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Doors, by Eric Smith

17/7/2016

Lock and unlock them
To hide or escape
To explore the next adventure
Disappearing in the distance

Reach for a light coming in
Leave holding a torch
Will you be bitten?
Lose an eye or a toe?

As you leave does someone follow?
Does someone wait inside?
Have you planned for good or ill?
Or is this thoughtless, without expectations?

Have you changed those locks?
How recently and well?
Do you dwell on what your passage means?
And how long until you pass again?

Do you bid someone enter?
What might they want?
Anything they or you
Can provide?

The Telling Of The Bees, by Amy Friedman

5/7/2016

Oh Bees,
I come carefully
Gingerly
My new mate beside me
Our arms and faces protected from the arrows of your stings
To tell of our astonished joy
To have found a love as rich and constant
As yours.
We come
Still dressed in our wedding garb
With a bit of cake,
Honeyed by your hive
So we may share with you the start of
Our life
With the sweetness you provide.
Oh Bees,
Pray, continue to be your industrious selves
Give your nectar, your honey
The goodness of your hive
And we will come, and tell to you,
Always.

Self-Portrait with Beret and Turned-Up Collar (Rembrandt 1659), by Ian Fletcher

2/7/2016

Your portrait provides testament to your words
that life etches itself onto our faces over time
and yours indeed is well-marked with lines
underscoring your eyes and furrowing your brow
with no smile to temper your plaintive stare
which speaks of worldly sorrows and cares
thus exposing your vulnerability to the ages
fixing future generations with a melancholy gaze
yet in doing so achieving a humble immortality
for it is certain that you will look on and on
long after this onlooker is dead and gone
offering to the living a brief communion
and a subdued moment of quiet reflection.

Doors, by Eric Smith

The Telling Of The Bees, by Amy Friedman

Self-Portrait with Beret and Turned-Up Collar (Rembrandt 1659), by Ian Fletcher

Poetry

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