karen sinclair Poems

The fresh tear, heavy with meaning and purpose
Travels southbound upon my warm skin.
Full of reason and pain, I watch
Distracted by it's beauty
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The small brown nightingale sings
From left bough of an insignificant tree
He brings not much
Just love and a touch
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Huddled within a blanket
In a camping chair
Thats not quite right
Blinds down to shade the sleeping
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I am a swathe of salted tears
Spread thin upon brown earth
Doused throughout lost years
Querying all I'm worth
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When blackened skies shroud
Purple thoughts are thrust
As sprinkles of glitter dust
Up through the atmospheric pressure
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The waves were subtle
As you led me in
Half moon
Full moon
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Lay me
Amongst the melody that is Mozart
Weave his notes in my lank dark hair
Spirit me to a world of horses
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If I sat within the downy heather of the beauteous bogland
That is Mnt Clanard
Southern Ireland
Beneath a birch... beside a stream
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I met her one blurry New Years eve
She who would hang as a glorious ornament, from your sleeve
Back in those times of hours, no sand
I can picture her (now grasping) your lovely hand
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Headlouse dance as agile ballerinas across a small childs skull
And believe the truth as im only good at that
I havent seen one for a while
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