Grip of Gold

foggy-grasses

Golden are her tawny tresses,

Golden are her thoughts of late;

Gold her dreams of greener dresses –

Dipped in gold, her dreams await

Days of golden-sunshined splendour,

Tucked neath golden afternoons;

Patient, she will guard her golden

Songs as hope sings gilded tunes.

Advertisements

For Hymn, the Bell Tolls

Rovinj

 

Toll, ancient bell,

Ring home my wayward heart;

Sing to my soul,

Lest from the truth I part.

Chime, ancient notes,

To strum my wand’ring strings;

Peal forth your hymn,

To give my spirit wings.

Songs of Spring

sunsetdrift.jpg

 

you are my vernal equinox

I lean in to your warmth

frozen places stir, blink

in the brilliance

hope blooms sure, like

snow destined to saturate

the soil, singing songs

of spring

 

The Keys

piano keys

When the hard work came

and fingers fell flat

in dyslexic stumbles

at the stern reminders

of the metronome

who eyed her sharply

over dog-eared pages,

it didn’t feel as though

she had been handed

the keys to the kingdom.

It would take thousands

of chromatic notes to scale

that mountain, thousands

of butchered melody lines

to bind chords of muscle memory

and visual acuity into

harmonious union,

inversions ringing

as theory sang its way

into practise.

She couldn’t tell you

when the notes began to stir

something more than

soured milk in her soul,

when the melodies

sank into her bones

and played her heart-strings

in tones of salvation songs;

all she knows is that

these keys have unlocked

Rapunzel’s gate,

releasing the Muse,

and fingering their well-worn

skin ignites her own

with a song

that beats in her breast

with the sound

of her own

pulse.

And She Dances

lollipop.jpg

 

Light, robed in fabric

satin-spun with sun-beams,

sways – swirls, extends

muscles and feet

.

in secretive dance

upon stage soft as

silk. Her music is

the subtle sigh of lonesome

.

 

pines, the cadence of

songbirds greeting the

dawn, the rustle of

feathers in flight;

 

she delights in this

moment, this filament of time

hung on summer breeze,

and she dances. Her

.

body melts into

nature’s melody – is

electrified by its pulse,

consumed by its rhythm,

.

choreographed by its

raw emotion. She lets go,

jubilation in every line,

and she dances.

 

 

 

Heart-Strings

trollius.jpg

 

He played her heart

strings, plucked each

one with practised

hand, ode to joy

.

in every note. By

the time her soul

was his, he had changed

his tune, cadence

.

soured by off-colour

harmonies out of

place with love

songs; now her

.

heart-strings sag,

derelict, waiting

to be moved by

a new duet.