Exposure

Paint your portrait,

Canvas stretched,

Framed, by other words,

Splash with colour,

Light will find

Art and truth in daubs.

Capture soul,

With candid shots,

Exposed by camera shot,

Communicate,

Whatever means,

How all change is wrought.

Speak the words,

Listen too,

In lines we read between,

Doubts and questions,

Head held to side,

Squint before the screens.

Not all pictures

Breathe fine art,

Not all media true,

Interpretation,

Opinion polls,

Up to me and you.

 

 

Dream Lives

Trying their best to ignore what they feel,

To live in the present, where everything’s real,

Dreams are ephemeral dice.

Knowing that others’ needs must be met,

They sublimate thoughts, attempt to forget

Chances to live their lives twice.

 

A strange twist of fate to glimpse for a moment

Alternate path that seeks to torment

And prods at the softest of hearts.

She’s just a girl with longing and tears,

He’s simply a boy, heart ridden with fears

And the two must stay far apart.

 

Recollect selves but dream the sweet dream,

Imagine the moment where nothing seems

Impossible to realise.

Shift back to now,

Remembering how

Reality is somehow more wise.

 

Never forget, though, that dreams may come true.

It’s strange and confusing but often they do

In the weirdest of wonderful ways.

They sanctify souls that search for all bliss

To know heart’s desire, love’s sweetest kiss,

Till nights’ searching fulfills all the days.

Only This Second

Dreams unreal tomorrow holds,

No certainties, mere speculation.

Before us now today unfolds,

A brief tomorrow, in duration.

 

Only seconds, fleeting moments,

For use within our hands

To mould and shape, sweetly foment.

This at our command.

 

A vital second of each life,

Only one at just this instant.

Wasted, filled with endless strife?

Or rich with great intent?

 

What is right or wrong we glean.

Where do we want to be?

Have we slept another’s dream,

Their life, their fantasy?

 

Sustained effort, fortitude,

Decisions made, applied,

In such as this, portentous good,

Life is sanctified.

 

No mountain climbed for flag to post

Nor golden haloed wreath,

Fulfilment in what matters most,

Holding to belief.

 

Recognising small but wise,

All seconds clearly count,

They’re striven for, this amplifies

In worth by how they mount

 

In magnitude, their worth, their glory

Those moments every day

That build, arise like Taj, each story,

Monumental in their way.

 

A palace so, not vaulted tomb,

Royal beauty to behold.

Yarn chosen, woven upon each loom,

In all seconds, our stories told.