On random days, his thoughts flit by like leaves
upon a breeze; no mental grasp retrieves
them once they drift. They're eddied, caught, then flung
to clouds of grey and never pass the tongue,
abducted from its tip as if by thieves.
And thief it is, this creeper that deceives
him still: three-fingered footpad that relieves
him of his mind's reserves, both old and young,
on random days.
Memories melt, as icicles under eaves
drip into puddles. A name or face now leaves
behind a formless shadow. Scraps are wrung
from once-loved songs now better left unsung,
and when he can remember to, he grieves
on random days.
by Scotty Blake
Scotty was born in Scotland and emigrated to Australia in the late 60's. He prefers to write humorous poetry but realises that it's a somewhat limited market, and, if given a choice, would rather write metrical poems than free-verse ones. He has had some pieces accepted online at ReadingDivas and SunkenLines, and in print in Up and Under, the Quick-n-Dirty Poets' Review. By his own admission, being published isn't a driving ambition but more of a bonus to the fun and the challenge that make up the constant learning process that is the craft of poetry.
Feathers: a Ghazal
All I have left of you now is feathers,
silver-edged, steel-grey falcon feathers.
I wish I had more memories of you,
they slip from my grasp like windblown feathers.
You laid aside your shining armor
for giant wings of smoke-grey feathers.
Strong and solid, vital presence
reduced to thoughts as light as feathers.
The flute falls still and in its absence
all we can hear is rustling feathers.
Ashes and embers fall to earth,
smoke rises up like ghostly feathers.
Tears fall like rain and flow like rivers
and carry away a handful of feathers.
by Tiel Aisha Ansari
Tiel Aisha Ansari is a Sufi, martial artist, ecologist and computer
programmer. She lives in Oregon with her husband and several pets. Her
poetry has appeared at Ya'Sou! Online, True Poet Magazine and Sol