Fortuitous?Fortuitous, they often saidThat she had found his armFor he had been alone for yearsThen she of graceless charm,Swept through his life and changed it allAnd they all watched him stop, and fallFor one who stood no greater threatThan make a man live all regrets.What luck, that she would make him smileWhile taking more than he could seeAs she would conjure and beguileSo he could not see properlyAnd over time that curse took holdLeft him bitter, angry – coldCause when the heart is sucked awayThe colours fade to dirty greys.
DFC 2016: 5. She Bears The Marks of Trauma's TouchTwitches, jerks would meet her slumber,Her face betraying battles foughtIn mem’ries that oft encumberThe restful sleep that she has sought.No time nor love could take awayThe fears that plague her everyday,No freedom from the demon’s clutch:She bears the marks of trauma’s touch.While strategies that she’s employedHave kept the darkness at the gates,No soothing, calming can placateThe anguish of a mind destroyed.One day, she’ll walk without a crutch,She bears the marks of trauma’s touch.
Aurora BorealisI always wanted to watch the Lights. Greens and golds, blues and purples storming, shimmering – dancing across the night like nymphs chasing butterflies. A decadent canvas of light and wonder peering down at me as I gaze into infinity, the eternal beauty of a universe billions of years old and greater than my poor mind could ever contemplate. As they sashay their way across the midnight sky, colours bouncing off the snow like tiny mirrors throwing rainbows across the room; all I can think about is how simple everything is. If you stand still for a moment, you can observe as the entire world moves around you: a chorus of raucous chaos and cacophony that breathes life into every dark space. You can see that as life is made more and more intricate, it is not in fact complex. We just make it that way. We hide ourselves in our fortresses of solitude, behind masks and medications and vices, and we pretend to be whatever we think we are meant to be. And the people who decide what others
Fragments of a MemoryWhilst infinite, his love felt wrong,Like singing out of tune to songs,For in his heart, he knew she’d takeEvery piece of him and breakHim down to bite sized pieces – eat,Gorge herself and once completeThere’d be no more of him to see:Just fragments of a memory.
Rose and the CompassRose held the compass in her hand,She did not know this foreign land,She’d walked so far, she could not stand,Where was that man? Where was that man?And in the distance – silhouettes,She panicked, feeling quick regretBut she was weary, soiled and wet,The figures met, the figures met.Her body trembled as the skyChanged drastically before her eyes,No warning ‘fore the blackest night,“Can I still fight?” “Can I still fight?”A pap’ry cloth was placed in handWith subtle grains of soil and sand,“What is this?” Rose did so demand,“It is the plan”, “It is the plan”“Please carry these towards the seas”“And when you hear the wind’s howl cease”“Just place it in the cockle’s key”“Then leave it be”, “Then leave it be”She stumbled, staggered to the beachAnd soon she came to seashell’s breech,The cloth fragmented once i
DFC 2016: 3. Brutal BirthSteamy breeze blows through treesSunlight scalds the waking earthStorm-clouds glowing green like mossWaves crash violently in firthSands whipped, spinning - blinding eyesCrackling greeting souls with mirthThunderous calls rain, hail – assail!All witness monsoon’s brutal birth