When Achilles’ Heart Ripens

Worn on the sleeve or exposed at the heel, once the organ has surfaced it is ready to bleed. Transfusion will occur. — Following on from my experiment earlier this week with clichés, today’s verse explores idioms. It is also influenced by my current read – an engrossing book about ancient Rome and Jerusalem, in which

A small heart panics

Little robins cock their heads when I pass and stop. “Hello.” I move. They dart. The forest birds know not to trust. — This is poem 96 in the lead up to the total of 104. The project is to write two poems a week across 52 weeks (i.e. a year). I reasoned, if I

You can give a heart on any day

This handmade heart hangs from a nail above my desk. I don’t remember on which day it was given to me, yet it carries more sentimental meaning than any Valentine’s token I’ve ever received. This heart has shadowed many of my poetry journeys. It has travelled with me from Cape Town to San Diego, to South America, to

An address from a lectern

Here ‘fore me, plinth of polish For the tree to rest on wood In flat sheets with fastened thoughts Set forth as marching words.   Heralded tonight and often They are by crest announced. We cluster! And applaud. It is a shared experience.   Now, to – I must address:   From nothing written from

Preceding seafaring that was not to transpire

She takes to heart her ship That is upon their advice.   Before her and harbour, In good forecast she sets Friendship to the friend As the anchor of relationships.   Later she squints through time’s telescope: Fearful sad that lens. It magnifies other ways winds blow. — Visit my first volume here for a

A Handmade Heart

Handmade Heart   I never got a heart kitsched out of plump red silk or fluffy between grinning paws   My heart was curved out of wire. Two little hands threaded rows of beads terracotta to brown sienna sky verde vermillion   in bedside light my wire-heart hangs glinting only for me.   2002 —