Category Archives: Poetry

Hill of Tara

On the green hill of Tara Mist and light intertwined into a web of gossamer enjoining every blade of grass into this shimmering sheet of diamonds. Green beyond green, intoxicatingly airy sanctuary of sovereigns and home of honeyed bees dripping … Continue reading →

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Dancing Shiva

Sometimes the primordial Shiva dances in a circle of fire, yet utterly serene Like the brass ringed statue on the cabinet brought back from India decades ago Nataraja* poised motionless and frozen half naked like some sort of sacramental offering … Continue reading →

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Turning points

Moments of motion Changes of direction. Some turning points are obvious, Immediate. But many go unobserved, Disregarded minor deviations, small shifts That accumulate and compound over the years All tending in the same direction. A mounting surge of myriad small … Continue reading →

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Three Triolet

Blind Image Did God make us in his own image Or did Man make god into a humankind This myth has grown in every village Did God make us in his own image Was it a way to find a … Continue reading →

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Learning the Craft

Now who will free me from the chains of rhyme, so I may pick and play the notes I choose; throw off the shackles of the metric line and pen with liberty the words I use? Why be a slave … Continue reading →

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Valerie

Summer-strolling in the park, my pal Keith and I; he, outwardly confident, brash; I, awkward and shy. Two fifteen-year olds, our adolescent hormones fueling us with teenage fantasies and indiscriminate lust. Mooching aimlessly, we ambled in hot sunlight along pathways, … Continue reading →

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The days are long and lend themselves to pleasure,

The days are long and lend themselves to pleasure, The nights are times to rest and take my ease. The years go by and I enjoy my leisure, A solitary life spent as I please. My shelves are full of … Continue reading →

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Climate Changer

While sitting alone facing into the sun She protests to people who don’t listen A planet on fire is a smoking gun While being adrift without a mission Saying her views instead of school learning With rouge seas rising, icebergs … Continue reading →

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The funeral leaves me numb

The funeral leaves me numb (but flying cakes make me laugh) I recall the afternoon we toyed with impossibilities, joked and fantasized about a coconut slice without stabiliser, flying off the plate across the fourth floor café, hitting one of … Continue reading →

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Masks

Written and spoken by Myrna Moore They have always been there from Africa gleaming wood carved in praise And supplication. To Egypt immortalised in gold for the journey into eternity. Through China, Tibet, Indonesia and pre – Columbus Americas. They … Continue reading →

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