Stranger On A Bench

As I sat at my desk one afternoon my

mind wandering from self-imposed tasks

The sun beating down with a smile

I happened to glance outside my

window and was arrested by the sight I spied

Down below on the old wooden bench

By the canal, just outside my fence

Sat a strange man in an orange jacket –

A stranger on a bench

Unaware he was being watched

He sat there in meditation

An enviable calm claiming his face as

He drank in the sights around

Him with complete absorption

Being no stranger myself

I watched him with vague contempt

Wondering what he saw in these parts

That warranted such intent

The longer I watched however the

Less my contempt grew

While deep within a different

Feeling stirred anew

As I kept looking I became

Aware of a strange development

Sights and sounds until now as familiar

As one’s own raiment suddenly

Seemed no longer mundane

My wandering mind found in

That stranger an unexpected kin

And abandoning my workaday thoughts I joined

Him as he journeyed the land he was in

New sights came to the eyes, new sounds reached the ears

The rustling of the leaves, the pigeon on the roof

The far-off sound of a barking dog, the crying of a petulant child

Shimmering reflections in the water, the gentle swaying of lily stems

All these and more created a melody soothing and clear

And I drank in the music being played by this

Orchestra conducted by an unseen hand

Putting on a show peaceful yet grand

A quiet calm descending on me as

I enjoyed this welcome reprieve

I don’t know what it was, a

Sudden chill in the air or the

Thought of deeds unfinished

But all of a sudden the man got up

Jerking me back to my desk as he

Made ready to leave

As I watched him go however

I couldn’t help but wonder

If each of us stuck in our personal trench

Could do now and then,

with a stranger on a bench.

Traveller, Addict

Loneliness, the price I pay for Solitude
An absent home for the freedom to roam.
Strange bedfellows these two,
One blood red, the other sky blue.

I’m still not sure
which I prefer -
The joyful pain of your company
or the blissful silence of the interlude.

This I do know however –
When I’m around,
I am yours forever.
You’ll know I’m back,
Back for you
When you hear me fumbling at the door.

I have just one thing, then, to ask of you -
Please don’t think me untrue.

Woodpecker

 
Light green upon dark green,
Delicate patterns wrought
Flecked brown bark patterned like cloth
The forest embraces, inviting,
Tall, towering oaks look down at me, comforting –
A Stranger… lost in his thoughts.
 
Knock. Knock. Knock…
Wood-pecker!
I stop and listen, expectant…
The forest teases, silent,
Tall towering oaks look down at me, wondering –
A Wayfarer…looking for a novelty?  
 
A burst of colour high above,
I spin, ears chasing flapping wings,
A flash of orange in a green trove
The forest whispers, hushed
Tall towering oaks look down at me,  brooding –
A Treasure-seeker…looking for a jewel? 
 
Knock! His tell-tale song. 
Ears pricked, neck craned,
I search the green heights
The forest waits, tense,
Tall towering oaks look down at me, threatening –
A Hunter…looking for his prey?
 
In the corner of my eye, a flash of rust,
There! Perched on a gnarled chestnut.
Flame of orange crest, dark-green feathers
I stand, a statue,  admiring, 
The forest watches, understanding,
Tall towering oaks look down at me, smiling –
Just a Seeker…looking for beauty.

Absinthe

(Absinthe - French word, from the Greek for 'wormwood' - a bitter shrub, also used as a noun to indicate a state or source of grief)

 

Black and red are the lips of rock

Volcano emerging from the depths

Thrust out of charred earth

A monument to eternity

 

Green and blue are its frames

A destructive force with a conscience

Ancient slopes richly forested

Framed against a deep blue sky

A monument to infinity

 

Black and red are the vanishing insides

Setting sun on frozen magma

Empty crater swallowing all light

A monument to nothingness

 

Green and blue is the pool below

Deep down, almost out of sight

Now still now alive

Unknown waters holding your grief

A monument to now

Wonder

World-mirror hanging daintily, fragile dewdrop, on the bottom of my window-sill

Spotlight from above, sun ray finds its way through cotton fluff

Wind instrument sighing, singing and rustling, green leaf on brown stem

Ballet artist pirouettes, caught up in the breeze, piece of paper on the wind

And I simply pass by.

Where is the wonder, I wonder?

Embrace

A stream gentle yet hurried
With whirlpools, mini-falls, autumn leaves
Unsurprising, expected, yet pleasant to observe until a shadow,

A shadow hints, teases,
Forces you out of an observers complacence,
There is more beneath the pleasantly surprising
An unknown waiting to be discovered, felt, embraced, 


You resist,
Remaining on the bank,
After all you don’t know to swim
And there’s much joy in watching the water, the leaves, 


Yet the undertow beckons,
A whisper formed, meant for you
Reaches you on the crisp breeze, special, irresistible,
And you dive in


You who don’t know to swim
Abandoning thought, embracing the unknown
A splash breaks the surface,
Ripples emerging from the darkness beneath


The stream hurries on gently,
Whirlpools, leaves and all.

Haikus

Haikus are traditional Japanese poems arranged in three phrases consisting of 5,7 and 5 syllables each. Short yet powerful, they are in my opinion, one of the most expressive forms of poetry. The strength of a haiku lies in its ability to evoke with very few words a picture in the reader's mind. The more vivid the picture...and the more room there is for interpretation, the better the haiku! While Japanese haikus generally contain a reference to a particular season, modern day English ones often deviate from this rule.

This muse was inspired by Taruna's blog on the subject - so thank you to her! The ones below are arranged roughly in the order in which I like them. Read on and feel free to interpret!

1.
The entrances packed
Empty space in the middle - 
Peak hour city bus.

2.
Speeding down the road,
Throbbing anger in my veins - 
Deer in my headlights.

3.
Distant flash of red
hood, a silent scolding - you 
should have held on, dear.

4.
Thin frost on spring buds - 
Old man, young boy study each
other across years.