Reflecting

You
I wonder what
you
do
on the
other side
of the gate.
You
I see
you
too
wondering what I
do…
on the
other side
of the gate.
highland moo coo

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Six Word Saturday – Herald

From Winter storm debris – Spring trumpets…?20140301_162305 (2)

How deceptive are the Waves

How deceptively the waves slide up the shore.

Indecisively they lap and retreat,

Ebb and flow…

With almost an innocent whistle they show

No hint of the storm-lashed coastline of the

Day before…

And the day after. But wait! Seaweed lies

Strewn across the esplanade, and see the

Smashed jetty;

Torn asunder by a furious howling

Banshee – which, once again, visits our shores

This dark night…

How deceptive the waves

Sun Day

I attempt to get a calmer outlook on life by putting on my new yoga DVD.  A few downward dogs and cobras later, I attempt a wobbly tree pose and feel ready to say “Hi” to the Sun. I am feeling rejuvenated and ready to start my day – ok it is 2pm and my day actually started quite a few hours earlier but I had to get other things out of the way first like the washing and shopping and getting my roots done didn’t I? Oh and did I mention that I am on a fast day and need to keep my mind off what’s in the fridge?

I get a call from a friend and go for a walk along the beach.  I don’t know if it’s the lack of food but I see yoga poses in the sky…

hallucinating

Mirrored

Mirror

26.12.13
Between here and there is where
You’ll find me.
Half within this world and half in
Somewhere else.
I hover above the surface ripples,
Below the air currents that show
Hope of tomorrow.
I lie between reality and reflection –
Where it really doesn’t matter which is which.
I am today, tomorrow and yesterday.
I am what is, what was and what could be.
Set me free.

Walk, run, skip,walk, run, skip…

Power-walking

She strides.

Surprisingly fast pace

For such short legs.

Puffing…

A watery playground

In the lazy dazzle

of a hazy autumnal sun,

 I watch the sea leap and dance,

 the waves a turbulent mass

of energy unleashed.

A jet skier climbs and cuts a swathe

Through the terre verte of this playground’s mighty swell.

All that‘s left of the lone windsurfer

glimpsed far out to sea earlier

is the Milk Tray Man sloshing with seal-like

wetsuit there across the car park –

 the wind  hastening him to his car.

A few bedraggled and windswept dog-walkers

look, with me, seawards across the sands.

Sands which are now bereft

of their tourist adornments.

I prefer them just plainly

beautiful.

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