White Space

A place of silence,
          white space
at page edge,
          bearing witness
to the absence
          of words.

A place to pause,
          rest,
to think.

A place,
          like the white space
between lines of prose,
          where eye and mind
can pause and rest.

Bewildering
          the pounding
of earwig music,
          the advert repeated

again and again,
          the omnipresent
sound byte.

Everlasting,
          the loop, the loop,
the interminable loop
          that intrudes on
silence.

Words

Words emerge
          from the silence
of blood and bone.

They break
          that silence
the day they are born.

Silence,
          once broken,
cannot be repaired.

A word once spoken
          cannot be recalled.

The greatest gift –
           knowing how to be alone,
how to sink into silence.

A world of words
          smothered at birth
and that world,
          dismissed, forgotten,
sometimes still-born.

A lost world of words
          whirled on the silent wind
that fans the unborn fire within.

The spider web of the mind
          blown clear by the wind
that blows unspoken words.

The hush of the tadpole
          swimming
into its own metamorphosis.

The sultry oblivion
          of blood and bone.

Poetry that expresses the authenticity of being. Playful, yes, but packed with meaning. Taste it on the tongue. Savor it in the mind. Touch the words on the page. Indulge yourself in the white spaces between the words. Read and re-read each poem. Dive into its depths. Swim – but do not let yourself drown. When you surface again, return to the light and remember, all will be well.