Unseen

As I stand in my cage,

constrained by walls of dust,

unseen by the  masses.

I, sentinel unseen.

 

To you, I’m but an eagle on a perch,

scanning the horizon –

No thought unturned,

Nothing unseen.

 

To sit, solitary.

To stand, alone.

As time moves –

a silent tide.

 

I eat music

and spew art.

I drink oblivion

and birth poetry.

 

Long nights drip from my pen,

woven stars from silver thread.

Petals of blood, and love.

A solitary heartbeat.

 

I dance pain,

throwing beauty around.

I wear tears

and millstones, like pearls, around my neck.

 

I breathe the dust

of forgottenness,

an unseen pillar.

Guardian of thought, unseen.

 

I am the unseen.

My trails of art,

a veil slightly pierced.

Meagre witness of my being.

 

Tears are naught.

Only frustration remains.

Marks left on paper,

Still cry my silent tears.

 

 

 

 

Soekie 15-11-2016

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My tears fall,

like soft summer rain,

but it’s the winter of the heart.

 

Once more, I stand on life’s pier.

A lonely figure in the mist,

A pitiful phantom.

 

Now, your time has come –

the journey where I cannot follow.

Already the whisper: “Let me go”

 

Once more, death’s veil will fall.

Of water and mist,

Of silence and sorrow.

 

Today I lost my shadow.

Today my arm was severed.

Today my heart stopped.

 

I grabbed my chest.

I bent over.

In that moment my tears contained all the world’s sorrow.

 

This, life’s vertigo:

No up, no down,

No forward or backward.

 

The way is shut.

 

And so, you pass into memory –

Of dreams and whispers,

of sleep and death.

 

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Jy was die naaste wat iemand soos ek ooit aan ‘n kind kon kom. Dankie vir al jou liefde. Jy was my ou skaduweetjie. Ek sou enigiets gee om jou net nog ‘n klein rukkie te kon vashou.

Jou ogies het deur my ruite gekyk,

Jy het vlindersag my mure afgebreek.

Jou hart het myne – beseerde soldaat – gesteun terwyl dit voort gehunkepink het –

tydelike rus in die lopende herstel.

 

 

 

 

My life’s breath

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Slowly I make my way

across vast plains of stone.

I share the benefit of shelter

in palaces I do not own.

 

Slowly I weave my silver chain –

String-of-pearls for no one’s neck.

Glassy baubles, not to adorn.

Lacy cards within my deck.

 

Beauty is my spider’s craft.

It gives me life’s breath.

Perhaps, not to share therein,

I weave of love and death.

 

 

Graceful

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She glides across life,

maintaining the delicate dance.

Serenely, she goes through her paces,

but never showing her cards.

 

The tender thread holds,

never letting her stray far.

A life imprisoned,

sustaining her existence.

 

She dances across the ages,

her petals slowly unfurl.

Of porcelain and silk –

steel and ice unseen.

Silence

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The walls around my heart

surround a place never seen.

They drift like icebergs

in the oceans of my mind.

I sit by my window,

a tiny shadow without name.

In the darkness I wait,

playing Solitaire with my loneliness.

The hours begin to drip,

forming droplets on the window’s glass,

running down

and settling in pools at my feet.

Your silence,

the lashes of a whip,

has become a map on my skin.

Lines carved on my back and wrists.

My unsent letters lie crumpled on the floor.

Paper dogs producing offspring,

little paper mongrels

nipping at my heels.

The walls around my heart

have become walls around me,

staring with faces unseen

and mouths that do not speak.

I float around

in the oceans of my mind.

My heart is now a stone

to drown me with its weight.

Silence is not silent.

It leans across the table,

it screams in my face

like a Banshee.

Sadness is not sad.

It flies in through the window,

under darkness’ tender blanket

like a raven.

It is I –

held by Sadness, gagged by Silence,

standing by the window –

mouth saying nothing, eyes seeing nought.

Depression/SAD

I felt I had to say something on the subject.

There are so many people suffering from this as well as related issues. It’s become a huge problem. The worst is the loneliness. Those who don’t suffer from it often find it difficult to understand what it’s like to have to live through this, so we feel alone, even though we’re surrounded by people.

I’ve just suffered a relapse during the turning of the season: no energy, suddenly eating like a crazed lunatic, no inspiration and no interest in anything, crying incessantly for no apparent reason, doubt, self-doubt, fear… The list is endless. I have the ADHD/OCD thing too, urgh!

So I wrote this poem, because the first prompt I got just as my health started to improve, was ‘Silence’. If you’re a sufferer, just remember that you’re not alone!

I’ve made it my mission to fight this condition with all I’ve got. This led me to find out more about improving my lifestyle. Still learning everyday, but it really helps a lot! 

PS. I would love to hear from you! Feel free to share your story.

Little Children

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What is happening to this world?

Brother against brother we stand.

 

I see a playground

and on it, little children:

brothers and sisters

fighting over a Father’s love.

One Father, many children, one family.

 

I see a playground

and on it, little children:

the bullies and the victims,

fighting over their differences.

Some invited in, others cast out.

 

I see a playground.

On it, just little children:

the popular and the unpopular,

fighting over the right

to be on this playground.

 

Who decided this?

Why?

When?

 

The playground didn’t change much,

nor the rules of the game.

Neither did we.

We are the children of yesterday.

 

I see you, men and women:

Yesterday’s children,

fighting over land that is not yours.

Deciding fates, directing lives

you do not own.

 

Creation –

Humans, animals, plants, water, land.

You are stewards of these, not owners.

Never forget.

 

Beware little children,

for time is a fragile thing,

like wings of a butterfly on the wind.

Do not stray, little children,

for time is a sharp-edged sword.

 

So, play nicely, little children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surface

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On the surface beyond which no one looks –

a calm ocean,

a mirrored plane,

life continual.

 

The surface of my skin

may crack under melancholy and strain,

but perhaps even that

passes unseen.

 

The surface of my heart

in darkness waits –

untouched, yet guarded,

for love’s tender touch.

 

For only your touch –

key turned in lock,

at destiny’s feet

will move the surface of my soul.