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Tag Archives: আশা
soup in cans
history cannot be muted by a kiss
butterflies will not drown in your drink
dark streets do not betray your shadow
he strokes her fragrance
with a soft inhale,
a kitchen room
cabinets stove fridge and sink
table center
soup can next to opener,
between them,
the earth has not fallen
yet still they stare
not at each other
but at the can
silver topped paper wrapped,
blood smears oceans
and desert sand,
wine flavored tongues begin to talk,
as they decide
stripped of it’s cloth
the table was bare and knotted,
around her shoulders
cloth placed
as they found out about
soup and why it was in
can
poignant limitations of sorrow
jeweled tombs of once visionary eyes
that had lost fiery lightning and the moon,
withdrawn no supernatural
accomplishment,
as symbols of obscure hours
watched with a disdain for light
becoming soiled by the soul
with august sorrows,
mankind knew of many merciless rulers
who used terror as supreme power,
rebellion awakened from stubborn sleep,
imagination of those
seeing a future others had not
next morning would have many suggestions,
vanity would not nurse emotion
bullets would not be kissed by lips
that spoke of treacherous dreams,
music of voices spread over cities
and blue skied landscapes,
plans conceived with tears
and women taking widows veil,
television messages and distortion
vulgar external eyes
hands folded on lap
pretend subtle debate and interest
whilst buildings burn
assured rocks thrown
defiance not disguised,
all interior tragedies have those warriors
the fallen and fables,
but all endings are not the same
for that you have to wait
for winters grasp
burning crooked roses
coyotes yip !
as i walk through baby cyclones
up the stairs to the sky
as she remained
on sweating rocking horse
deeply sea pearl glint in eye,
oh is there anything else other
than immortality,
reward and wisdom,
have i become the dog
that runs through muddy rivers
to wash the gasoline of brutality off,
i will never see an algae
covered stone coffin,
horse keeps rocking
travelling this
unremarkable earth machine,
stairs behind me
as are leaking babies
and crushed beercans,
no cloud castle
old vagrants song rings softly,
weeping in whitman’s embrace
i have left human shape
finger shadows reach
as frozen spider would,
my once and fevered love
rides on
elephant looks in a broken mirror
when a thought becomes a fraction
divided into memory
and everyday fatigue
it settles not happy to remain
will divide again
into dreams and realization
long cerebral passageways
cluttered with electric snapshots
of a life lived long,
thinking was a process
started in the morning
after rinsing mouth and bathing
combed and prepared
opened the mind
some fractions found division harder
and became elongated spools
of tension and agitation
hands that tremor
ever so slightly
as sipping a glass of lemonade,
beneath this mass of
seething activity
normal had almost resumed
old fractions worked
looking at a photo album
your son found in the loft
other debris of a life in one place
gathered and divided
and will be when your
gone
Fathers Day
i am father
and my father was father before me
we are form
almost unified shape
tied by familial genetics,
i am here
my father gone
bond unbroken love unbound
memory and cohesion
i have many of his traits,
i am here
and he still is
of the dust of the wind
yet at my side
that rub of ache in the forehead
as his thoughts and mine collide,
i have voice
my children hear
i make it apparent
as i heard my father,
despite long hours of work
his words i could hold
and made me smile
a child growing taught what is right
molded by nurturing consideration,
i am love
to my children
as he to me
never too old to embrace
and accept eternal bond
now without him
i will carry on
and my sons
as fathers will
Ivan Hare 18/06/27-09/01/13
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