C I R C L E S

Back here again - same spot different day

no breeze this time and the sunshine has gone

It is quieter, stiller, more subdued somehow

why is it, that whatever road I take

it always leads me right back here

So little done, so much to do

I think that I may just be

walking in circles

a g a i n

to feel the storm building. . .

The wind whipped her hair
wrapping it around her face

she reached up and pushed it
back behind her ears

She was too close to the edge
she knew it but didn't care

It was exhilarating

to feel the spray from the crashing waves

to feel the storm building

She squinted her eyes
against the rushing wind

licking her lips
tasting the salt
tasting the ocean

Towering clouds raced across the bruised sky
grey and purple, like a vast mountain range

Her heart was racing

low rumbles of thunder moved closer
the air crackled with electricity

The silver black ocean
hurled itself at the shore
crashing over the slippery rocks

She was soaked to the skin
wet strands of hair
wound around her neck

her eyes stinging
and streaming with tears

Streaks of lightning
turned the sky into a lightbox

and the waves roared
the thunder crashed

and she could no longer hear herself think

She screamed into the sound

joining it

adding her energy

She felt passion run through her like a storm
and she was the waves crashing
and the arcing lights
in the electric sky

She felt the thunder
like a force within

. . . and the wind just kept on howling

She fell to her knees
clinging on to the slippery black slate

she was spent

charged

alive

One thought repeating
over and over in her ocean filled mind

If only I could stay here

forever. . .

This is an older piece that I have altered and partially rewritten
for the Thursday Think Tank prompt - Beach/Ocean

Time Travel

T I M E T R A V E L

I opened the door and there you were
Just as I had left you so long ago

The frozen moment immortalised
still replaying. . . over and over

But, now I am here again
to tell you I am sorry

to ask you to
forgive
me

Shall we. . .

Shall we sing a different song this time
one that makes the leaves quiver like
a gentle breeze is passing by

Shall we take a different route this time
one that leads through wooded valleys
and meanders beside a tiny stream

Shall we try to understand this time
that we are two separate people
who are walking the same road



- Susannah Bec 2010

Sanctuary - poetry prompt #9

This was written for -
the Poetry Blogroll - Poets United
The Thursday Think Tank - Prompt #9
S A N C T U A R Y

My first time writing from a poetry prompt, but the title of this one spoke to me. :-)

*

Behind the facade
the kerb appeal
of outer skin
are many rooms

each has a
wooden door

some lead
to tiny spaces
filled with books

another to a vast hall
where there is dancing

from some
you can hear
the strains
of distant music

or bird song,
or the gentle lapping of waves

some doors are ajar
shedding spangles of light

some are tightly closed
but their handles are
bright and shiny
from use

but, there is one special door

It is painted turquoise
richly decorated with birds
and seashells and sparkling with
pieces of sea tumbled glass

it has a perfect heart shaped keyhole
opened by the little gold key
that hangs from the ribbon
around my neck

it is the door
to the sanctuary

the one
that exists

inside
me

*

- Susannah Bec 2010

Fragile

I am paper thin

the fragile membrane

protecting my wound

a sham

a trick of the eye

*

a raw spot

a gossamer wing

an eggshell

the truth

disguised

*

facade in place

the parade

continues


This was written at the beginning of the year but has not been posted here before.
I was empathising with a friend who had suffered a loss and within moments an almost forgotton wound opened up before me, fresh and raw. . .

- Susannah Bec 2010