season’s shift
thoughts drift
caught in the blurring
of time
thoughts
-
Sands
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Footprints
idled by the river watching the trees shiver
warm scent of red dust drifting from the road ahead
I turn the wheel with confident hands
heated thoughts subsiding into time’s flow
the summer breeze lifts my hair cooling my mind
lungs filled with memories of childhood
echoes of others’ memories sifting through me
heated thoughts recede
I bask content in a million moments distilled
listening to the clocks in my mother’s kitchen
warm scent of red dust drifts from the road ahead -
Drifting thoughts from the coffee shop’s balcony
The road carries the hum of recent rain today. A populace quietly going about its business, rubber rolling on damp bitumen, a gentle tide washing in and out.
A few days ago the sun was hot, stinging the skin. Today, passing snippets of conversation speak of the cold, whilst tucking hoods close on the backs of their necks. A liminal day. The present, the ‘now’, hanging loosely between past and future, hovering before ‘next’.
Days like this, my identity shifts and slips with the weather. The self I have been is grieving. I cannot quite hear the self I will become. But the light drifting in and out from behind the clouds reminds me she is waiting.
-
senryu 7
gentle whispers
caress a quiet ripple
ever outwards -
Parking Ticket
Does freedom live
in the sunset
beyond the next turn?
Where phones
fall silent
Signposts read
‘Welcome’
the clock breathes
slowly
and smiles
-
Poetry Resides
the taste of a word
on your tongue,
lingering
with the scent
of old memories,
spice-laden flavours
of your heart
laid down
in the precarious grey
depths, waiting,
synapses sleeping
occasional fluttering
spark
cherished
those inner vessels
in which we store,
distill
essence of remembered
time
and self
aged like fine wine
or mouldy cheese
breathing in
the scent of it,
breathing out
vivid in ink
anne.seebach.poetry 