1
Sometimes the mind becomes a dragonfly,
brushing against the petals of a water lily,
while a heron stands on one leg, lost in meditation.
2
Over the fence of the jasmine garden,
night-flowering jasmine falls into my courtyard,
softly, drop by drop.
3
A butterfly has slipped into the weaver's room,
and suddenly
the whole place flashes with colour.
4
A city morning. Along the asphalt road,
here and there,
water snails have crawled out of the drains.
5
Beside the cremation ground
where my father and mother were laid to rest,
a periwinkle stands laden with flowers.
6
Upon the face
of a gravestone
rests a red dragonfly.
7
On the fallen trunk
of an uprooted tree,
new leaves gather the morning sun.
8
In the middle of the fields, a shrine to Manasa;
beside the Brahmin priest,
a motorcycle.
9
A Poush night. The northerly wind cuts through.
People in distress light a fire with scraps of wood,
trying to chase away the cold.
10
In the month of Chaitra,
drumstick pods hang from the branches,
like the sticks of a dhak.
A massive iron cage, brick,
sand and cement, rising
to become a home of human happiness
Hail, hail, concrete father
Hail, hail, the high-rise
A nest for human dreams
Those who are building
my house, I wonder,
where is their home
I have arranged it beneath the clouds,
a canopy of rain, would someone
come to be the bride and groom
A night by the swimming pool
beneath the water, blue
lights
A round of bickering first thing in the morning,
then all day long, thinking
about married life
At the very top of a secluded balcony
blooming
dahlias and chrysanthemums
Caught
in a spider's web
a shiuli flower
Tom and Jerry
Popeye the Sailor
ha ha ha
Tender hands
the racing wishes
of coloured pencils
There is love
There is no love
Love
In another life
perhaps, yellow
wildflowers
A cat and a pigeon
in between
me
It rained in the afternoon
the evening
feels beautiful
A gopuram
magnificent
the Dravidian land
Fallen leaves, fallen feathers,
their new moons
and full moons
The day drifts away
there is no shore
nor is there a boat
I sold my brother's coin collection for a fix/
Police and thieves/
Coke n smack, synth riffs and puffs
Jack McDuff, Sure ’Nuff ’n funk for you/
My life is on freeze, please don't tease
Pop the beat, heroin junkies down the street
Hookers trickin' where we used to meet/
Jazz horn and the abstract truth
The cross is afraid of women's rights/
Stay on the fight, the truth is right
Lo-fi delights while eating shrooms/
Mojave Desert eagle walk
While wearing peyote buttons round my neck
As we talked, a raven's feather flew in her hair
She was high on acid and said
I looked like a shaman dancing with a bear/
A collection of ‘Love is…’ Poetry - Canoe
Love is a Wow! Moment.
Love is only for the chosen.
Love is a Godsend.
I want a love which never ends.
(C)2026 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Audrey,s collection
Audrey,s is a woman that gives me regret
She wants to own me but I am a man who will endeavour yet
She covers me with kisses and we only just really met
She wears clothes out of marks and spencers garbage bin no debt
She wants what she wants and together we do well to forget
She lives in a penthouse in blackpool over looking the beach to set
She is so special I wonder what Ivwould have done if we never did collect
She is the master of human emotion of which I do beset
She lives inside my mind almost every moment she knows me best as I kiss her she has to emotionally wet
She is my woman and I don,t care whether she uses me as her next pet.
Who do you think you are?
Runnin' 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
Tearing love apart…
~ Christina Perri
Yesterday arrives
as sure as the clock
ticks off the seconds
as sure as tomorrow
will become today
and you leave me
just another broken heart
added
to your
collection!
we sit on the what knot shelf
thinking we are all that the first week
feeling the woman’s excitement in finding us
But week after week goes by
the glass doors open and she pushes in new finds
thimbles, bells, miniatures, marbles,
most of us have not been taken out since day one
when she was excited to purchase us
Two Dollar Bills Gift Sweet- Heart
You slipped some softly into my hand
a gesture few would understand &
no roses red, no diamond thrill—
just my tender gift of a two-dollar bills
its paper kissed by time’s sweet grace,
a promise folded, kept in place...
you said, “It’s rare, like hearts that meet”
an mine forgot how to keep its beat.
we spent no money, yet we gained...
a memory love itself had framed
that simple note, its quiet gleam
now guards these corners of my dream
Dedicated to my nurse, Miss Laura
I am reflective of the Collective,
Choosing to be more effective,
Selective of my thoughts.
Rising from being distraught,
Taught to believe I was small,
I find I'm creating it all.
Breaking down wall after wall,
I fall into my destiny,
The best of me waiting to be seen.
Getting between my patterns,
Splattering old pieces of me,
Seeping into creases secretly,
Knowing what I came to be.
Sitting in silence I wait,
In an enlightened state,
I wipe the slate clean,
Changing my fate.
Straight from the source,
Replotting the course,
Jotting words of force,
To help enforce my directive.
Spreading through the collective,
Love is the true objective,
Be protective of thoughts you choose.
Using the power like a tool,
The fuel to help you cruise,
Into many different views.
I am a reflection of you,
Choosing love to make it through,
A collection of reflections of me too.
How long? Before he is 'completley gone?'
An accident? Removes the princ-iple..For
The ripples are rolling.' Many are moved.'
Under real complexity..Who can they loose?
Whats affordable.? Who would stand in those
Shoes.? Billions can't buy decency once so much
Is blued..' SIns of scarlet; golden lies, twelve
Million pounds, and suspect alubis..When will
The neck break.? Or that odd shot come? Maybe
A robbery.? What will be told.? Of whats not
Been done.?
Do you know where you are going to?
Can you fully know what you want to do?
Are you feeling lost, lonely and oh so blue.
It too shall pass,
These lonely days won't last.
Okay so it didn't work out
All cause all you ever
Really wanted to was
To scream and shout
At each other.
Why not let bygones be bygones?
You can go your own separate
Ways!
What you call love?
Isn't really true love.
he collected all his hopes, dreams and wishes
hid them under floorboards of his room
letting them all rest in darkness
while burning in fire that comes from loss
he collected everything he had in himself
every star that was showed him
and when nights begin to bleed memories
they all rose back like ghosts in the fog
he collected every last bit of innocence
it was no longer the way to live
he must abandon the house he lives in
in order to fight something that isn't his
he told his child version to stay quiet
listen the voice through the cracks
silent all the voices from under floorboards
and rest in peace if he can't run away
The first Wednesday of the month
we sit around the table and share
poems written with care and revised.
We take in their shapes and forms
and read between the lines.
We gasp with wonder about creations
and search for other words
to make each verse stronger.
Each of us has written volumes by now
the lives we shared month-by-month.
A retired lawyer has returned
from his vacation in Spain
and I’m back from four years
of traveling through the Midwest for work.
The sights shape nuances of our pieces.
Each of us takes the time allowed to read
and get feedback but time slips from our fingers.
At eight PM, the library closes.
Our conversations continue in the hallways
and as we move toward the stairs.
I take in the sight of paintings and stop
when I see the shadow of the group’s founder
on the wall. She nods at me.
To preserve, in words, what is on the verge of ceasing to be heart,
To transfer, onto paper, what is on the verge of ceasing to be words,
If one seeks reasons to write poetry, countless can be found from here.
To entrust to the book what is on the verge of ceasing to be me.
balsam scented room
candelabra glowing red ~
festive spectacle
red bubble tree lights
dance amongst silver tinsel~
an old-fashioned flare
laughter and chatter
warm the home with joyful cheer~
holiday party
sweet savory scents
inviting holiday feast~
edible presents
diamond ring surprise
an enchanting engagement~
holiday magic
newborn in velvet
cradled by his grandmother~
celebrated life
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