The children left home for the city neon lights
Faces filled with endless enthusiasm
Brushed off sandburs that caught on their jeans
Covered tree scratched wrists with tailored shirts
The bell birds by the river sang their farewell
They never looked back to see your outstretching arms
The silvery grey city edge is where the elders rise early
To wait for the youth to come home
Painting of Parramatta River, Sydney, Australia by Virginia Bucknell
An effortless collaboration with Ben, do check out his amazing poetry on Instagram Remedy Poems
My words are falling
over your collarbone
like loose strands
dipped in charcoal
bleeding through skin
The things you craved
but now regret
Home is a memory
distant and frostbitten
by turquoise hands
I have recently written this piece with Ben, whom I share similar way in writing poetry, from the concept beginning lines to the last word fine tune. Do check out his blog Benjamin Grossman
I savour your words on my tongue daily
Reading aloud your thoughts and feelings
As if sampling a handcrafted recipe
Words, by their prowess, bring life or death
From yours, I only taste an antidote
Each sentence a mouthful of succulent nourishment
Leafy greens of personification and aromatic spices of diction
Lines of sugar poured over smoldering pages
The flavor of an elite story
Always I crave your expression
Every fibre yearning for your art
Never stop writing
Your every scribble satiates my soul
She is my past, present and future.
She is the incomprehensible fate of my life and death.
She is my beloved book, read and reread.
She is my root, let love grow deep into the ground.
She is my play pet in virtual world, my queen in reality.
I will turn to dust,
disappearing into the sea of her eyes,
grain by grain,
never give up existing.