Silhouettes

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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

Gravity

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The poem I start to write
wants to breathe
balanced
between the rhythm
of my heartbeats
and the fabric of the sky.

I rest my body in the space
left by these dissolving walls
and hear his voice
echo across the miles
like a kinesia of geese,
the vee
shaped by light and dark.

I am no analyst
of the night
but what might seem
so wingless
flies over oceans
and has a gravity all its own.

 

@Louise Hastings 2014

 

Lost in Blue

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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