Wednesday, April 5, 2017



When you came,
airdancer mine,
I didn't know you.
In fact

I never knew you
til you'd gone on,
bending as I was
over endless unplanted earth

lifecrumbs scattered everywhere
scittering across waiting ground,
bricks of every color
walling me round.

I only caught 
a swirl of exploding atoms
watched you and your birds receding
tapdancing on wind.

That was when
I claimed you as

 you promised nothing,
you gave like a bramble
sweet in the thorn

so I could eat
that random life 
you carried,
ripened in killing frost.

~April 2017

Image: Landscape with Birds, 1940, ©Lucian Freud  Fair use via


  1. you promised nothing,
    you gave like a bramble
    sweet in the thorn

    love those lines. if no promise is given, no promise can be broken.
    we have no desire to hold the wind either, or call it ours.
    only appreciate it in the moment that we have with it.

    maybe i am way off because i am completely out of practice,
    but i know how to appreciate what is good.


  2. "tapdancing on wind" is fantastic.

  3. Marvelous wonder woven here. A breeze of something remembered.

  4. Brian shows up! wow! he picked the same lines as I. Odd, as only yesterday (today?) I clicked over to Waystation 1 (still shows on some people's blogs) and it led nowhere.

    again, your close is killer. twice, even. ~

    1. I know, I pulled it(WS One) awhile back because it was removed--he's likely archived it--at least I hope so with all his unique poetry--as I have done a few times when I was sick and tired of blogging and bloggers, stalkers and random nuts. It was good to see him come by and now he's okay--I wonder if he is still in Nepal, or somewhere.

      Anyway, thanks for the kind words, M. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up, but am enjoying it so far. I think #6 will just go on Facebook--it's simpler, and it's a very simple poem. ;_)

  5. Wonderful harmonics in this leading from the title -- and the conclusion which is suggested is known because gone. I encounter dead poets this way, but there are all sorts of melodies left trailing on the wind.

    1. Yes, love and poetry are often encountered waltzing with matilda on the wind for all they're worth. ;_) Thanks, B.

  6. A beautiful interpretation of the image, each complimenting each other. I too would choose Brian's choice as the loveliest lines.

    Kind regards
    Anna :o]

  7. "I could eat that random life you carried"

    I am struck all of a sudden that this is the only way we are nourished. life comes at us in random instances or circumstances we do not control. Same as them that use the breeze and thermals. The non random, the expected those can define what we call "times" be they good or bad.

    As ever Joy.



"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats