Silhouettes

Image

These long summer days
wait by drowsy trees,
an empty lane, a signpost
which points towards low clouds
and a livid purple sky.

I can’t breathe
while the storm vibrates this way –
a sky on fire,
shapes and silhouettes
in the lightning flash,
shadows beating against the rain.

Then a sudden break in the clouds –
a swallow dips and dives, spins
a pirouette –
and a heart which feels so light
you think it must belong to someone else.
So much lost. So much yet to gain.

 

 

@Louise Hastings 2014

Lost in Blue

A-Break-in-the-Clouds1

That moment of waking,
deserted streets, a pale
washed out sky, a woman
out alone, her footsteps tip tapping
along the bridge, a rushing
whoosh, a train thundering by
and a town like any other,
the dawn opaque, the woman, me.

The wind blows colder
and she isn’t lost, just half-dreaming
as morning shadows
fall across the kerbs and side streets –
a gust of wind, a bird taking flight,
then a break in the clouds. sunlight on glass
and the night forgotten,
the backdrop timed to her pulse.

 

 

©2013 Louise Hastings

Listening

The Perseid meteor shower is sparked every August when the Earth passes through a stream of space debris left by comet Swift-Tuttle. (Photo: Darren Wood/Twitter)

The Perseid meteor shower is sparked every August when the Earth passes through a stream of space debris left by comet Swift-Tuttle. (Photo: Darren Wood/Twitter)

i.
Summer is passing
and I wonder
where all the voices go,
the ones that never end
rising in a cacophony
of noise, spit and dust.
Would they stop
if they could hear her wild lament
before the darkness closes in?

ii.
They line up along the street
to protest their unfair fate
while in the road the vans
announce their message: “GO HOME”
and all I see is mess and black austerity,
blood and hate, but what do I know?
Only that I wished upon a falling star tonight.

iii.
And they will predict their rainfall,
declare their wars, but we can
turn their lies into truth,
and when the world turns violent
I can think of brightness, the beyond
and always my love for you.

 

 

©2013 Louise Hastings

Somewhere Out There

Dream girl

Dream girl (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

In the pre-dawn gloomy light
voices on the morning breeze
guide me beyond the door
and down the narrow slope, past
the crowded houses, the cat
sitting with nonchalance in the road.
It turns and stares with yellow
unblinking eyes, as if to say
this road leads to somewhere,

but somewhere isn’t marked on any map
so I end up where I was before,
before all this: the waking dreams, the whys
and wherefores, the catch in the throat.
But up ahead a path leads to a lane,
the lane to a field where a sliver
of a promise drifts along the river’s
slide through the splash of green.

And this is where I find myself,
sun off the surface, feet cooling
in the gentle stream, with no thought
of purpose, no right or wrong – soon enough
the rain turns cold, the light grows thin.

©2013 Louise Hastings