Tuesday, 24 February 2009


his grey hair wiry, unbrushed, forgotten
he stood gazing seawards, lost in thought
the high tailed wind,tugging at his shirtsleeves,
defining his spare frame, the wasted muscles
tall he was still, stooped now, with the burden of age
what drew his gaze and engaged his thoughts
the white caps riding the green, grey sea
their coming and going random, at the will of the wind
the small yacht sailing, black sails filled with motion
the sea birds, wrestling with the wind
none of these did he see, the present was absent from him
his mind journeyed in the past, in happier times
his body once more young and strong
his thoughts, ordered and coherent, his memory intact
his beloved wife, vibrant by his side
her smiling face turned towards him
her clear eyes spilling adoration, her enjoyment palpable
how she loved the sea, the sand, the rushing wind
he turned to take her hand, to grasp her to him
he found only the echo of yesterday's memory
the present embraced him with a sad sigh
there was probably somewhere he should be
something he should have done
his mind so clear in past memories
wandered lost in the mists of the present
he found himself alone in a world grown strange
he longed to cry, to howl out his pain
for the loss of his woman, his life mate
she, the familiar, the remembered, now absent
torn from his side by the twin enemies of age and illness
he survived, half of the whole they once were
he wiped the wind tears from his face and turned for home
to the warm emptiness of his present, to his new companion
the television, satellite, one hundred channels
of mind numbing entertainment, absolving him from thought
encouraging him to sleep, to dream of yesterday
as he sat slouched, slack jawed and unconfused

All materials Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

Thursday, 5 February 2009

the way of words

words are my tools
words are my pleasure
words are for using
enjoying at leisure
words can make mischief
and words can make magic
words describe life and death
cheerful and tragic
words can weave tales
about loving and leaving
explaining emotions of
great joy and grieving
words can be written
or spoken out loud
whispered in love
or roared out in a crowd
words are a way
of exposing my mind
the thoughts that i think
and the questions i find
my days are kept busy
with words in my head
and thoughts so inspired
by the words i have read
i listen to music
hear words in my brain
my words are inspired
by sun and by rain
words cut and they heal
like a good surgeons knife
they offer excitement
and knowledge of life
remember their power
whenever you speak
think of the kindness
or damage you wreak
for words are just words
until they are hurled
with love or with venom
out into the world

Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann