The Blessing in Death

I always try to attend funerals
be my love ones
be my enemies
be someone perhaps I don’t even know that well

Funeral is the place
I always recount the best of the diseased
instead of their wrong doings
or minor irritations

Divorce is like a funeral
I store all the good bits
in my memory bank
as long as the body is not
getting resuscitated
dust to dust
ashes to ashes

Failed First Love

We both know
love died long time ago
What we are feeling
is the remain of

You are doing
all you can
to make up for
the illusion of
hurting me

I accept
your apologetic act
of kindness
to keep you from guilt

I am doing
all I can
to lock away
the past
where my heart
broke into pieces
out of warmth
out of blood
out of means
to fight

we talk
we laugh
You are still
someone’s other half
I am standing on
wobbly knees
to withstand
what life
is throwing
at me
I wish you well
I am in love and happy

And yet
no one will ever
repair my past
where my heart
once snapped
in half

Life in Darkness

The NoblemanWarrior prompt

The forest is such a dark place
she has a witch charm
draws me deep into
her cradle of despair

Hope dresses in a patch of new life
reminds me who I am
a heritage of God
destined for greatness


the drought summer
triggers the waves
to fire unforgiving saline shots
to a cracked shore

the sun scratches my cheeks
like a vicious cat fed up
with anchovies being fed
around the clock

her glaring sharp stare
threatens the moonlight
to hide in plain sight

my feet on the burning sand
gives flashback of
watching a rabbit roasted
on the campfire

in agony, I curse the sun
showing no mercy to the land
she chuckles on my naïveté
and tells me to plead with
the God upstairs
to let loose the blessing rain
instead of drumming up
the raging thunder

Missing Person

She has been dreaming for years
to be the girl next door
living on a remote farm
where her closest neighbour
is 200k away

Farm life makes her
frightfully independent
She is the master of
shepherd dogs
a shepherd with a flock of geese
She tends to 2 silos filled with
1000 hectares harvest grains

Old pub on Friday nights
farmers are looking for a wife
They always look past her
thinking she is one of their own
sunburnt, sweaty, steward of the land
She finds herself
putting on mascara, blush, lip gloss
in vain

She packs her bag
drives her ute to the next town
hops on the first train
becomes the statistic of
another missing person


The Living Poetry prompt

He slips the blue sapphire
onto her finger
prays for her spirit
to turn towards him

She accepts his ring of proposal
prays for his envy and jealousy
banished from their life forward

Will the blue sapphire
be the magic wand
grant them fidelity
in marriage
be the smallest handcuff
imprison her heart