like the sun shone

for you

Tag: Silence

Watching the snowflakes

Silent explosions of creation appear beyond the window
as I listen to, or am bombarded by, the eternal ringing in my ears

Silence is an impossible dream

Watching the leaves in spring stretch and yawn
Watching the rose petals romance the world
Watching the beautiful deaths colour the postcards
Watching the snowflakes’ individualities show us how

Silent explosions of creation appear beyond the window
and here I sit crunching ginger biscuits

Silence is an impossible dream

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Sunshine

Candle flame
flickers a dance to kiss
the wax
and so bring sunshine within its cold
and there with the heat
the wax simply acquiesces and melts
forming patterns of flickered kisses
creating reflections, shadows and the breathings of time
and there with the heat
they coalesce into existence
to create silent flames of desire/passion/tenderness … life
deep within the empty
where only darkness rules
creating solitudes of silence where
the wax
is simply wax
waiting for sunshine
to dance within its soul

Sigh

Timid strokes of thought
flutter within the silence of night
as sleep is interrupted by the beating of blood
and the ever-present hiss echoing within

What feather is this
what sigh?

Listen as the candle creaks into finality
hear its tears evaporate into darkness
and feel the room, empty
silent
but for the beating of blood
and the ever-present hiss echoing within

What feather is this
what sigh

what sigh …

Time’s lonely ghost

~

Silent is the shadow
which creepeth long and bold
it never ages, it never dies
it is, forever old

The sun may burn
the wind may howl
the rain may drench its skin
but the shadow remains always
a yawning hungry cowl

Silent is the shadow
which creepeth like a thief
it never ages, it never dies
it is, the one beneath

The snow may settle
the mist may drown
the night may cover its skin
but the shadow remains always
wearing its darkling crown

Silent is the shadow
which creepeth like a snake
it never ages, it never dies
it is, awaiting fate

The hail may pound
the storm may moan
the grass may tickle its skin
but the shadow remains always
a sunset on the roam

Silent is the shadow
which creepeth cold and lost
it never ages, it never dies
it is, time’s lonely ghost

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