Iron blood
the air smelt
welling up
from the
red, red leaves
strewn across
like a carmine gash
of rotting foliage,
still dripping
from the arms
of skeleton
limbs and
branches black -
Fluttering
red flames
of vegetation
fall,
their dying
embers coagulating
across the
clammy cold
breast of earth.
© Eleanor Clark
19 November, 2014
I'm not sure
if this door
is the ending
to a beginning
that never was -
or perhaps
it lies on a path
marked out by
choice yet unmade
and the conversation
that has yet
to happen
It could end
in silence
and rending
heart-stopping
moment, or be
a sunrise to
something more.
No soothsayer
dreamcatcher
fortune teller
am I - but still
in hope, I wait
to see if this door
marks the beginning
that always was
and an ending
that was never
meant to be.
© Eleanor Clark
17 November, 2014
Life is so strange
sometimes
In moments
where we wonder
if our regrets
are real -
imagined in
meditated moments
caught
between wondering
if the outcome
would be
the same
If I had held
your hand a moment
longer would
we be we
and not
you
I
separate
struggling
through the
mired steps
of winter
bare against the
sky
slick with
forgotten dreams
and
fragmented whispers.
© Eleanor Clark
11 November, 2014
