Saturday, October 18, 2014

Disappointed

A little banter between my mind and heart

Dear Heart

This is not the first time that I have had cause to write.

I am disappointed in you.

I know that we sometimes don’t see eye to eye. It is inevitable given the difference in our perspectives. But usually I respect and, you will be surprised to read, even admire you. There is clearly something about hearts and flowers that resonates with women. I am honest enough to admit that I would not be nearly as compelling without your influence.

But recently you have gone beyond romantic. You have shown signs of becoming sentimental. That is unforgivable. It is a deeply unattractive trait and one which I have no desire to be associated. I have read somewhere that as women age they cry less, whereas men are compelled to shed tears more often. Believe me, tears are neither masculine nor attractive.

Much worse than that, in your recent dealings with women you have become embarrassing. Despite my efforts you have become weak, you have compromised, you have allowed your will – our will – to be bent or twisted. You are in danger of losing the dignity, credibility and gravitas that our experience and knowledge command.

I repeat. I am disappointed. I expect change.

Who we are depends upon it.

Yours

Mind

Tapestry


I will take a thousand threads of you
Strings of contact and conversation
Fibres of film and photograph
Strands of time and place
Skeins of smiles, sadness and skin
Ribbons of remembering

I will take a thousand threads of you
And weave a rich and vibrant
Bold and beautiful
Tapestry of love

Saturday, October 4, 2014

Breathing Room

I crave a moment’s respite
From the cloying, suffocating grind
Of expectation, circumstance and fear.
There are breaths I’ve never taken,
Senses honed to death,
Dulled and dumbed by misuse.

Focus slips, the lamentable puzzle
Of how to pause, how to breathe,
Is cracked and fogged like old glass.
Unsolvable, it seems,
But for those brief and fleeting moments
When the oxygen seeps in.

Sometimes they’re hard-won
A chorus of snatched inhales
As glittering spots skate my eyes,
Exploding suns in untread galaxies,
And I know the vacuum will be
Quick to swaddle my lungs anew.

And sometimes they burst, unbidden
Through the smoke to resuscitate,
Refresh, with life’s saving kiss, and
I forget those days I was left alone,
To choke on the buttery air
Beneath a curdled sky.