Short Oxygenated Poems

       anger released... thus
    
     oxygenated... breathing  
 
       ... unfettered for life
...

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N atural niceties
A ffectionate afterthoughts in the afternoon
T antilising textures
U nderstanding the unseen
R epeated splendidness in the morning mist
E ssential oxygenated environment...

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The smoke is rising
On the far horizon
The Eastern skies are aglow
With the countless fires,
Of funeral pyres
In numbers we cannot know,
Strange fires indeed
That burn for the need
Of oxygenated air.
And we, who stand so far away,
Are still left cold, and smugly say,
“We are here, and they are there.”
But it’s fools who stand and look on blind
At the smoke that’s carried on the westward wind.

© Barry Freeman	5th May 2021...

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For me, 
it's when 
I pause from
crying
because I hear
laughing.
The weed and the
flower
both give
oxygenated
power
Both sustain.
Beauty and pain
When we rise;
when we fall,
when storms
come and remove
our bedrock
Life still pays
dividends
with mineral deposits
and adds stock
with spiritual
significance.
A touch of sun
evaporates a lot of rain.
Whether once removed
or family added to
Life goes on
and his beat
will be something
we can ride to...

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