A visual response to narcissism on the internet
by Gail
Psychology
Sad Insanity
the eye remembers
bright shadows of dying suns
invisible light
*
wild spring lust faded
satiated summer sleep
restless autumn dreams
*
there will be winter
endless overwhelming night
inevitable
*
knowledge of the tides
may save the soul from drowning
sad insanity
*
by Gail
My Book Of Short Stories
Here is the link to my book of short stories, published today on Amazon for Kindle. You can download a free Kindle app if you do not have a device. Some of you will have read my work but there is some new material here. I hope that you will enjoy this mix of humour, psychology, art, spirituality and local interest. The book is dedicated to my writing friend, Karen North, to Devizes, and to anyone with whom I have ever shared love, humour, understanding or joy. You know who you are. Please share, buy, read, review and recommend. And finally, I love books and Devizes Books, and intend to keep supporting my local bookshop. Thank you for your interest in my work.
Brutal Truth
Should we view images of death and evil in the media?
*
Brutal truth; how dare you burn our eyes
How dare you mark our quiet hearts with pain
Our gentle ears are deafened with your cries
Our worlds will never be the same again
Brutal truth; without you we deny
Ourselves, our fear, the part we have to play
So shine your fierce searchlight from the sky
Force in to form the shadows of the day
Brutal truth; unchain our memory
And rend the veil that shrouds a lie from sight
The evolution of humanity
Is in your hands; stir us to flight or fight
To know ourselves and know our enemy
Shifting deserts, oceans flowing free
*
by Gail
Green Men
On the Green Men who are carved in stone at the church
of St. John the Baptist, Devizes…
The Unbearable Brightness of Beauty
*
Beauty, your colours
Wash the eye with paint and pain
In rainbow prisms
*
Beauty, your music
Astounds the ear to silence
In cadenced rhythm
*
Beauty, your raw touch
Stirs the flesh to birth and death
In passion driven
*
Beauty, your deep scent
Calls forth sudden memory
In flash unbidden
*
Beauty, your rich taste
Licks the tongue to wild delight
In manna given
*
Beauty, your glory
Ripples water, shatters stones
In revelation
*
by Gail
Psychopomps
a tanka
*
in the eye’s corner
fluttering in photographs
psychopomps gather
watching for the autumn’s fall
listening to poetry
*
by Gail
Feathered Air
If flame there was ‘tis gone, all passion spent
Men long dead or demented tell no lies
No track or trace remains of where they went
Of whether they were wicked or unwise
If scent there was ‘tis blown, in feathered air
Decaying roses, lilies, ashes, mould
Unburied memories of who was there
A whisper on the wind, a rumour told
If blame there was ‘twas ours, for being blind
For keeping silent doubt for all these years
In tangled groves the truth is hard to find
As unmarked mad men’s graves; weep hopeless tears
For smoke there is, all round us like a cloud,
Obscuring the light of fire from the crowd
by Gail
Empathieves
my first sonnet…
Are empaths thieves, of feelings not their own?
Like magpies stealing precious shining rings,
They see the pain by strangers’ faces shown
And understand our secret hidden things
Our tears run down their faces, our delight
May swell their hearts with love or blood or pride,
Fond friends, or someone lonely in the night
Who saw us on the telly and who cried
Unwitting thieves perhaps, but nonetheless
Possessed of power to bless or else to curse,
They know our soul while others merely guess,
May mean well and may love us much; far worse
The psychopath, who sees us without feeling,
Devoid of empathy, beyond all healing
***
by Gail
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