A short paean* (28-29 November)

What gives me hope?
So many things that lift me up,
Brush away despair’s cobwebbed shades.
Innocence, eyes that have not yet perhaps
Become clouded over by the darkened shades
Of life’s miseries.

Hope carries us everywhere,
Leaves us
Like a sad farewell
Where there can be
No second meeting.

Still I look to the stars,
Turn my eyes away from their gaze
And hold out
For the regeneration of
New life.

I can wait
In hope.

*This is a short piece I composed during our lunchtime writers’ meet-up. If this poem is a little rough at least our meet-up went (seemingly) really well. Because I was running around I only had about four or five minutes to write. Must do something about that in the future.
But I hope something comes from it (yes, a hope reference, I know), that it grows and keeps growing.

A small request (27 October)

What’s broken that cannot be fixed?
What hollow existence for words that
Cannot, will not be shared
But are squirreled away?

Because though our words start off as us
Newborn onto the page our
Helpless creation yet to feel
Life’s scars and pangs,
Scattering thoughts awaiting
Clean attire still retain
Traces of us.

We lose them to others
But not ourselves:

Our words gain strength,
Meaning, power, vitality
Life itself
From being read:
Our writing suffocates,
Must breathe
Through you, through them and

Speak its existence.