Lost. Found.

I lie
on a bed of flowers.

Humming,
as a thorn you finger-

piercing
while I linger.

Smiling,
as you hum.

Smiling,
I lay dumb.

Cities by Night

Light cuts across the sky and cranes

rear their heads-stark skeletons

with no flesh to bear.


Wheels slip over wet mud

mixed with concrete, as

flowers droop in the smoke.


Romance is dead

you say- as everywhere,


a night rain leaves puddles

that catch the odd angles

of this city's despair,


and I begin to  wonder

if Romance has not found

its most perfect backdrop-


where love remains at the bone

and the promise of flesh

lives only as long as the night does.

God

Mother spoke
of you yesterday,

she tells me
you have things to say.

But every time the sky
leans into my window

I see you seeing me
see you,

yet there you sit
not saying a word.

I push the sky back
but leave my window
open.

Just in case.

News!

This marks my second non poem post on this blog. I wish I was clever enough to write this as a poem but umm I'm not (I can hear jaws drop now.) Okay Okay I'll get on with it then. A very tiny poem of mine "Loss" is being featured today in the zine " a small handful of stones". I am as you can guess very excited-hence the un called for attempt at humour. 

Anyway, "a handful of stones" is just a great zine. (Would you believe I write? From reading this?) They feature tiny poems-small stones. These could be haikus (or not) considering I didn't really fashion my poem as one but the idea is that something immense is captured in just a few words(which is the point of a haiku, really I am just out doing myself here). Each poem that features there is a moment.  For more accurate information about the zine you can go here. 

A poem in search of

Ink wanders
over the page

trying to find 

a misplaced word-

my misplaced heart.

Open your window,

it lingers there.

Triangle

A sparrow and a bee,

on the same branch,

in love with the same

flower.