poetry, word doodles and other writing stuff
Poems from the Scottish Islands
Wide skies
Wide horizons
An eagle hovers
Empty your mind let your thoughts move through
Normally I struggle
But
Here
I can’t hold on
To a thought
To a worry
To a contemplation
Clouds move over
Every changing
Like my relentless thoughts usually do
Occasionally the clouds become stuck
Hovering over the valley between the mountains
Like the thoughts I should let go
Eventually the wind moves them on
Seagull cruising
Like our kite
But more adept
Our kite crashes
As the wind pauses
The seagull just changes its course
I am watching the light of a head-torch
Like a will-o’-the-wisp bobbing above ground
My hopes are where this light is
Strong arms holding me
A giant caring loving heart
In a flawed man you say
We are all flawed I answer
The setting sun has painted pink highlights onto the clouds
As everything gets darker a bright dot on the horizon becomes more prominent
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
I count slowly
31 it is there again
The dot
A tiny sign of hope
A reminder you are not lost
No matter how far out you paddled
In this tiny boat of yours
You are anchored
In entirety
Nowhere is still somewhere
If this is where you are right now
Dolphins, eagles, seals, and the zombie
A holiday interrupted
By Nothingness
Zombie
Empty shell
Ran out of energy
Am vegetarian not eating brains
But eating life force of everyone I encounter
Must have the boy!
For my energy
Must cause pain!
For my pleasure
Must cause harm!
For my joy
Must cause grief
For my thrill
Must cause drama
For my entertainment
Zombie empty shell
Cannot feel but hate
Cannot feel but anger
Cannot feel but despise
Cannot feel but arousal
I won the battle
I got the boy
I showed them who’s in charge
I shoved two fingers and climaxed
In my victory
I know not
That I already lost the boy
I know not
Of his strength
I know not
Of his heart
I won’t understand his compassion
I won’t understand his love
I cannot love
I cannot feel empathy
I am a life lost
What else is bothering you
Other than that you cannot implement divine retribution
You asked me
But I was made for divine retribution
I held a fiery sword, and shield and wings so powerful they could slay
I crave justice
The hazy evening–a blue hues filter
In front of the mountains
The Atlantic bay I am sitting in
Pushes gentle waves ashore
The evening sun tries to break through the haze
I can feel spots of warmth on my skin
The vertical furrow between my eyes
Permanently edged in from squinting in the light
The evening settles in quietly
I see a house through the mist
You know; the kind of house children draw
Four windows
Door in the centre
Otherwise a rectangular box
With a roof
I wonder: is life in a simple house simple?
No fuss, no add-ons, no fancy ‘wouldn’t survive the winter-storms anyway’ conservatory
Two chimney stacks on each gable-end
The smell of burning wood
Warmth that cannot dispel the slight smell of dampness
If you think about it
A house
It’s that simple, four walls
A roof, some source of warmth, water
I am sitting underneath the canape of our tent
Four walls and a roof of sorts
But we forgot the little space heater
Also our temporary abode sways with the wind
Flaps its wings
It hums a song
I heard too often
‘You cannot escape your life choices.’
But for now things are simple
Poetry by Nathalie 