NaPoWriMo – 27/30

Have you ever just stopped and noticed that buzzing,

the constant bzzzz and eternal humming?

A network of insomniacs, the lights are always on

from New York to London, and even Taiwan.

I dream of that moment, the holy grail of silence

in the deepest darkest spot of the worlds remotest island

a place where the trees won’t rustle and the winds won’t whistle

where there is absolutely nothing, not even a thistle.

But I know in my heart it will never come true

because no matter where I go, no matter what I do

I will never find a moment of complete and utter peace

when my heart beats so fast, I can hear myself breathe

Even my exhales are noisy, as they pass on out

and the voice in my head just wants to shout

I can feel the thump of my temples against my hand

and the thud of my head when it decides to land.

Have you ever just stopped and noticed that buzzing,

the constant bzzzz and eternal humming?

There is no such thing as silence, not even peace

Just me and you, and you and me.

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NaPoWriMo – 25/30

The Huntsman’s name is Death,

his horses’ name is Time

they’re out to catch my breath

at the end of my line.

They wait in the shadows

they watch me at prayer

they blanket me in woe

they simply linger there.

Death and Time are good friends

they are the foes of man

every life they attend

every life they brand.

 

Inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle’s ‘The Huntsman’

NaPoWriMo – 24/30

There is no such thing as an easy road,

the land twists and turns at the weathers fight,

but high above where the long river flowed

pride and peace prevail at the sight.

She scrambled over the big jagged rocks,

and channeled Puffing Billy up the hill.

She pushed herself until she saw black dots

but nothing was stronger than her will.

For, when she arrived at the highest point,

she sat and surveyed the earths majesty.

Although, she had worn out her weary joints,

the journey was threaded in her life’s tapestry.

NaPoWriMo – 23/30

I wonder, how was this morning for you?

Can you remember the sights and the sounds?

It is in the moments we see the truth

a thought, while I stand upon frozen ground.

 

At 8, I watched the steam rise from my tea

At 9, I felt the breathe of Sunday morn

I walked, watching Winter begin its weave

the flowers stripped bare, revealing their thorns.

 

But, the flicker of hope remains in the sky

as the summer yellow turns to bright white

there is still beauty in things as they die

and nothing more beautiful then this sight.

 

So, the next time you step into Sunday

be grateful for the moment that makes May.

NaPoWriMo – 22/30

It’s 9am on a Saturday

fitbits and friends, lace up

there’s a purring koala next to me

and an adventurous little pup.

The tall eucalypts are singing us a song

as the birds harmonise

but this is our story

the tales of the creek

talking sunshine and flies.