laundry fresh

i stroll the path
which runs beside the sea
the sun reflecting
hot and bright
on my white shirt
laundry fresh
a sweet breeze blowing
from the north
carrying highland tales
warm with the scent
of summer soon
the field is clover green
star studded
buttercups adorn the green
in such perfection
almost painted
while small white daisies
flee like spattered paint
across the canvas
the firth is still
baby waves wriggle shore wards
and sigh, soft and sibilant
emboldened by their goal
sun hot white sand
with open ears
i hear the earth
my eyes soar
with the hook beaked gulls
to dive white flashing
through the water barrier
i feel the truth
i know creation
my soul sings
while i learn to breathe

Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

the wordspinner

he sat at his desk with his pencil in hand
his mission to write of the sea and the sand
the world and the mountains, the sun and the moon
the legends of arthur, of desert and dune
of castles and pixies and horses that run
of children who cry and girls who have fun
he was a word spinner, his mission in life
to expose with his magic, joy, trouble and strife
each day he sat waiting, for knowledge to rise
allowing expression, the truth and the lies
for no matter what happens a writer must write
for in words are his soul food, they bring him delight
he cared not who read them, nor what they might think
his stories his own, he explored every link
he wrote for his pleasure, because he had need
put pencil to paper, the world would recede
at the end of each day he would lean back and sigh
stretch out his legs and stare at the sky
thank god for the magic of the words in his head
because with no words a word spinner is dead


All materials Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

what is love

what is love but a missing part
a drawn out silence of the heart
the ache inside of absence felt
no brown eyes in which to melt
the long goodbye the missing one
the waiting for the time to come


Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

time enough

The sun sinks slowly, allowing nights gathering dusk entry. Autumn nips at summer's fleeing heel and the slow chill recalls winter's dark memory.

The seasons follow us through life as we tread our chosen road. Time is both enemy and friend, the incredible optimism of childhood...endless time at our disposal, every new experience a wonder to be marvelled at.

The arrogance of youth, immortal in our outlook and impatient in our understanding.

The middle years, a time of building and nurturing, the slow acceptance of responsibility. We learn to love and we learn to lose, time teaches us that great joy and

great sorrow walk hand in hand through the seasons.

Spring, summer, autumn, winter, the seasons pass. So now we stand, fully adult and finally free of the responsibilities that time gifts us with.

A magic time, with freedom to chose.

So I stand, for the moment and look back at the past and I am pleased.

For it was not all good and not all bad, neither always difficult nor always easy.

Joy and sadness, laughter and anger, pain and pleasure.

But it was my road and I have walked it, keeping pace with the seasons, sometimes weary with the load and sometimes dancing with the joys my path provided.

And now a new time ahead, new forks in the road, new decisions to make, a new path to follow.

My mind a little wiser, my heart more gentle, my step a little more careful.

What can I wish for on this last part of my journey through life.

The ability to see those who have need of me and the patience to share my time with them.

A heart that learns to love selflessly and a mind that may understand the fears of others.

A body strong enough to carry me with grace and dignity towards my final destination.

A companion, a love, a soul mate, to walk beside me, for we grow weary alone. A friend to share the wonders and marvels of the road, a life partner to bring joy to all the seasons.

Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

omega

i will tear the fire from my body
and kneel before the gods of passion
i will beg them to accept my offering
accept my fire and grant me peace

day by painful day i will wait
prostrate before the gods of love
will they in time grow weary of my presence?
and accept the gift of my heart's love

but for the gods of past and future
i have nothing that i wish to lose
i will willing, pay the pain price
for every memory of you

Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

a child of creation

i love to wake up in the middle of the night
when the drunks have gone home and turned off the light
the world and it's people are far, far away
not busy and noisy like during the day
there's a chill in the air and a silence around
that during the daytime can never be found
a child of creation, i enjoy being alone
with past and with present and future time zone
i can think of the people who matter to me
of what might still happen and what never be
for we're always creating the world where we live
by the things we imagine and the thoughts that we give



in my mind i can wander where others dare not
indulging my thoughts in a fair camelot
a place of white knights and princes and kings
in search of fair ladies to present with their rings
the rest of the people may live as they please
but past midnight i claim as my time of reprieve
to live as i wish in a world all my own
where magic holds sway and reality's flown
the dreams of my heart form the world where i live
and my lover desires all the love i can give


Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

parrot pellets

tomorrow is parrot pellet day
i need to awake at an early hour
parcelforce waits for no man
seven minutes absence in 48 hours
seven minutes and they are come
and gone with unseemly speed
and the small smurf bird
ugly as a small vulture
with unfinished feathers
and raptor eyes needs weaning
fruit and veg and seed
are not enough for thoroughly
domesticated and ultimately
absolute vegetarians
pellets are required
and i must be there to collect
i need to sleep tonight
but the muse is once more
abroad and wily demands
my full and conscious attention
i say the muse because she, my muse
ignores me now in precious ways
were i sheit on her shoe
i would receive more attention
than this poor poet in pain
no matter even in her ignoring
i find my inspiration
for she it was who taught me
tales of my genius with words
she rubbed like warm oil
slick and soft against my skin
until i believed not only in my craft
but in her everlasting love
which i believe in still
i have no god but my belief in us
in our destiny together
but small blue parrots busy weaning
require my presence to collect
parrot pellet parcels
in the morning

All materials Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann