Monday, 17 November 2014

Too Late. 
See, my hands are very small:
I use the backs of them
To rub my eyes. 

I didn't realise I would grow
And have to become someone,
Divided and rejected. 

All these whirling minds
As sharp as stars,
But out of sync. 

I couldn't open my book
Until too old and nearly gone,
Now, I begin to read. 

See, my wormy thumbs
Have revealed two leaves
For me to contemplate. 

The first tells of the disconnect
Between rocks and moon,
I feel heavy with guilt. 

The second has coloured in my heart:
I recognise it,
My face burns.
The Search  
What are you doing down there?
I'm looking for something.
Is it lost?
It is not yet found. 
Might I help you search the quiet?
Yes, please close your eyes.
How long will it take?
We cannot know. 
Are you sure that it is missing?
There is a space abandoned.
Will you try somewhere else?
Here may be very close. 
You seem to hesitate.
There is a faint aroma of honeysuckle.
What is that to you?
A connection. 
Shall I now close the door?
My bones are secure beneath the silt.
Then I will leave.
Yes, thank you, and thank them all.
Year 1 
Curling fern toes
Cheery star fingers
Without agenda
Signing to the world. 
Insistent helplessness
Secure that neither
Cry nor fault
Will deter protection. 
And who would betray that trust
When reward offers no object?
Not the red eyed mother,
Up with the moon.

Friday, 23 May 2014

The Descent

There used to be a road
That lead into the bay,
It is long forgotten now:
No one comes this way.

The water was green
Of a deep dark hue,
As if Satan
Had mixed the yellow and the blue.

Arriving in the night
Under a full and orange moon,
Taking each their place
Around that sombre lagoon.

A thousand years they stood,
Child, woman and man,
Waiting for the answer
As to why this all began.

On the day the bay was empty
The people commenced to move,
Holding hands they spiralled down
Into that unholy groove.

Each leaving their bones
To show they'd ever been.
In little heaps around the edge
Where water had lapped so green.

The level now restored,
It just required time,
And these small heaps have turned

Into humps of moss and slime.  

Thursday, 10 April 2014


The end of light had come,
Blackness fell without a sound,
Replacing shadows and glints,
To which all are bound. 

Then he called across the waves,
Then he called across the plains,
Then he called through valleys,
Deeply scored in gritted earth. 

"What am I to do now that you have gone?"
Whilst he hung his head,
In sorrow and despair,
A soft and familiar voice,
Answered as a prayer. 

"As you say I've lost my life, yet,
I will remain should you not forget,
And things you saw with open eye,
You now may view with closed,
And passions vigorous with fire,
Can continue in repose.
But you have our young to grow,
Across years yet to come,
So lock me fast as when alive,
And take me home again." 

Often he would return,
To a place of empty sun,
Speaking with marble lips,
With whom his life begun. 

As she said their young did thrive,
Through their eyes she shone on him,
Till time called each away,
And the coat of purpose wore too thin.
Then to the strand one night he came,
And whispered across the depths,
That he was tired of internal sighs,
Could she give one last caress.  

"I am dying," he said aloud
"Then die my love and fall."
He sank upon his knees,
Then gently folded into the tide,
Which cared not to avoid him,
But rolled him side on side. 

When the light woke the day,
And water returned to ground,
Two people had died on that night,
But only one body found.
                                                              © 2013Connie's Words

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Escorted to Oblivion.  

They came through here yesterday.
Did you see their faces?
Mist quietly parted. 

They moved as best they could.
Did you hear their words?
Leaves spiralled down.

They swayed as snakes in water.
Did you smell their anger?
Some still carried hope.

Their shepherd's soul had perished.
Did you taste their tears?
Their hollowness quivered. 

They were turning from wood to stone.
Did you feel their love?
Mist rolled back.

                                                              © 2014Connie's Words

Wednesday, 2 April 2014

Cold Lake 

Holding tightly her hand
Crossing into forbidden land
She had found the only gate
Of love in a wall of hate. 

So the escape began
Of last woman and man,
Would it be death or life
Cutting cords with destiny's knife? 

Stinking pools of disease
Were shunned, and pleased
With their clever dream
Stronger grew the desperate scheme. 

Fording through the hundredth stream
Scorched clay becoming green
Secure enough to steal some rest
She lay her head upon his breast. 

In that breast beat a rhyme
Connecting ancient to modern time.
Echoing in it's ribbed house of care
All delusions that two might share. 

In that night their rippled breath
Eclipsed the calm mirror of death.
In a treason sleep the two were found
And with ambition securely bound.

                                                                                                                        © 2014Connie's Words

Monday, 31 March 2014

Just back from London, where Rosa set me up with this BlogSpot. I hope to post some of my work soon.