Diamonds made of air,
Too precious to share,
Diamonds made by man,
Made only as scientists and dreamers can.

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she was always an enigma,

her hurts stayed in reserve,

a woman of terra incognita,

a rare mistress of swerve

its been ten years by now,

and I'm still in the dark,

tantalised out of my wits,

more blissful than a lark

for the years reveal layers

that take away my breath,

novel undug virgin strata

a world away from death

its living is her catchword,

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A diamond marked our betrothal

The gem sparkled bright on your finger

Then we sped to the chapel to wed

We no longer had any need to linger

Two sacred stones haunt my memories

The ring that you took to the grave

And the marble headstone above you

After that sad return to the chapel nave

Our marriage was short but blissful

We had no time even to think

About c...

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The moon comes at me 
through the trees, 
golden gleaming 
picking apart my seams. 

The sound it screams 
and the colour drowns me 
in my dreams, 
echoes low 
in twos and fours, 

infinity comes 
through open doors 
shaded in cloud, 
dim then alive 
so bright the shine. 

A diamond flickers 
five times.

©JMCole 

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This poem is a short affirmation and image of a small holiday island some eleven miles offshore from Fremantle, Western Australia. It began as a prison for aboriginal men and boys after 1838, and from 1902 served as a gubernatorial retreat from the intense summer heat. It is sear and dry, bereft of natural surface water, and now is a watery playground for fishers, boaters, surfers and many others....

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