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Clair

                                                 Clair

 

 

 

            I have seen them in the past,

Then again, in the future!

Their form takes on the knowing we are

And yet, their passing never stops the longing

To see them more.

 

 

Disease, or illness or age takes loved ones every day,

And before disfigurement makes mockery

Of the beauty that ‘we’ are,

I am begging questions of the architects

That still remain unanswered; – dropping

To an unforgiving floor.

 

 

I am staring at this floor now,

And caught upon the periphery of vision,

I see the tears of others stained upon the concrete;

And I step aside and let the tears blossom

Into flowers within the imaginations of my heart;

Not wanting ignorance of death,

To instil a sense of loss.

 

 

            We all share lives whether it is liked or not,

We are all in essence communication beings,

But as the moon sits blue this night,

I cannot help the feeling that we never truly

Know each other,

And I yearn to turn back clocks to days

When life is took for granted in all innocence,

And we sway the rhythm of night and day,

Sun and moon, dawn and dusk.

 

 

My heart remains heavy despite the fluttering of memory,

And my tears join the throngs of others,

To be washed by rain concealing acid like

The bitterness I find upon my tongue,

And I try my best, to negotiate the taking

Of another life that still, remains in bloom,

And the answer,

And the answer,

Is caught within my sorrow,

As I search each face for Clair,

Time itself just but a borrow,

Just a girl,

Just a girl,

Just a girl!

 

 

Dedicated to my cousin!

 

 

Michael J Waite 0310hrs 25th April 2010.

◄ Al Jabayl

Our Child ►

Comments

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Francine

Sun 25th Apr 2010 17:27

You express the sadness with such sensitivity and truth in this Mike...

'I see the tears of others stained upon the concrete;
And I step aside and let the tears blossom
Into flowers within the imaginations of my heart'

'But as the moon sits blue this night,
I cannot help the feeling that we never truly
Know each other'

'My heart remains heavy despite the fluttering of memory,
And my tears join the throngs of others,
To be washed by rain concealing acid like
The bitterness I find upon my tongue'

Pete Crompton

Sun 25th Apr 2010 10:17

"before disfigurement makes mockery

Of the beauty that ‘we’ are,

I am begging questions of the architects

That still remain unanswered; – dropping

To an unforgiving floor"

my fave part.
the architects of life is an exciting metaphor. Gods and Architects, this faulty design Mike, but why faulty, why weeds take hold in pavement cracks and not pretty flowers? Perhaps they do and we cant see them. This imperfect nature. Cruelty and beauty sit side by side

always a pain in your writing and always a catharsis for me

thanks

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