Category: poems

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Growing Pains

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I think we go through life choosing the easy way,

Remaining well within our comfort zone of

Just enough and not too much.

And, really, don’t we have enough on our plates

Without worrying about moral obligations.

We fit ourselves snugly into patterns and routines –

A shell to shield us from unpleasant confrontation.

But every now and then that shield will crack and

In a great upheaval my soul will stretch and grow,

Burst forth like a volcano hot and raw.

 

Last night, through pain and much discomfort,

My soul outgrew its shell and I’ve been standing

Very still to wait, to catch my breath and to expand,

To catch up and contain again what you

With brutal honesty a bitter truth revealing,

Have questioned, battled, then implored.

That better part of me which you have called upon

And so has come to know a greater way of being.

Without a shell but with a veil of thankfulness and gratitude,

A blessing on your own sweet self.

 

© jsmorgane (July 2014)

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Sonata in C Major

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I know a girl –

I don’t pretend to know her well –

But something in the way

She talks to you and me

Reminds me of a piece of music…

… Mozart on the piano.

 

Right hand fluidly flitting

Over the keys, a happy little tune.

Contained, well-structured, perfectly timed.

Left hand introducing a deeper theme,

The smallest finger tracing a line –

C#, d, b, a, g, f#, b, g, a, g…

 

Both hands in treble clef but

Slowly showing a darker meaning,

A different story hidden

Amongst the cheerful notes.

 

That’s how she is – fun and easy,

And all so well laid out,

The clothes, the smiles, the city trips,

The babysitter organised.

For pick-up the family-friendly limousine,

The carefree wave of hand ‘Goodbye!’

 

Yet we all know

Who sits behind the wheel,

And Mozart’s music starts to play

Each time her lover’s name finds mention

In light-hearted conversation about hats

And this year’s Season.

 

The minor variation in the Andante –

Heart-rending and beautiful,

Like her artistry, pretty and bright

And gone smoky at the edges.

Like Mozart’s sonata a masterpiece.

 

When I play it on a long, warm

Summer’s evening,

I step into her half-divined,

Half-imagined life and marvel at

Two works of art, wondering if

I can trace the one –

Like my fingers do the other –

To an ending in a major key…

 

© jsmorgane (May 2014)

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Spring equinox in my back garden

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In the middle of my back garden
Blooms the magnolia, riotous at the moment.
Birds flock to it, so many different kinds.
Tits love it best, Great tit and Blue tit,
All happily hopping up and down the branches.
Between the magnolia’s roots the soil is soft and moist
And amidst the creamy petals are the blackbirds,
Sending Robin flying to join the greenfinch higher up.
The woodpecker only rests awhile,
Preferring my neighbour’s poplar tree
From where he adds rhythm to the cacophony of sound.
The stock doves – a couple – doze amongst the buds,
Eyes half-closed in the sunlight.
The wren – so small I almost miss her –
Looks like she could snuggle up
In one of the large open buds for a slumber.
The magpie, surely it is always the same one,
Does not cause a disturbance but stays in the pine tree,
Obviously displeased with this merry gathering.
The jay, rare visitor, streaks through the garden
With a warning cry: all hush up as the crow flies overhead.
But on a day like this he stays high up,
Glistening while swirling in the bright skies and
Throws no shadow on the tree and the birds it shelters.

©jsmorgane (March 2014)