Short Fibres Poems

Each washing cycle
spews out more micro-fibres.
It's time to wash less....

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under the tree of eternal wisdom
yellow light rays of the lazy sun
waiting for the eggs
here we are
aching tissues of white fibres
stretching like a blue snake 
a red fly lands on my feet
and breaks into a broad 
smile an old leaf flutters 
down in slow motion in
front of me languidly
we were welding our souls...

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Some I call friends 
But they don’t let me in
They need you close
If you meet their own gain

The fibres of my heart
So deep and trustful
Become a wrenching heave -
A broken spirit, so humble

In a world of substantial fitting
And dependence on each other
With time, they could be you 
On their way to salvation...

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Adam and Eve, the parents of you, me and Steiner
                     Defy God’s wish, go to market, and buy a strainer
                         They strain the streaming sin from the fruit
                            the fibres remain, the seeds to uproot 
               They yell Ha the sin’s out seeds out we’re free,no-brainer...

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A Moulded Destiny 

To have  our  hearts woven as one,
To share  our  souls united together,
It bonds the fibres of our love,
To cast a mould to last forever,

To sing a melody that lingers on,
And embrace a passion like the scent of a rose,
It’s our faith in each other which join our hands,
We didn’t choose our destiny,
It chose us....

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Do you remember
the first time we met?
I do: it was on a warm
sundae afternoon.

There were gales
of mischief and glee
all around, each cradling
a clear plastic bag,

with a treat of tumbleweed
trying to escape the rim:
banana, toffee or
vanilla flavoured

cotton candy; or
were they woolly fibres -
similar to the strands that
intermingle in your felted hair?...

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With You.

Lay the whole of your heart 
inside
the fibres of my gentle care.

Through the keyhole in my 
mind
I will see as you sleep there.

Resting tonight I will be by 
your side
And send you warm dreams.

Take care as you turn, you 
may find
A curl of my hair lying near.

Pillowed alongside to remind
you, - a promise,
I shall be with you tonight....

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The Shedding of Skin. 

Parched lullabies seem jarring,
gentle persuasion an assault,
quiet understanding reeking of decay,
fatigued under this skin in which I must stay. 

Dreams of moulting,
shedding the hubris of crafty words,
flushing away all famished rhymes,
ripping the fibres of an ink-stained past. 

Knowing. 

Always knowing,

that honey-soaked kisses, seem destined,
breathlessly,
never to last....

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Two pins stand on the map
One the beginning, one the end
But what connects the two
Is a string born from the mind

What will the string be made of?
What fibres create its form?
Will it be silken and smooth?
Or coarse and rough?
Will it even reach the other end?
Or snap in its midst?

That string is ours to make
We are the weavers of our fate
The path is ours to create
For us alone will it be laid...

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Felled in the form and gelled in indescribable,
It was a conundrum quite unfathomable,
Some chemicals reacted on its fibres,
A reaction took place in its innards,
and laughed at scared cowards,
who had shrunk and sprung back,
as if running with their ruck sacks,
the lava spewed from the volcano,
rammed in constantly dismembering form,
all that came in its way was torn,
some truths are like lava,
they simply sear through,
make culprits hurry and attention all drew....

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