Seeing Red
by
Falko
Secrets held in lowered eyes
When you see the appearance of humility -
Do not mistake it for a lack of ability.
Crimson Echoes washed with snow
Hush
The light is fading.
As we watch - we see the wind hide and seek,
Weaving streams of cold air in and out
She creates a motional sculpture,
A moving tableau of gold.
A movie of burnt orange, a sepia blur -
Before our eyes
A crimson echoe of past lives.
Gust!
Breath,
Still…
The tall boastful trees have lost their dignity,
Their puffed up proclamations of grandeur empty.
They stand awkward - stark, exposed!
Their showy splendour gently robbed
As the wind coaxed the leaves from their branches
Low - a merry murmur as she fondles the fallen foliage.
Deep in the raked core of the forest -
High in the hills,
A gathered hue of brown slumbers.
A sudden twitch startles
Heavy eyelids stubbornly rise,
A curious head lifts
The sea of brown stirs.
Quietly as a cushion, a shadow sits up
Unaware of what lies ahead yet drawn by the ghostly glow…
Careful not to wake the others,
The shadow steals away from the warmth.
Inexperience totter, an unsure stumble…
To the mouth of the cave
That gives way to a steep path and sharp cliff,
Below the competitive valley of twigs pose.
A gasp!
Wide brown eyes look up and see a fairy dance
Down from the heavens.
The coolness truly awakens the lone bear.
The wind from the valley inspires to play and to find a friend
She tends to him - her whisper carried far.
"A vision" she says
"It's your first snow fall
Your first winter!"
She blows round his head and across his back
"Behold little one - your kingdom!"
With a shudder
He shakes the cold snow from his coat
And sees for the very first time,
This vision is a seasonal sign.
From youth to king - and soon to know
Crimson echoes washed with snow.
My beautiful friends are the jewels in my crown of happiness, the years won't wear away their luster.
I wrote this poem for one of my best friends before I left Zimbabwe over ten years ago, she kept it for all these years and showed it to me the other day. I wanted to include it in this collection of poems and share it with you - it speaks of an unbreakable bond between friends...
My gentle one
A gentle one calls beckoning me close,
With light from within
And warmth reaching out.
Bearing gifts of delight
And love without boundary,
Overflowing with beauty and grace.
It is you my angel.
You have come to me,
I respond.
Your laughter is mine
I have felt your pain.
Quiet storm, thunderous peace
I stand.
Look for me, where the river rages
Yielding to rocks - exploding into mist.
Where the wind moves silently through the trees
My spirit is there.
Where the blade grows within the forest
And the birds soar within the heavens
You will find me.
My gentle one you have captured my soul
You have spoken
- I have responded.
The full story
I heard there were auditions for 'Into the Woods', I didn't know much about the musical but it sounded like fun. I was informed that I would need to prepare a song by Sondheim and perform a two minute fairy tale.
The song I did was 'Losing my mind' from the Follies. Sondheim is not easy to do but this song seemed less obscure and I did like it.
The story I chose was 'Puss in boots'. I love cats, I have two, Chelsea and Brixton, and I just fancied the idea of being one. I had some time, so I thought I'd write an adaptation, that way if they had heard it before that day, mine would still be interesting and fresh for the panel...
See the book for the full story
I wrote and illustrated a tribal version of 'Puss in boots' for an art exhibition - I called it 'The Cat in Sandals'.
THE END
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