Aged, wetherbeaten.
Repainted.
Aged, wetherbeaten.
Six fence panels
Next to a spotted grey post.
Right, right, wrong, right, wrong, wrong.
Split asunder,
Now siblings, they stand.
Nailed shoulder to shoulder
While wending my way one sunny day
in no particular direction
on stopping for reflection
I took a look at flowers by the rustic fence
beside a gnarled old tree
and was amused to see
beautiful colours and textures
which it seemed to me could only be
a painting picturesque
packed with pinks and reds yellows too
while beyond there lay
a field of green beneath a sky of blue
an avid artist if not gardener
it must have been
to have created
such as the sight I had seen
tho' my words won't describe
don't do justice to the sight I saw
it is etched in my memory
and will remain so evermore
You stand and mock me from afar today,
Ignoring truth disguised behind your fear,
Not knowing who you mock or why you stray.
Cold walls of ignorance grow in the way,
Dividing those who should be drawing near.
You stand and mock me from afar today.
A fragile mind that doubts will often sway,
Distrust prevails, obscured by shadowed sneer.
Not knowing who you mock or why you stray.
But brighter dawns can break the cold array,
When hands reach out with love, not hate, sincere.
You stand and mock me from afar today.
Can we not choose to walk a kinder way,
Where acceptance builds the bonds we hold dear?
Not knowing who you mock or why you stray.
If hearts unlock and move past old dismay,
We’ll find a truth beyond our spite and fear.
You stand and mock me from afar today,
Not knowing who you mock or why you stray.
I walk the path I usually do
on the left side of the fence
Running on the right side there’s you
irrational and without sense.
Hence,
I stop
Make myself small,
And wonder
What if once more the fence were a wall?
In my mind, a memoir of fracture
And there it is, that echoing answer.
So I keep walking
Do not want to catch your attention
But just enough to catch you stalling
Can you not feel the tension?
Prevention
It’s clawing on my heart,
As if I could have changed it
You won’t believe it anyway
My memories, they never fit
Used to run like you
Didn’t know where to
Now you’re dancing
Or jumping or flying
And then you start chanting
And only I hear you crying
fence’s formidable periphery
enclosed more than I could ever see
I walked it at eight, was still gone by three
the length of this fence has amazed Tim and me
Tim is a bull I discovered along the way
I wanted to ride him back, but he said “no way!”
I see you an inch at a time,
Filling the spaces left in the fence.
Glints of gaudy, plastic play-jewels,
A shimmer of hair trailing past as you run,
The bright, berry-red of a newly-scraped knee.
I’ve not seen your face,
But I see it in sounds coming over the fence,
Humming while filling your teapot with dirt,
Calling to friends that you know you don’t have,
Or chirping “I’m six!” when a bird asks your age.
Sometimes I “see” your house filling with shouts,
And little you crying in never-cut grass,
“I think he’s asleep” whispered under your breath,
And since you’d like someone to say it to you,
“There, there.”
I’ve not see your face,
Yet I see you completely
In the wisps and the calls given off by a life
And what my heart already knows of
Loneliness.
I opened the door to my heart
and had let it speak without a fence.
If you did close the door to your heart
"Do not worry", I give you that assurance.
Just be a keeper of the trust
by not using
any of our free and fiery conversations
to suddenly break my heart and the world
in an instance.
(31 03.2025)
How in the world is this fence still standing
Taking punches from winds so demanding
With a defiant grin
It refused to give in
Till my dog sent it down in a crash landing
• What's a pretty pink ribbon doing on this rickety, old fence?
• And what looks to be a purse on the dirty forest floor?
• This doesn't make much sense
• For what reason are they here?
• The more I think about it, the more I feel tense
For a consecutive 6 weeks,
You helped a project of "putting the lipsticks on the pig".
Has the fence not damaged by the strangers,
We would not have worked together.
You helped keeping me safe from outsiders,
Prevent people invading into my living quarters,
But, you had stolen the key to my heart's locker,
Made me seeing the fence as a reminder.
Let it bleed inside my mind,
It hurt all days and nights,
Despite I have tried,
The pain and heartache have not ended.
Remember those dots I used,
They were exactly how I felt at the time,
But did not know you well enough to share my inner feelings,
Should never have those feelings in the first place.
It was never your false,
You did not encourage nor give me any wrong messages.
It was me who was so vulnerable,
Growed an affection and invested emotion feelings on you.
I never blamed you terminated our friendship,
If there was any of it.
However. I loathed you for disrespecting me and discriminating me being part of dirty system.
My dogs charge the fence
Barking ferociously at the neighbor dog
Acting like he is a murderous intruder
Here to do serious damage to their pack
The neighbor dog lunges back
Enjoying the game, glad to be of service
I smile at their antics
If the fence disappeared they would be smelling butts
white tail flipped up
nice
set
of antlers
curious
about
the white dog
on other side
of the fence
stag
so close
then gone
as if the deer
just vanished
as if
it was never there
my imagination
retains
the momentum
of magic
the moment
the muse
snapped
the shot
it was the only way
because
there was no time
to waste
my heart racing
whilst my husband slept
as soon as I made my move
the impetus was interrupted
who knows which way hither
he went
or thither
leapt
the neighbor-dog’s not telling
A bright red robin struts on my fence
little lord of this, his street
He whistles out a merry tune
hopeful that he’ll meet
A lovebird who will make their nest
as from his heart he tweets
Together we will recreate
~ and raise a family sweet
We sell our dreams
we buy their lies
we don't really care
if they cross the lines
your reasons are yours
my reasons are mine
I open my doors
if I feel like...
what is the limit?
what is the end?
when do we stop
to learn?
sometimes the world
is a weird fence
stopping us from living
in the promised land.
Jessica
A tall, chain wire fence
surrounds the perimeter
of the power station, casting
its evening shadow over a wide
bank of grass leading down
to the river. Sometimes I sit there
just to listen to the sound
of the wind make music through
the wires.
It is a soft, melancholy music
that carries a certain sorrow.
Uncoupled from a name,
it seems a composite
of the sadness accrued
in the wordless wells of the soul
that finds voice here.
It has a strange attraction,
an addictive beauty
which keeps me coming back
though each note strums
a nerve giving a little hurt.
At times I can almost hear
human voices weaved
into the music, a tone
echoing out of places
made restless with longing.
It is the music that lovers make
and gently plays at the center
of all good art, sad prisoners
of time, composed by the heart
to mourn when what is loved
and what is beautiful in this life
passes from us,
and let go.
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