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The Hurricane
In the eye of the hurricane, of clamour and clangour, of deafening din, we stare into the distance and try to find a focus,a convergence, for our ruthless ruminations to make the internal voices, shouts, screams, and whispers less potent and oppressive, quieter and more distant. Yet they seem to persist rather than perish, sturdy…
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the Wind
the Wind is back with her willowy fingers and her icy breath she’s stroking the hair scratching the cheeks rustling the leaves like the pages of an oft-read book she’s stirring the smells in her grey cauldron summoning the memories of all the Windslong blown by she’s fanning the fire drying the polish on her…
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The Wait
My time drips to the floor Vanishes in the cracks Drunk by the thirsty wood Like water from a capsized glass Leaving me unquenched Letting the canyons on my face run dry As I wait for the world, the people, the life To do what they promised And I turn to stone Then to dust…
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Beneath the Surface
I’ve devoted last couple of weeks to finalising my poetry collection titled Beneath the Surface. Some of these poems are new, some I have carried around in various notebooks and crumpled bits of paper for years, now it’s time for them to to get their well-deserved collection. Today, we’re working on some of the illustrations,…
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5-minute poem
tick-tock the hands roll spinning out of control pen stuck in a rut bleeding ink into a cut lecherous white face grins from the wall your shadow lengthens, heavy to haul bony fingers around your neck too late to scream, too early to wreck © 2018 Erna G.
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Bleak Day
I feel so bleak I hate being weak Under the weather Not holding the reins A cocktail of clichés The day is sunny But, isn’t it funny, I’m hoping for rain To wash the worries Down the drain. © 2018 Erna G.
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Middle of Nowhere
Mosquitoes on the glass Peer at the breathing mass Rubbing their dainty hands Expecting a feast in the sands In the midst of these parched lands Palm trees and a patch of grass Everything else meant to pass The wind tickles the spiky leaves Just a bit, before it heaves A swirling dusty cloud Of…
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Merciless
Waiting on the roadside. What for? To be ticked off, Ground and minced, A pile of drying meat Left to rot and repel Everyone but hungry worms Obese, rolling heavily Yet famished, craving flesh. Is it worth the wait? Don’t peer over my shoulder. It’s just scribbles on parchment. Worry not, it’s but a vain…
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Disintegrating
Dreams fall apart In my hands Seep through my fingers Into the cracks Through the floor And into the river Of tears and sweat Flowing down the canyons Of the aged face where Dead dreams rot and fester Un-lived, unrealised, gone Then turn to bitter dust Carried by the winds Across the valleys Over the…
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The Worm
A worm Lives in my throat Gnaws at the core The rotten apple Force-fed every day Eggs pregnant with doubt Wants me to shout Whenever they say ‘Hold your tongue’ ‘Speak not your mind’ It itches me into speech Piercing and clear Muffled in vain Unstoppable ebb and flow Wriggle turns to whisper Moving through…
Myths & Stories 