I don’t know
why I always love the impossible
Possibly
I am incapable of loving the possible
Maybe
I interpret love
to be an impossible notion
An imperfect soul
chases the impossible perfection
Category: Poetry and Prose
Grandpa’s Roommate
The old man shared the same room with grandpa
in a nursing home close by.
Every time I visited grandpa,
he sat on his bed,
facing the window.
I never knew him,
never once wanted to disturb.
I knew his back view very well,
bald head,
olive skin,
a white tailored t-shirt,
tattooed arms.
That day I didn’t see him.
The bed was empty.
Grandpa said he passed in peace.
“A blind man looking out the window
who wanted me to know
this is not a depressing place.”
I gave grandpa a big hug
pretending I didn’t see his tears.
The Pond
The pond on the family vineyard
is like a Catholic priest
witnesses celebratory family events
hears confession after confession
forever gives out forgiveness
peace loving
empathetic
gentle
still
Video by Cassa Bassa at Drayton Vineyard, Hunter Valley, NSW, Australia
Click here for more about the Drayton’s Family Wines
Peculiar Me
The garden flat I once lived
was so quiet.
There was this old copper tap dripping
made up the only noise.
I thought of putting some cheese out
to bait some mice to create more sound.
Then I got worried
that I would make them dependent.
And that would be unkind.
Sometimes I held my breath
to listen to the tap.
Just to be sure that
I was not alone.
My Reasoning
You didn’t live in my yesterdays.
You love me today.
I don’t see you in my tomorrows.
Isn’t love enough?
It isn’t enough when it doesn’t last.
How do you know it won’t last.
I saw your eyes.
They wandered.
Epiphany
The city in Spring was filled with misty rain.
You kept reminding her to take an umbrella.
But she always left without one.
You became her outdoor companion to keep her dry.
Summer storms came and went without warning.
There was no way you could prepare for that.
You gifted her a poncho tied with a yellow ribbon,
hoping it would keep her from the downpour.
One day you saw her running around a giant tree
with symphony of lightening and thunder.
Finally the epiphany hit you.
You were in love with a girl
whom you knew little about.
Artist’s Outreach
You may see Virginia’s paintings via: Art Lovers Australia Weebly Instagram
Anger
The Living Poetry prompt – Angry
hey
you little spark
I am sorry that
I keep denying you, rejecting you
blaming you for ruining everything
you suffer for my immature behaviour
will you forgive me
Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com
I Run to You
I have never met you,
and yet you know me.
I can’t help but move closer.
I have spent all my life
to build this facade
for the world to see.
How come you see my anima?
My inner child runs to you.
Do I know you?
Why do you feel like home to me?
I love you!
Oil painting by Virginia Bucknell, you may see more of Virginia’s paintings via:
Unfailing Heart
her heart endured a lot
it was once
provoked to anger by betrayal
broken as a result of blunt rejection
too tired too weak to respond
bled out to a slow death
and yet
her heart is still
raw
open
fighting
imbued with passion
Flicker of Thoughts 