In a Garden Without Shade

My wings will wait 

in a garden 

without shade  

feathers bowed 

in the heat,

Fine hairs 

carelessly thread 

droplets of sweat gleam 

under a summer sun  

The weight of the garden bed 

and Rose bush spike, 

Jupiter scents the air 

to caress tired eyes 

In this paradise 

Built for one

little wings 

Untie 

Spread

two souls

take flight.
J.Calvert 2017

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Whiskey Glass

woodman

Photo by Frances Livings

The dewy kiss of morning light,
shines upon our wallpaper
water stains
crease the lines
and bare our pain
lipstick marks the mirror,
crimson curled
floral and mould weave
an asymmetrical pattern
breathing life into where we dwell

walls2

Photo by Francesca Woodman

We’re the sawed off pieces of vintage
lace blowing against the window frame
The rotting leg, of a Victorian chase
mercury glass hangs –
the ceiling; a cold damp place,
with a tobacco stench

You, sit in silence
with a comb through your hair,
like an willow branch bowed at the waist
once an oriental lily,
now a bud cut from a stem

I, sit in silence
with a whiskey glass in my hand,
fingers blanched
Blank and vacant decadence
a childlike glance

We can’t recollect
a time before this,
Our withered bones and shredded skin
glisten in the sun
breeding
an unfortunate tale
one of stagnant drench.

@ J.CALVERT 2017

When I wrote this, I had a clear picture in my head, of a beautiful women fading-vacant and a man with a whiskey glass in hand. A time of depression, where the bottle took over their lives. Not sure where this poem came from, but it was written. Funny how the writers mind works.

Do you often read your work back and think where did this come from?

Heavy Hearts

My heart weighs heavy, under these densely-packed fronds.
J.Calvert 2017 

Images: Pinterest 

Little Pieces 

My heart a million little pieces reflecting light, illuminated under the stars tonight. 

Words J.Calvert 2017 

Image: Pinterest edited