Empty Pockets

Little by little we glide

on words unsaid,

inhale the air of Indian summer,

nudge our toes towards desire,

leafy, languid heat.

In the stillness

beyond the golden haze,

the verdant greens

and cyan sky

sparkle by the riverside.

My breath,

the gentle zephyr breeze,

my pockets, empty, light.


© 2012 Louise Hastings


One Summer (in England)

Copyright: James Rainsford, Used with Permission

A sudden rainbow across heavy skies
brings rare sunshine and fleeting light on water.
I throw off the winter cold and bare pale skin
to the sun, paint myself anew with colours
fresh and bright. The days go by
like a smile on an empty face
and I ripen in the sunshine
beneath an oozing, soft green light,
tangling serotonin in my hair,
lemon-blossom from the meadow at my feet.
But a shadow drags behind me
whenever the weather breaks.
Steady rain lashes at the window,
splashes city parks and dead end streets,
trickles down my neck and pools around my wrists.
As the darkness spreads there’s not much of me left.
I run towards the fragile, summer sun.



©2012 Louise Hastings

Written for the wonderful prompt at dVersepoets Poetics ~ Patterns, Pictures and Poems hosted by James Rainsford


Flashing colour of a bird,
as blue it seems
as the azure sky of the summer.

The last summer,
where I saw you before
languidly sleeping.

One more day
the last day so blue,
blue as the river

Dreamily, I watch
He lives in me, to die
Love, I see you

So blue.