At Sunrise

Photography by Al Forbes

The sun stretches across the silken drape
In dawns of awareness there’s no escape
A breath of life in the darkness of sleep
With the sensual arousal of a dream
As confused euphoric tears gently weep
For the love that has come to find its voice
In the disarray of a world of change
As the past confounds in misinformed choice
With futures where all things seem new and strange
In new beginnings thoughts and dreams exchange
The ways that delve beyond deeper than deep
As the art of love takes a different shape
Acceptance replaces the panicking scream
And the soul of love once more can rejoice





© JG Farmer 2013

Prompt: : http://kattermonran.com/2013/10/19/weekly-photo-challenge-what-are-hue-looking-for/

Call of the Wilderness

Curbar Edge by Les Wilcockson

Brief conversations in wild arias sung in ancient voices where grass and heather whisper the echoes of the wind on the horizon.

The lothario lover used to stand on that rock recalled heather aromatically

Even stone can smile in thoughts of love when the young alpha chased his damsel for a kiss.

Their pups would frolic in twilight, their play watched only by the wild hills grass murmured in its memory

And the stone sighed, recalling the coming of Man in a stench of death and extinction.

Winds howled, their sorrow too much to bear

Yet ears that do not listen only hear silence.

© JG Farmer 2013

Prompt: http://theboipoet.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/words-at-weekend-12-13-october.html

No Reason

Black eyes crowded in mystery shield the magical imaginations of an old man. Each furrowed line of his ancient skin a different path in his destiny of transformation.

Alchemy is an odd thing he mused for no reason in particular, since no one cared to listen.

Oh he knew they heard him and how they assumed he was just a wittering old man. The higher perceptions of the old ways were no use to them with their smart shiny computers. 

A harmless old man practicing a long dead craft, he couldn't hurt a fly they said.

Arcane wisdoms whispered into the wind just an old man’s mutterings but how they wailed when the power went down for no reason in particular.

© JG Farmer 2013

Inspired by: 

http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/11/trifecta-week-102.html

Haiku

whispering blades

lost in the mowing of men

silence remembers

© JG Farmer 2013


Inspired by:

Draw Near

It is that time of year when I feel that familiar presence.  As the winter days beckon and the nights close in my eyes watch the flames with more intensity. Flames that dance in a non-existent breeze as I seek the tell-tale signs you have come home.

On the rug in front of the fire I inhale the first delicate wisps of Rive Gauche and I pray this time I will feel your touch engulf me like it used to before the darkness came between us. Now there are just ‘if only’s’ left and they are no comfort on a cold winter’s night.

In the hazy firelight I think I see you smile and hear your laughter in the crackle of burning wood. I reach out but you are gone. The tendrils of sweet perfume are rapidly replaced by the aromatic burning pine and emptiness as once again I am alone.

© JG Farmer 2013

Prompt: http://theboipoet.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/muse-to-music-10-october-2013.html

Precipice

Texte: forward along the cliff-edge – The Composer Says This is How We Should Live Our Lives by Patricia Fargnoli

The eyes focus forward to future days
While silent thoughts visualize the changing ways
When dreaming is the way living will be
Instead of tittering on the knife-edge
And barely gazing out across the sea
The journey must start with the biggest leap
As the footstep becomes the giant stride
That leaves behind the broken tears that weep
For chances lost in all that the heart denied
Emotions shatter as they slip and slide
With no privacy in the public gaze
All those words of hate make the going steep
As aching feet fumble from ledge to ledge
On the precipice towards destiny

© JG Farmer 2013

Notes:

Prompt: http://theboipoet.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/whimsical-wednesday-09-october-2013.html

Form: Ivorian Sonnet CII 

Thoughts at Sunset

Rum Dusk by Belinda A Pearce

Fantasy flies out on the setting sun
As senses sigh on love that lies undone
A meant to be that was not destiny
Replaced by solo dancing ‘neath the moon
While stars fade out across the darkened sea
The unseen tears that weep throughout the night
Are now cast down, defined by cosmic lore
In sad love songs that float upon moonlight
As empty eyes have no need to explore
The solitary footprints on the shore
For they already know where they begun
Where early morning rays came into sight
And the rolling days of eternity
The soliloquy of a loveless tune



© JG Farmer 2013


Notes

Prompt: http://theboipoet.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/mondays-masterpiece-7-october-2013.html

Form: Ivorian Sonnet CI 

Only Words

The ink that flows freely from a writer’s pen stalled that day. Every word seemed wrong and out of place and each one felt like a lead weight dragging down on my heart. The salutation was too formal but a familiar cheery greeting would have been inappropriate.

This letter had to be clear and concise. No pretty waffling decorating the page and clouding the issue. Slowly behind me the pile of screwed up balls of paper grew, each one evidential of my inability to communicate simple facts.

The silver fountain pen drank heavy on another intake of viscous black ink and I started the process again. Once again fighting the urge to give up my pen struggled to write.

Later my hand shook as I put the envelope in the red box outside the Post Office before I drifted home to the safety behind the closet door.

Job done!

© JG Farmer 2013

Prompt: http://theboipoet.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/tuesdays-thinking-08-october-2013.html