Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
Moonlight Haiku
Door slam traffic jam
Fuming, steam from ears, hot mess
I pause, moonlight healed.
Rules for Living on the Moon
Don’t touch the flag
Kicking moon dust
In faces
Is Not On!
Look frequently towards
The earth
Admire the sun
With protection
Of course
Reflect
Inwards and out
No cheese jokes
Ok, that’s not mandatory
The only holes
Are in the plot.
The Moon
A card is pulled
A sphere
Leaning to the side
Of mercy.
Our animal self
Howls at it
Barks at it
Gnashes shark teeth
But we can’t control
The master of tides
We fear the path
Between the two towers
Yet walk it we must
Step by step
Gasp by sigh
Kind and just
Smiling
Into the unknown.
Jam
Sticky, clicky poppy lid
Snaps open; nasal bliss
Ensues; a sugary mid
Morning madness
Red, glistening, pips
Upon my shoulder
Captain of the preserves
Conserve my energy
For this conserve
A jewel upon my knife
Then spread on wheat
Burnt, golden, sweet
Jam makes a happy life!
Secret of a Daffodil
I place my ear gently to the golden trumpet
What secrets do you hold?
I heard you whispering
Just as you called to Persephone
Am I distracted by your beauty
Waiting for Hades to snatch me away
Or am I the kidnapper
Of my own destiny?
Narcissus whispers sweetly
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself’
And bobs his yellow head
In the soft, spring breeze.
The Mist
Swirling shroud
A watery veil
Like tired eyes;
A crazed wail
Cracks through the cloud
Of foggy fear
The eyes alive
As shapes appear
Looming, lunging
Awkwardly
Towards a shuddering
Effigy
Of something that used
To be alive
Now lost in the mist
Struggling to survive
Tear off the shroud
Sunlight fries
The frazzling fog
The watery lies
Wail no more
A calm descends
Mist dissipates;
The shuddering ends.
Comes with a Warning
Wash dark feelings separately
Press the red button
Max head room uncertain
Unauthorised access forbidden
Stand clear of the line
If you can see
Where it is.
Eyes Closed
Black
Velvet
Streamed with red
Tiny light
Gone.
The Call
White treasure, petals bright
Fall from high to small
Hands and fingers, softly lands
Adoration; springtime’s call.
Mabh Savage 