Tuesday, October 12, 2004

and she wept as one who longed for autumn
(but can autumn ever make things new?)
changing days to signify the constancy of seasons
no safety here in cooler winds and quicker nights
on golden paths daring to enchant
entice to what cannot be real
day dreams dripping down like leaves
only a soft flutter and rustle
to mark their death

and she remembered yet another winter
that searing cold that never leaves
and frozen fog moments clinging to her heart
land and filth covered by frail white
lost and finite in a bleak, diamond landscape
powdered longings fall and melt
as breaths (hopesdreamsfears) freeze inside
that tangible cold that left her unmoving
with a promise to return...

And she melted into the coming Spring
As though her heart forever needed warmth
Searching for life among broken branches
Colour emerges out of barrenness
Like the long awaited sun
A newness seems to subtly spread
As she lifts up her eyes...

and she wandered through the summer fields
ripe with adventure in the shimmering, thickened air
dancing in the rain of freedom
yet succumbing to the sluggishness of another humid morning
rife with meaning endings beginnings
so easily missed in the glamour
(until it's all over and you return to life having learned...)
having learned nothing more than the warm breath of the sun
the lapping of waves and softly eroding sand dissolving underfoot
dayfading, summer fantasies live on in the heart (while you still sting from burns)
summer pain (you can run away when you return when you return to life)


charlotte oke


posted by Unknown @ 8:06 AM

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tell me no lies

Poetry has always been, at least for me, an outlet of honest expression. Our perspectives often become blurred by our circumstance and the difference between what is truth and what is merely what we feel can sometimes become difficult to determine. But poetry is a sweet expression of us trying to comprehend the world around us, trying to comprehend life, circumstance, emotion. It can be theraputic, it can be freeing, it can date a period in our lives, and it can give others a glimpse of us that they may have never seen. So share a poem, send me your story, give me a picture (I'll do my best to put it on), send it to godsbutterfli@gmail.com; share your honest expression here, and tell me no lies.

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