Hidden words

She carefully carved the words,
immediately realising what she had done,
She tried to scrub them out.
But it was too late,
He had already seen it.

He started towards her,
She looked down to avoid his eye contact,
Desperately trying to cover it up
as he was to pass by.

...thinking how foolish she had been...
...trying to imagine what he could possibly think...

A tear fell,
and yet her eyes were dry.

She felt his damp cheek press against hers
as he took her in his arms
and held her so tightly,
showing the love he never before knew how to express.

Catch her specks of dust...

She sits with a pen,
With some paper.
Her mind filled with ideas, thoughts.
So inspired,
So full of potential.

Fantastic words start to formulate,
Miraculous images...

And yet as soon as her pen touches the paper,
Her imagination shatters,
It turns to dust
and blows away in the wind...

African Treasure

A beautiful little girl,
She and her friends full of wonder.
They follow us through the streets,
they follow the muzugos (white people),
that they so rarely see.

We go to visit a school of older children,
we take the young girls with us.
The four of them play amongst themselves,
as we talk to the older children.

Sometimes they are distracted by our play,
by our words,
but mostly they are content,
playing in the grass and dust around them.

We finish, and leave the school,
The four children come with us.
Outside the gates we are ready to head back.
Before we go I give each child a crayon.

The beautiful little girl takes it from me.
She opens her hand
and starts to draw on the treasure she holds.
I look closer.

Her treasure is a razor blade.
Her treasure is a danger,
Her treasure could infect her,
Her treasure could be a killer.

A girl of no more then four years,
Her toy of choice?
A tool that spreads a deadly virus,
In a country where AIDS is a reality.

Magic Spells

Only in films, and then, computer generated,
to set the eerie graveyard scene.
But this, tonight, is real.
Dirty fluff sweeping past the moon at such speed.
Some so murky it briefly blocks the light of the moon,
Some so thin the moon illuminates a magically, misty, glowing grey

-The sort you would see seeping from a witches cauldron.

Blossom

One little cherry blossom,

all alone,

...shivering...

petals shaking in the breeze

The first sign that spring is coming...

The sun shines a little brighter...

...but my heart sinks a little deeper

Oh, to be noticed...

The quiet girl,
barely utters a word.
Always armed with a book,
lost in her own world.
So thin,
So frail.

She thinks the world doesn't see her,
so she is fading away.
She no longer looks at the world,
eyes down to the words on the page.

She doesn't see the boy who watches her.
Waiting for one look,
one glance,
from his only love...

...his heart is breaking.

The beautiful music in his mind

There is an old man sitting on the opposite side.
The whole journey he has been scribbling away frantically,
Through pages,
Turning pages,
Flipping back.

I finally look over to see.
He has a mixture of manuscript and lined paper,
Words and music.
Swapping between pieces of paper
as he has new ideas for music,
then lyrics,
then back to music.
Tapping his foot
- hearing his creation form inside his head
nodding,
tapping along,
stopping.
- that's wrong
then a scribble
followed by more frantic writing.

Trying to capture all of these ideas before they fade away.
I wish I could have heard the beauty of his creation.

These evenings are almost perfect,
Cold and crisp, yet no bitterness is the air,
Just cold enough to wake the senses,
And bring your skin to life.

The air holds a smell,
A smell which always returns at this time of year.
The street is awash with beautiful golden colours.
Autumn trees so rich.

Within the darkening sky,
Lamplights producing wonderful yellow glows.

A tree stretches its branches out,
Towards the streetlight,
Surrounding it.
The lamp highlighting the brilliance in colour of the leaves
Creating natures beautiful lampshade.

In a cold damp station,
People standing around.
Canceled train.

I see four of them, watching,
With their big beady eyes,
Waiting...
Quick glances between them,
Challenging each other.

Another person comes around the corner.
Walking closer.
Off goes
.one.
..two..
...three...
But the fourth does not fly away.
He wins his game of chicken.

The three other crows fly back,
Ready to play again.

Dark Forces

Today is the first day this year that I woke up to darkness.
The darkness that fools your brain into thinking it is still night.
That darkness that acts as a weight on your eyelids,

-pushing them down.

A dark blanket has swept across the room,
Tricking my senses to fall back to sleep.

I think the blanket stayed with me all day.

Sesaon of Lights

In the darkness,
In the cold, crisp air,
They sparkle,
They glimmer,
They shine,

Filling my eyes,

With a promise of what is to come.

w....o....r....d....s

Why have words become so hard to find?
The poetry...gone...
They no longer fit together like they should,
They have lost their magic.

Alone

they

are

nothing...

Little Gemstones

Babies, toddlers, children,
Filling the shop.
Crying, giggling, talking.
But between the noise,
It's the quiet voices I hear.

Mother - "Would you like a money bank?
Which one would you like?
A penguin, an elephant?
Oh how about a crocodile?"

The child shakes his head looking a little scared.

Mother - "You don't want a crocodile?"

The child replies in his little voice;
"No it will bite me."

For once I am early.
On my own,
So I start to walk slowly.
Enjoying the sunshine,
Taking in the atmosphere.

On the opposite side of the road,
A small old fashioned bookshop,
And a cute cafe next door.
My eye catches the word happiness on the sign outside.

I walk up towards the Cathedral
Thinking I may spend my time in there.
I cross over the road and stand at the bottom of the steps.
I contemplate it.

But instead I decide to continue down the road.
Back towards the direction of the bookshop.
As I walk past it,
The titles I notice are slightly odd,
So I do not go in.

I pause outside the cafe, unsure,
I look at my watch
Seeing I have time
I decide to go in.

The menu reads;
"Hot Chocolate
Take advantage of the fireplace,
Hug your mug and enjoy watching the world go by."

A magical morning.
It's a Sunday...
...the streets are empty, all are still asleep.

...A gentle covering of snow,
Almost like a sprinkling,
Shining from the strength of the sun.

So quiet, so beautiful.
A scene in a fairytale.
Birdsong creating the perfect soundtrack.

The world is especially beautiful today.

I've my music so loud I cannot hear anyone else's voice,
Anyone else's conversation.
Sometimes I like to try and figure people out.
But not today.

Today is one of those days,
Where it's as though I can feel every emotion so deeply,
Full of feelings.

I look out into the darkness.
Out there I feel as though I am in my own world.
Watching the darkness,
Seeing small flickers of light creating different patterns.
Passing through towns.
Looking into peoples houses - peoples lives.
And then darkness.

My head filled with the song - with words.
I am away from it all in the darkness.
Until we reach a stop
And I look into the bright train.
With its artificial strip lighting
which pulls me from my beautiful world.

We start to move,
I turn my head towards the window
And I return to the darkness.

Walking home after work,
The sky is darkening.
I cross the little bridge over the dingle.

I look up,
And there in the sky,
Was something beautiful,
Something that brought a smile to my face.

There in the sky,
There was a kiss.

There is beauty in the world, if you open your eyes to it.

Graffiti On The Cycle Path