Poem 129: Some Old Song

At the pink of the day

The light lures my thoughts astray

And the old times still seem 

Fresh as falling dew

Somewhere far off a band will play

While silk-draped couples sway

And once again I'm with you

Twilight falls like a veil

As my reverie grows pale

And the jasmine sweetly

Puts the day to bed

All the dancers have wandered off

Your footsteps, too, grow soft

Night falls as I walk away.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six 

 

 

Poem 129: Some Old Song

Poem 128: Early-birds

Face to face they sit

Silence, coffee between them

Nothing left to say

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Photo: Penrose Diner, Philadelphia

Poem 128: Early-birds

Poem 127: Difficult, Pt. Two

rippling cavernous slides

strike dromedary urgency

into oblong eyelids

lashes like palm fronds 

slick with unctuous

chartreuse anticipation 

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem 127: Difficult, Pt. Two

Poem 126: So Happy

An astonishing cocktail

of sunlight and warmth

is lavished on 

our cool and misty world 

today. We walk around, smiling 

like people in-the-know,

and say 

Can you believe this heat? 

Days ago, 

when it rained, 

we came out of our houses 

and scowled at the sky. 

Can you believe how cold it is?

And we told each other how, 

when it warmed up 

again, we would be 

so happy.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem 126: So Happy

Poem 125: Bound

Swaddled in 

my threadbare blanket 

of weakness and pain,

I arrange myself in bed 

again, and watch

the friendly, old world 

unfold, from a distance.

(c) 2013 by Hannah Six

"ME is a serious, disabling and chronic organic (i.e. physical not mental) disorder. ME has been classified by the World Health Organisation (ICD 10 G 93.3) as a neurological illness affecting approximately 200,000 individuals within the UK. Of that number, approximately 25% of those affected will go on to develop severe ME which is an extremely debilitating illness, sometimes lasting for years, in some cases, even decades, often rendering the sufferer completely housebound, wheelchair & bedbound and dependent upon carers for their everyday needs.  The Chief Medical Officer’s Report on the subject of CFS/ME (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) issued in January 2002 recognises that “CFS/ME should be classed as a chronic condition with long term effects on health, alongside other illnesses such as multiple sclerosis and motor neurone disease."

Source: http://www.investinme.org/faq-1.htm

Poem 125: Bound

Poem 124: Welcome Guests

The house 

            was dim,

the day, bright.

When the door 

               opened,

you quickly stepped 

into the light 

and closed it 

with a click,

locking the long night 

               inside.

Another door 

               opened

as you stood 

               blinking 

on the dazzling sidewalk,

waiting to regain 

your sight.

Unafraid, you 

entered and left it 

               open wide 

for the autumn air,

the honeyed sunlight,

those sweet old songs,

and all the other 

welcome guests 

you knew

would come along.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Photo: Wikipedia Commons

Poem 124: Welcome Guests

Poem 123: Friday

Scent of soap on steam

Water running as you shave

Must be Friday night

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem 123: Friday

Poem 122: Enemy Lines

Behind the door, in the dark, 

you lurk, more frightening 

than those childhood monsters 

my mother conquered

with a click of the light switch. 

For decades, you possessed me, 

altered me, held me prisoner, 

brought me to my knees, impoverished 

in so many ways. 

There were days when the sun broke through the clouds 

and my doubts cleared 

under the cerulean sky, 

when my escape seemed certain 

and a song of rejoicing 

already softened my lips. 

But, no. You tracked me 

and lay in wait. 

Ambush was only 

a matter of time. 

Why, then, did you let me go 

when I last ran? 

Why was the line you drew 

in the sand 

so shallow and vague? 

At play in the waves, 

I only realized I'd crossed it 

when I looked back 

at the beach 

and saw I was alone. 

How brave I felt! 

How bold and proud! 

Children bounded and splashed 

around me, grinning back 

at my self-satisfied smile. 

If only-- If only!  If only I'd stayed 

closer to shore--

If only the current 

that bore me further out 

had been clear and blue, 

not cold and opaque 

as unfeeling jade. 

Maybe then I might have 

noticed the crescent shadow 

that flickered 

in the depths, 

beneath me. 

Maybe then, I'd still be 

innocent of your insidious 

grasp, ensnaring my ankle 

so delicately, 

a mere tickle. 

Maybe then, I'd have remembered 

to leave the light on 

as I slipped below 

the surface of sleep

into unfathomable dreams.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem 122: Enemy Lines