Cyclopsee

Category: Poetry

The Winds Have A Mind Of Their Own

The winds are howling
The Stars have hurried home, scared.
Tonight doesn’t seem like
They can do their own thing.

The night is wild,
The calm is gone.
Life has not much choice
At its face stares Chaos.

The moon peeps, takes a look.
Then the clouds shroud it,
in a pale veneer of love
And the winds kiss it.

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L.G. May 2016

‘Tis a Summer of Hope & Longing

Spring is long gone. Summer is (almost) here.

The ceiling fan creaks.

The heat is oppressive.

The AC has its mood swings, like it does every year.

It’s passive-aggressive.

Like pretty much every other thing in my life.

But this summer, I know better.

I won’t crib. No. I won’t

I have made peace.

I will look inside.

I will be a shrink’s delight.

I will embrace poetry.

I will recite Neruda in my head.

I will recall Frida K’s lovers in sequence.

I will think of Liz Taylor and her husbands, not in a row.

I will think of the random, and the real.

L.G.

April 13, 2016

Broken Love & bone-China plates

Sometimes we fight, sometimes we don’t
But that’s the code of lovers
Across boundaries and countries
And naturally, as is wont.

Sometimes it’s cheerful when you are there
There is hope in your laughter
Love in the afternoon air
And mirth in the banter.

Sometimes we fight,
For OUR love that is now a right.

Sometimes I cry and cry and cry
Over broken promises, jilted dates
And there is some angst
That meets its fate in bone-China plates.

Oh and when,
Did our love get so trivialised,
And so domesticated
And much shackled?

I was the hope,
You were the dream
Together we were a team
Of love unknown and lovers unseen.

Mad Girl’s Love Song

It was Sylvia Plath’s birthday on Monday.

Her poems haunt me – time and again – they have healed and hurt me, at different times.

Memories. Broken glass. Numb heart. Unspoken words.

And this is a beautiful song version of the “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Carol Anne McGowan.

Goosebumps.

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