Poems 08 - 09

The Voicemail I heard an old voicemail today, that caught me unawares, Three months ago my mother called, “Nothing urgent, please ring me back.” I did, three months ago. I cannot now.

Might, could, probably should, Uncertainty eats me alive, My stomach feels empty and bloated, Like the pebble dashed waves Pulling back over the beach, Scouring and sucking the energy away,

My first Philosophical poem. Let's all hope it's not to deep!

Playing shadows on the wall, Fire flickers from eye to eye, From generation to generation, From Africa where we were born, To the distant moon where we have stood, And looked back at earthrise,

I have a pen but no paper, So I write on my skin, The private whisper urging me, “Get it down now, this time this place”. In this single room, this bed, So careless to have no paper,

The sorrow of parting lies Reflected in the pool of autumn leaves. Nature in full retreat beneath The sky so dark the colours run, Like oil on water, Dripping from Zadok’s hand,

Lured by the need to lose the daily grind, Amidst the greens and browns that are easy on the eye And gentle on the soul. I seek out Wilder places, where solitude can roam.

Kernel Panic... Deactivate reception sensors. Insulate the core. Switch off external Stimuli. Protect lockdown centres. Initiate detection scan. Wipe infected sectors. Reapportion memory.