a man, a dog and the pond at the bottom of the levee:
brown reeds, an egret and a few muted gulls, scattered.
a man stopping, crouching, gazing into the distance,
holding on to that taut leash
for dear life.
his eyes across the water
with the solitude of the world.
in my headphones,
Adele belting out:
Night was falling in the coppice-wood
Each strand of light threadbare and bluish
Thinned out into mystery
The path darkened, populated by shadows
The clock in the church tower struck
The hour of the owls
Something shrieked in the distance
And a human shape approached on a bike
I clutched my umbrella with sweaty palms
My pulse quickened
A frightening moment all my own
A flirt with danger
An out-of-body experience
Dilating, not shrinking
Expecting to turn into a leaf or a slug to escape it all
Or to simply sit still and dissolve into a breath or a breeze
But then there you were
My phone lighting up with your number
Asking if I was OK
The man on the bike pedaled on
And I was left alone to settle into the peace
And the exhilaration.
#poetry #creative #writing
dear God is so annoyingly old-fashioned
that he’s gone
thousands of years without
an upgrade in design.
we are obsolete.
we continue to be born with hands –
tools for tactile emotion –
even though there is no one to hold,
even though there is no one to touch,
even though everything is nothing
“God, can’t I have a built-in keyboard, instead?
please, I’ll be nice…”
clutching our laptops we toil
happily away into the dusk
into the dark
into certain death.