The moon walks through the white lotus-like clouds.
The evening wind blew bursts of happy singing.
We sat by the high heaps of grain,
Listening to mum talk about the past.
We sat by the high heaps of grain,
Listening to mum talk about the past.
At that time, my mother had no land.
All life is in two hands.
Sweat flows in the fiery fields of the landlord,
Mother ate wild vegetables and bran.
Howling like a winter blizzard,
My mother was wearing tattered single clothes,
She went to sew a fox fur robe for the landlord,
Cold and hungry and falling on the snow…
After so many hard years,
Mum was looking forward to today’s good life.
The moon walks through the white lotus-like clouds,
The evening wind blew bursts of happy singing.
We sat by the high heaps of grain,
Listening to mum talk about the past.
We sat by the high heaps of grain,
Listening to mum talk about the past.
The Last Control
Grief hit me
like a gust of wind
on a clear day
I couldn’t see it coming
stumbled to survive
another blow
I knew it was you
full of energy
charged with rage
Was that to laugh
at my boring
and simple life
or to stir me to anger
You don’t get to
dictate my emotions
anymore
We were done
when you sinked yourself
in the lake
just to have the last say
General Advice Sucks
I don’t know why
they tell me to aim high
and dream dreams
I am already anxious as it is
scared of heights
trapped in night terrors
Clipped Wings
When I heard you singing to me
I thought I could fly to be with you
I have done it so many times in my youth
I have done so again in all my dreams
Reality came to me when the border closed
and then I became the outcast
I realised I would never be with you
with a pair of clipped wings
Moss on a Garden Wall
Bartholomew created this piece from a photo I took when I visited Mount Wilson in Autumn some years ago. This poem tells a rich hisoty of a simple wall. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Moss on a Garden Wall
Moss drips down
the stone wall
at tree’s pace
in slow steady shade
Storms and floods
pass unnoticed
seasons flow
like days
Life tears down walls
not human lives
whose fragile skulls
are dashed upon the rocks
But simple relentless
life eroding the minerals
so our descendants
might burrow in the rubble
War
Bricks and mortar struck into rubble
We are the doves used for sin offering
Our necks are wrung
Our blood are drained
Our bodies are burnt
If only Cain loved Able
Poisonous Angel
She knows
She is beautiful
She knows
She is destructive
She knows
Her angelic face keeps weak men captive
She knows
They are hers
And they keep feeding to her sins
Worthless
Living Poetry word prompt – Essential, Add, Give
Before my essential needs are met
Even I give you all that I am
My attempts only add to your devastation
An Old Woman’s Portrait
She always wears a milky rose
In her ash hair
A bit out of place
She always swims
In her linen dress
A bit too pale
For her complexion
She always paints her nails
Red
A bit too violent
When she combs her hair
With her ghostly white fingers
The thorns bleeds beauty
Onto her waxy canvas
Leaves a trail of
Dried out tears
#songshare – Peggy Gordon (to Ash)
Peggy Gordon – Sinéad O’Connor
O Peggy Gordon, you are my darling
Come sit you down upon my knee
And tell to me the very reason
Why I am slighted so by thee
I’m so in love that I can’t deny it
My heart lies smothered in my breast
But it’s not for you to let the world know it
A troubled mind can know no rest
I put my head to a glass of brandy
It was my fancy I do declare
For when I’m drinking I’m always thinking
And wishing Peggy Gordon was here, mm
I wished I was in some lonesome valley
Where womankind cannot be found
Where the little birds sang on the branches
And every moment a different sound
O Peggy Gordon, you are my darling
Come sit you down upon my knee
And tell to me the very reason
Why I am slighted so by thee
Flicker of Thoughts 