Parched Spirits

Fen

2006-10-05T07:09:00.000-07:00

Vast skies a changing canvas:
dark clouds and stormlight
swift- moving, sheeting rain
A dank roof of solid air.

small plants fight their daily battles,
struggling to stay afloat
resisting the creeping pull
of the deep water below.

Each clod of earth a triumph of survival,
hiding between root and stone.
Until the spring floods part leaves
raping fields of loam and clay
to leave a silty wake.
Olivia

"Summer Sucks"

2006-10-05T05:22:00.000-07:00

I would like to introduce a new poet - an american female Philip Larkin. Thank you, Fat Sparrow for sharing your stark verse with us

Summer sucks
the life out of me
sweaty Elvis days
too hot to play
four showers a day
and if I had my way
summer would
fuck right off

Fat Sparrow

Patient

2006-09-27T04:20:00.000-07:00

Patient

Winter is here again
Her papery old purple tongue
Infiltrating my cave, my soul
Extinguising that feeble, warm, flame of hope,
Summer's only gift to me

Now everything is damp, cold, dark again
I am gradually devoured
By the rheumatism of my emotions
Spring will never come for me

Olivia Harris

New Beginnings -and a new poetess!

2006-03-31T07:58:00.000-08:00

first a gentle breeze
ripples through the landscape -
the new wind of change
Miss Gan Ching

Ghost

2006-03-15T07:57:00.000-08:00

I saw you yesterday
you passed me in the street, talking to a friend
you didn't see me.

I stopped and turned
watching you walk away
your familiar lope
Those hands

Your face is etched in my mind forever,
despite my efforts to forget
your jawline, hard
your soft mouth
and unreadable eyes.

And with that brief sighting
my heart filled up with pain:
memory of the pain you caused me
and my ever-present longing
to be with you.

Time's healing, undone
I leant against the wall
senses reeling
your voice in my ears
your taste in my mouth
a synaesthetic tide
flooding my body
as each sensory function merged with the next
triggered by the sight
of you walking away from me again
Olivia

Untitled - by Dr Maroon

2006-03-08T03:58:00.000-08:00

After the rains come fresh breezes,clearing out the heavy air and refreshing the spirit.

Thank you Dr Maroon for crafting this exquisite piece. Not only does it have a special meaning for me, but, as our friend Miss Redhead pointed out, most aptly, anyone who has survived the bad times, will appreciate these sentiments.

Carefree, a child among the rock pools,
Paddling, in the warm sandy ripples
Inviting water warm,
Calm with fishes
Strong over-arm strokes take him out a bit
The water’s colder here
Not quite so pleasant
A bit of cramp
No panic yet
Although there’s a current now
Bit more effort
Still in control
Bit of a swell
The sea’s gone grey
Full power now
The smallest tug of panic
Just as suddenly
Feet back on the sand
Wading ashore into the sunlight
Warm and dry
But turn and look
This is not his shore
The Rubicon has been crossed.
Dr AHK Maroon

The Wish

2006-03-06T04:59:00.002-08:00

If I could find one,
just one friend
to know me,
My loneliness would slip from my shoulders
like a dressing gown
revealing my naked person,
its beauty and its flaws

There can be no greater isolation
than to be around those,
who feel they know who I truly am

All that they know is their own projection,
a likeness of a person,
a rough drawn scrawl on the back of an envelope,
two dimensional, rushed,
a vulgar grasp of two, three traits
at best similar, but never the same.

As the years pass, the distance between
me, and the people who would know me
neither widens nor narrows,
but stays at an eternal, uncomfortable length.
For two paths that meander will surely cross at some point
parallel lines never meet,
the gap between our different life journeys
is filled
with ignorance and sadness.

I am no better.
when I look at colours, mine
is surely a different shade of violet to yours
and what makes my heart tighten,
may leave you tepid.
Yet I would have you share the things
that make my soul soar,
regardless of your own reaction,
because I want you to feel
what it really is like to be me.
Olivia Harris

Hole Maker

2006-02-28T00:10:00.000-08:00

This poem is pretty raw - but extremely moving. Thank you Miss Redhead for this glimpse into your anguish.

~ Hole Maker ~
An aching heart,
empty of life
void of feeling ~

small glimmers of light,
but they aren't meant for me
no, not for me.

~ Only happy people allowed
even if the grin is pasted on
glued in place

~ What happens when the grin is gone?
what will I do without it?
I can't find it anywhere.

~ Once again, he lashes out
all faults are mine
why? How can he manipulate me like that?

~ Something is wrong
I never should have given him my heart
So in reality, the fault IS mine

~ Like a sinking ship, with only a bucket to slog away the deathly waters
anchored into an existance with no escape
you can't run away, you can't mend the holes

~ afterall, how do you mend holes that you don't make?
the patches never fit
the holes are still there

~ he sees the holes
pretends they aren't there
tells me I'm crazy, there aren't any holes.

~ then he picks up the bludgeoning words
and makes a few more,
points at them

~ Look, you made another hole
What's wrong with you?
he says

~ you'll ruin us all,
making holes like that,
better grab that bucket, try to bail us all out

~Hole Maker~

~unreliable~

~can't depend on you for anything~

~Hole Maker~

~the silent tears unanswered
filling the ship evermore

~there must be another bucket
somewhere
somehow
Miss Redhead

Meme - the power of seven

2006-02-23T05:21:00.000-08:00

Ha Ha Ha, who sometimes comments at the bottom of my poems has tagged me to complete an internet survey. I think Mr Ha is a frustrated poet who hasn't quite found the courage within himself to express his darker feelings in verse. He quite often makes insulting remarks on this site, but I am a very forgiving person. I understand that his comments are not malicious, but rather the work of an angry individual. To show that there are no hard feelings between us, I have completed his on-line survey, and I think it gives a good insight into the inner workings of your poetess friend!

Seven things to do before I die:

See the northern lights

Learn to fly

Visit a sufi community

Get published

Use the money to buy my own vineyard and blend my own wonderful organic wines

Harness my own strength to heal people. I truly believe there is a healing power greater even than reiki, so strong is the will of a person. I would love
to discover the strength we all have and teach people to heal with love

To be loved as deeply as I can love

Seven things I can't do

Forget

Throat singing (I have been on a course, but i just couldn't get the hang of it. I think you need the power of the steppe to give you the extra dimension of sound)

Forgive myself if I am not perfect.

Speak tagalog (I can speak quite a lot of languages, I just can't seem to get the hang of that one)

Eat tripe. I think it is awful

Look at a great piece of art without crying

Watch soap operas or other mindless reality television

Seven things I say:

I think your chakras are blocked

Exquisite

Peace and blessings

Don't hit it, it will break

I'm soft-spoken and soft-hearted but I'll fight for love

Imagination is the colour palette of the soul

The pain I feel is proof that I loved with all my heart

Seven things that attract me to a city:

Beautiful architecture

A city which has no suburbs - the city limits are beautiful countryside

An ancient spa

Inhabitants who have time for one another, unlike the hard-faced stressers of London

An ashtanga yoga centre

Really good bookshops - especially antiquarian ones, I love to browse and inhale the scent of wisdom.

A university. I hate living in places where there is no vibrancy, no sense of learning and sharing knowledge

Seven movies I've loved

Manon de Source
91/2 Weeks
If
Three Colours Blue
As Good as it Gets
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Don Carlo
It's a Wonderful Life

Seven Books I Like

Poor Things
To the Lighthouse
Love in the Time of Cholera
Tess of the D'Urbervilles
The Remains of the Day
Fear of Flying
In Search of Lost Time

Ring

2006-01-15T09:23:00.000-08:00

Scathing sister:

Greener than you know.
You choose your stone unwisely,
Flint heart.

Warm her soul, Ruby!
Quench her ire, Sapphire!
Light her way, Diamond!

Bilious to the core, Medusa
Your web of snakes cannot harm me
My heart was turned to rock
By someone crueller

My blade of truth shall be the mirror
To destroy you, to refine you
I will wear down your jagged edges
I will imprison you with golden walls of kindness
You will reflect.

Olivia Harris

The fickle gardener

2005-12-20T05:59:00.000-08:00

You planted in my heart a flower garden,
Vibrant and intense
with every beat the sweetest, most enticing scent
diffused and circulated through my blood.

Until one day, with skin still hot from love,
you looked at me and said it was the last time.
The last time that we would be together,
and with these words, you reached into my heart's garden
and pulled out each
perfect bloom by the root.
Leaving just clotted earth and stone, a lifeless pit

Even fields that are left fallow do not remain bare earth for long
and I betrayed you, by living on.
In time my heart's parched beds began to yield small plants
some sharp and bitter chickweed, thistles too
and blade upon blade of grass, life's fillers, no beauties, yet alive.
Only the foolish think weeds ugly, sharp or sour,
strength is their beauty, and time brings out their blooms

Where once were luscious shrubs, now subtle flecks of colour
speckle the strong and hardy crops
of my heart's garden, left wild it is far more beautiful
than when cultivated by a talented but fickle hand.

Olivia Harris

Haiku

2005-11-18T09:52:00.000-08:00

Crisp chill of winter~
stale grey skies before the storm~
You used to love me.

redhead83402

Autumn

2005-11-07T17:22:00.000-08:00

the geraniums are struggling now
like our love
the stoat lies squashed
flattened as our summer dreams

the sun rises like an egg
one of those watery ones
it has no heat
nay, not now

incessant rains have washed me clean
of optimism
while in her flooded burrow
the coney waits

clenched bite of weasel
sends her to the surface
full fur flying in a blur
sharp-eyed harrier has its tea

if we watered them
fed them nitrates
they would flourish
once again

with fragrant sighs and whispered murmurs
you give me hope, for the spring
give us a kiss you stupid prick
is what you say.

Dr. Maroon

Red and Blue

2005-11-07T03:45:00.000-08:00

A strong hand reaches through the ether
It strokes my soul
My physician.
I cannot see his body, his face
But I can already taste
The impossible chemistry of his tears
Salt but frozen
I will melt the ice spike in his heart
With a heat so fierce
That tears will turn to white hot vapour
Searing shut the heart wound, now
Bejewelled with pure white crystals
And words shall vanquish numbers
Leaving us naked
Together
Swimming in a red and blue dawn.

Olivia Harris

Groups of four

2005-11-02T18:00:00.000-08:00

You made an icicle of my tears
and stabbed me through the heart
7493 4959 4905 4056 3044...
Recorded voice on 23.54 mega cycles
Your numbers chill me
To the bone
In groups of four
You deal out death and
Despair
5746 0092 4536 9870 3450...
You say not naught
But always zero
To avoid confusion
In a democracy my view is equal
Not worthless
2314 4536 6528 6786 3241...

Dr. Maroon

Light Pleasures

2005-10-24T01:40:00.000-07:00

How deceptive is the feather
tiny strands on a strong shaft
lightness its very strength
bearing greatness aloft

Catching the light
in its oiled fingers
delighting the eye
with a prism of filtered colour

The feathers touch is
serious in its levity
each nerve ending wakes
from desperate slumber

my skin reaches out
towards the feather
goosebumps offering
each downy hair

delicate and teasing
in a wicked elision
of death and rebirth
the dead, discarded feather
gives me new life

Olivia Harris

small but strong

2005-10-14T05:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I speak, I feel my voice is slipping
past the ears and understanding of the world
As if I were, somehow, less of a person
less important, less deserving than my peers

Those who call themselves strong and powerful
those who think themselves unassailable
to all of you I say, there are no human fortresses
All that is real for us is pain and tears

Not everyone believes themselves invincible
the world resounds with cries and hollers for attention
but some of us, the meeker sweeter ones
sit and hurt and bleed inside,
Feelings turn to varices, until time
forces the haemorrhage

Olivia Harris

The Blade

2005-10-13T08:14:00.000-07:00

I am a knife
Sharpened by life's whetstone
But also worn away,
My sparks scattered on society's gravel
My bone handle discoloured by rough treatment.

What can a knife be without a hand to hold it?
I am rattling, alone, in the dark
The drawer of life is shut
For me, only dust, and the crumbs of past encounters.

I cannot bury my grief in a shroud of rust
Even that is beyond me: I am stainless.
I must find new life blood to save me from
Fatigue of my very mettle
And to hide my reflection from myself.

A hand to guide me
A heart that beats
With selfish blood
Then I will feel human again
Once I can share my pain.

Olivia Harris

The Pheasant

2005-10-07T10:40:00.000-07:00

I dreamt in a dream, I passed through your intestines,
Warm as the womb, dark as the night.
In the dream, you were a pheasant
Sprinting, dun-speckled and free, through autumn fields.
Our idyll had to end; the force of peristalsis
May not be trifled with, no not by lovers,
Nor by kings.
But our dream, alas, it was cut shorter still!
The thundering gun, the pulsing ebb of life,
And then the hunter's knife:
It spilled me into rain-grey desolation.
Smooth cozy caecum forfeit, there I lay,
On stubbled ground where sweating oafish men
Had lately raped the hillside of her hay.

Olivia Harris

the constant

2005-09-29T10:52:00.000-07:00

My body is a flaccid corpse,
My face a rictus mask
with all my senses, passions and distress
embalmed.

But if my eyes should fill with tears
which then descend, do not be fooled
Each pathetic blot of water is no more
than sweat from my soul

Exhaustion from exertion of emotions
finds no peace in sleep
perhaps death will release me from
this stasis

Olivia Harris

The sound of death

2005-09-22T03:25:00.000-07:00

Last night, I died in my dream,
and as I left my body, splintered bone and blood
there was no pain, no fear, no more of me
and all there was to mark my death
was the wind roaring

I did not wake, and yet I always thought
dying in a dream impossible
But what remained and all there was
was the wind roaring

Just as my dreaming state threatened my mind with death
so did my body fight, and I awoke
And all at once, the roaring wind was gone,
its breath restored to me

Olivia Harris

Hollow tree

2005-04-08T11:24:00.000-07:00

Each day I walk alone I see the tree
Trunk widened, wizened, weathered by the years
Girth great, soft centre lacking, just a shell
The inner wood eroded by my tears

The last four years have passed away to shadows
Misery held me numbly in its clasp
Why did you leave? The question haunts me daily
What my head hears my heart will never grasp

Olivia Harris