you, shaken, broken inside


Trust, like a tree in autumn

Broken by the unpredictable

I know I can trust you, but…

Pockets

A day at a time

A tear that will dry

There is a reason,

There is a season

But still there is despair

A hug to say all is fine

A word of encouragement

To calm a racing mind

But there will still be that moment

Hands in pockets, and emptiness felt

Such is a revisiting sorrow

That comes in waves

Such is a daunting anxiety

That comes uninvited

Such is the guilt felt

For shifting the mood

So I ask that you bear with me

You jolly soul, best friend, confidant

One day it may be well

One day the pockets may be filled

With something other than emptiness

Something worth remembering,

Something that will carve a smile

Undoing

To know that, she’s had you

Over and over

I want to understand

When you say you’re committed

Just how many times must I have you

To teach your body something new?

I say that I’m fine, but these words…

Need undoing , revealing that I’m not

Miss Shelly

Miss Shelly

I call her

For she’s spared these eyes

A humbling moment


I hope that I too

Will someday be a Miss Shelly

She’s clothed in dungarees, blonde hair in a messy bun

She cradles her wee one, who’s also matching her khaki jacket


Miss Shelly

Ever so protective

Very much the doting mother

She loves on her little one


And me? I watch

Till his eyes meet mine

Baby chuckles in delight

What a wonderful sight to behold


Ah Miss Shelly!

She’d do anything for him

She’d put herself last

Miss Shelly, go on and be blessed


And I can’t help but think

Of all the purest connections

My eyes have made

With the very young and innocent


I wish they’d remember

I wish that, this could someday make them smile

I wish they’d know, how for a few minutes

They had made a stranger’s day

He held her close…

He held her close and she lay her head on his chest. The silence competing with the tension, till the latter could no longer bear it. Counting three breaths, she mouthed, “Are you sure we’re not lost in ourselves?”

He held her close and she cuddled up to him, like a koala baby and its mother. In that moment, nothing could shift attention from a bond, formed over distance, over texts, over a forged, genuine love. A bond, now released to temperaments and the intricacies of the human connection

He held her close and they experienced a feeling so familiar, previously emanating in waves, now static. This was home, their home. This love had traveled and finally arrived at its final destination. Sunflowers had always been her favourite. Today in full fictitious bloom, they gave their approval. Joy has cometh

Someday

Someday, worried one

You’ll find the light

Someday, wretched one

You’ll be on the other side


Through the swampy marsh

Over the land mines

Past the naysayers

Beyond any obstacle


Someday, somehow

You’ll rejoice, where the light resides

While Minding My Business

A fortnight later

And he’s gifted me

A glimmer of hope

This, while simply minding my business


He could be the one

But he often disappears

Then I’m left to ponder

My only warning, being a moment’s notice


Then he reappears

As if to make amends

My heart jumping with joy

As if to tell me, “Didn’t I say so?”


Who does he think he is?

Leaving me in disarray

Telling me about his day

Then gone in a whiff


I better stay calm

Guard this heart of mine

Lest she warms up to him

For the grandest of falls


A fortnight to come

I may be left morose

And so maybe it’s time

To dish out my trusty detachment

Broken Wells

I know a thing or two

About broken wells

Consequence

Of a broken heart

Quenching their thirst


I know a thing or two

About the broken-hearted

Drawing and drawing,

The well, almost bare.

And when broken, none seems to care


I know a thing or two

About these two, broken well, broken heart

But I wish I had earlier known

That one would leave

Right after the mend and quench

The End

When you know, you know

Unmistakable synergy

The senses relaying,

The tragic news


But it’s the switch

The transition, the click

The crossover

Immediate and sudden


Burden is delivered

Guilt casts over

The silent ache, reverberating

This, the soundtrack to the loss of child

poetry

some fall in love

others love the idea of love


some thirst for water

others sip champagne in delight


poetry

i’ve fallen for you


you’re a scarf to smoothen out of place strands

you’re velvet to skin


cognac to the lost weeper

tea drank by the grassy bank


a sail to brave through strong winds and tides

pot of gold under the rainbow


a listener, comforter

nurse to the banes of my life

I Should Go

My eyes must unsee
False hope and regret.
Before we lose our sanity
I should go…

My hands must unlock your grip
Know a freedom of their own.
Before we pull back into embrace
I should go…

My body must unlearn
A home it once knew.
Before we cross the line
I should go…