Back in the Daze....Chase
Back when a tiny cherub sat scrunched on my lap
Foriging for my oh so precious milk
Whilst i sat doting
At two soles
Of the most precious
Silk
When i was a mother a woman a girl
When all was expectant
As i let life unfurl
He
Was all of me
Part of me
Everything
Now he prepares to fly the coup
Ill settle with my memories and a warm bowl of
Cream of tomato
Soup
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Three White Feathers
With the frivolity of butterflies
During the most fragile moments
Three White feathers
In as many weeks
Peacefully, angelically, inexplicably
Kissed the air, whilst landing for comfort
Upon your gentle lap
And you smiled so very
Beautifully, softly, hopefully
To tear at my innards, knowing
The
significance and comfort of...
.... Those Three White Feathers
Miss you x
poem by Karen Sinclair
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War....A Grey Matter....1914
Dulling grey eyes scour the landscape slate
Charcoal skies
Tipped with dishonest
Silver linings
Our hero slowly dies
Slipping as
Uniforms dash past
Darts of scarlet
Scratch the hopeless land
And
Faint voices cut the silence
In vile desperation
Our hero
Sand
Merely a removable object
Soon to be forgotten
Soon to be replaced by summers opulence
Whilst I just sit and write?
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Bear
Bear..
stone clad shores
welt beneath your warmth
fir lined trees
stand silent in your presence
misted waters raise to greet a vibrant sky in jubilation
as salmon fight ferocious rapids
you
intent
listen and watch
baited breath
silent
your cumbersome claw hovers as a wieghtless mosquito
dancing hithertoo
for that oh so perfect
catch
titanium
[...] Read more
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Questions?
Lost in the solitude of
Own
Possessed in the numerical form of
One
Why does a glass crack uninvited
Why does the sum of none stand unrequited
Why does the prodigal son always return
To the scene of painful ridicule
Never learn
Where he so desires ne-er to be
Why is freedom smothered in chastity
When will the bell toll
Its final ring
Why is a free spirit never allowed to joyously
Sing........
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Phthalo Blue........
My
White spirit is lifted
And poured ceremoniously yet with an air of joy
As colours are mixed upon the plate
To paint
A baby boy
Each shade and light I know so well now
As the lines on my left palm
I hope to reproduce his smile
With the very same
Gentle charm
I don't even know his name yet
But I know the phthalo blue which rest as his eyes
As gentle little halos though so young
Appear
Strikingly
Wise
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Death of a Tear......
The fresh tear, heavy with meaning and purpose
Travels southbound upon my warm skin.
Full of reason and pain, I watch
Distracted by it's beauty
Questioning its lifespan as I do the life in my love
First it rushes with gusto, confidence
Only to slow eventually at an undefined moment
For no real reason, with no apparent explanation
(as in my love) It petered to a dribble
And unaware of it's poignance
It died......
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Memory Foam..... Peace in a Bottle..... adultish
At last....
Held embryonic pose
No pause for thought just
Sleeping rose
Attached
Recharged
Tranquil are the pulses which usually fight
Tender movement
Scent
Desire
Plight
Warmth seeps through bleary eyed mist
As pillows and arms swaddle...... bliss
At last....
Peace whispers
Tis safe to rest my weary head
Pon your
Missed shoulder
[...] Read more
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Not Religious....Sorry......
I love trying to write
I love my poetic friends
I love my children
My pet guinea-pigs, Keith and Dandelion
Green tea
And any coloured vegetable (cause i have too)
My man
My new flowery wellies
The bees that scare me to run
Saturdays throng
Sundays silence
What i do not love is being lectured continually about religion
I loved god and lost my sister
Thats (my truth) and Im sorry
We are all cut from a different cloth (and mine frayed)
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Eagles Breath....
The eagle smiles sharply
Smartly
He knows my need of gently stroked wings
Amidst shift shaping rocks
I am barely a translucent bubble
Blown through a Childs hoop
Wavering and lost in just one
Solitary breath
He may pierce me with his arrogant beak
May find me invisible within herringbone clouds
Yet still
I exist
I am here, I am her
I know that to be true
Due to
A pulse, due to a whimsical thought
And an ever hopeful will...
poem by Karen Sinclair
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