Whispers from a golden sycamore,
it willingly dispenses green leaf secrets to us souls in autumn phase.
Branches creak but somehow never break despite the brittle onslaughts from an ever changing volatile environment.
Sagacious watchdogs for all seasons whose edges blur with every global warming or zero arctic plummet.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, surreal reckless slideshows... sideshows upon a wider world that’s scrambling to catchup.
Yet these stoic trees endure our wantoness so bravely,
the foiled attempts at damage limitation, those madcap retro schemes that flop like couch potatoes on a sofa.
Tall and proud they stand with stout forbearance.
Why not give your favorite tree a well-earned hug?
the weather, today
overcast, with a high chance
of riots and rain
dark clouds, gathering
tall towers and tipping points
enemies within
cities, simmering
angry hearts of righteous men
burning for justice
behind closed doors, committees
talk damage limitation
© Gail Foster 16th June 2017
Pavement cafe, nine fifteen cradling a coffee (as you do)
from my left the china doll with clicking heels strode into view.
Tempting lips kissy-kissed with crimson, cheeks caressed
with blush, and poreless,
painful teasing made those scimitars for eyebrows nigh on flawless.
Hair of sunlit copper billowed like an Eton teacher's gown,
open trench coat followed suit as china hurried into town.
Head turned sideways, in each shop window she looked at her reflection
checking for the slightest hint of any sort of imperfection.
So wrapped up in herself, my my, how deep self worship had bit you
that you didn't see the lamp post until suddenly it hit you-
walked straight into it with quite a clang at such a rapid pace
recoiled, lurched back, bewildered- it was then I saw her face.
The laughter from the passers-by just made it even worse
as, shaking, she sat down near me and fumbled in her purse.
Tearful now,still reeling from her public humiliation
she got the make-up mirror out for damage limitation.
Haughtiness gone, the facade broken sat lovely Amanda,
legs like a flamingo but her right eye like a Panda.
I sit curled and hidden under my bridge
My place to think, my comfort dwelling
To calm myself from unsympathetic panic and anxiety
My untouchable place, a place to ponder
Restoring my body, mind and chaotic sensory perception
I remain invisible under my healing bridge
Restoring my psychoanalytical brain process
To a more level orientation
Damage limitation quietly undoing
The blackened anxiety and panic which mocks
Slowly fading to manageable levels
My healing bridge is a lonely figure
Of which I can identify
Cold stone and clinical metal
A depressing site to some
To me it is like a medicine or magic pill
Which takes my negative poisons away
The bridge will be around long after I have gone
I hope my healing bridge gives comfort to a troubled someone
And can help take their pain away
When you offer up your heart and soul
and pour yourself into a relationship
only to have it spat back into your face
and your heart ripped out and trampled under foot
right before your own eyes
and when you attempt any kind of damage limitation
to be laughed at almost hysterically
leaving you to hide in a dark corner
with the tears streaming down your face
feeling every raw nerve being scraped again and again
and yet you go on hoping for better
optimistically hoping for sunrise
when in reality there is only the night and darkness
the darkness of her nasty mouth and wicked laugh
in it all there is one glimmer of light,
the children you made are beautiful and bright
and young as they are they can see the truth
as you retreat further you feel it stir
deep inside it fights back
your spirit, that wonderful human thing
it’ still there unbroken, just a little bent
so you escape into your art
and pour into it your heart
but art has a dark side too
and it can bite you opening up the wounds
making you raw once again
facing the darkness from within your light
and so yet again you retreat into the night
...............deeper and DEEPER into Darkness
You imply the cruel
Based on an outcome
You fear to admit to.
Disclosing only your version
Of truth vs. fact.
Lies for damage limitation
Lead to fabricated trust.
Your theory of friendship’s
Compassion and kindness
Now reads like a satire.
The thoughtless consequences
Of your fairytales.
So you assume too much
And I beg to differ.
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