THE WINDOW CRIED

I so need to paint

and lose my soul in painting,

the canvas blank

paint leaving a trail.

An awareness of the picture

in my mind that

has no existence outside,

not memories but yet something earlier.

Doorway to forever opens

revealing fleeting happiness

painted forever.  

No-one saw me leave I stepped sideways,

leaving behind a moment in my life,

the distant future a certainty.

Real and unreal slid together as one

there but apart somewhere in the distance.

The reflection in the window I couldn't see past it

just out of reach, something unknown.

The window cried for me.

A woman with a tired frail face

stared back at me.

I wonder why she looks so tired

detached on the outside looking in.

Infiniteness of infinity and beyond.

I remember so clearly a walk long ago

with the fresh smell of pine.

Around me

a knot in the pine frame

weeps.

THE OCEAN

She heard it in the echoes

of the rosary beads of memories,

be aware of words

beware of them.

Behind her eyelids she watched

illusion and reality,

the dance of life.

Paint peeling

the lighthouse sang an old song,

part of everything part of nothing,

unsettling the ocean.

A slender  thing

what might have been,

hidden

for a lifetime.

Lullaby of heartfelt longing

On the golden stairs hands received

seagulls of space

flying between stars

wing-tip to wing-tip.

The past,

she held her secrets

letting them go one by one

into a garden of possibilities,

planted by you.

Snippets of memories

always hovering so near.

As the sun set,

the wind blew softly

whispering her real name,

and the lullaby began her search

on the blank white page of innocence.

Deep within,

the path wandered,

and the mouth asked a silent question.

No one answered,

so the wind blew gently

and carried the lullaby home.

No words for me

I wonder
what time will bring
this spring day
catkins  growing on the willow
love lonely so far away. 
Today I stepped outside of me
cream silk rustling
as I dance
here on the island
just you and me.
From over the sea
mists roll in.
 
There are no words for me.

The Child

the child loved her stilts
she walked on them all summer
raindrops shimmering in the sun
iridescent downpour
the moonlight casting many shadows
the child remembered
the twinkle in her granddad’s eyes
she stepped through the door
stars twinkled 
she looked on the earth forever
the snail on the garden path
a silver trail
hanging down their heads shyly
snowdrops

A thought whispers

shadows falling
the evening enfolds
a thought whispers
gnarled hawthorn tree
within twisted branches
the moon restrained
face pale and poignant
moon slipped into darkness
stars wept silently
inside the mind
the otherworld
a freedom
in evening's silence
the whispering voice carried far and wide
enticement to sleep

THE RED PENKNIFE by gennepher

hope

freedom

unconditional love

knowledge

understanding

granddad’s love

I lost it

his red penknife I mean

not his love

'Jade - an uncatlike cat'

somewhere in heaven • green eyes • staring down • tail wrapped • around the moon 
#tanka for Jade _/|\_ by @CoyoteSings 

Jade was always different, even from the start. She would just sit among chaos and watch with an inscrutable expression.

She never fathomed out how to climb. other cats shimmied up trees, but Jade laboriously put one paw above another on the tree trunk and hauled herself up paw by paw. Then she could not figure out how to get down again.

 

Eventually I found it easier for me to put ladders up where she wanted to go. Against her tree, my potting shed and garage. She could now climb with ease and more importantly get down by herself. Jade loved ladders.

The only problem was in the house when decorating took place and the paint tray was on the top shelf of the ladder…

An affectionate cat, she cleaned and nursed the other cats even though she herself had never had kittens. But, strangely none of the other cats cleaned or nursed Jade.

She would hang on my jeans leg as I walked. My legs still bear scratches from a few days ago. I would take her off to hold and stroke her, but she’d get down and hang, swinging on my jeans leg again as I walked…

On my wooden swing, Jade would sit upright for hours on end without moving a muscle. I tried to photograph her many times, but as soon as I produced a camera she moved and stuck her face into the lens. I have so few photographs of her.

 

Jade appears to have no idea her whiskers were to give information on the size of space her head was to about to enter. More than once I found Jade lying lifeless with her head stuck in a tin can (not mine as I always squashed the ends together) or other object.

 

Once when I was unable to pull her out or apply the tin can opener as I was shaking too much, I stuck the can with Jade in it onto the wall electric can opener. Can, and cat whirling unceremoniously around. Then she fell out and eventually started breathing again.

Jade had no sense of danger in many situations and used up far more than her fair share of nine lives. She was a completely innocent cat and used no guile or tricks to get her own way.

 

Jade is now wrapped in a pretty red sari. She is underneath the stone angel reading to a cat, which sits on the bench where she often sat in the sun. The winter sun is out now, as I am writing this,  and has just reached the stone angel, bathing it in golden light.