Five Poems by CM Pickard

 

Glass Castles

Outside my reach / in the realm of dreams

my footprints skim damp sand / chasing

flowing organza / an image in blazing white

my former self takes shape

golden petals drip from delicate hands

in the waning light

vanished fragments / conversations

history’s tales / glass castles

forged in childhood’s hearth / shattered

youth’s illusions dissolve into tears

soaking my pillow

until woken by dawn’s glow

 

 

Not the end of the world

 

Huddled in warmth,

within a ramshackle shack

beyond an abandoned beach

where driftwood gathers

down a track few venture

through tall tussock grass

 

a two-way radio crackles

and a copper kettle whistles

on the makeshift stove

rumbling in time to the rhythm

of gusts dancing on a rusted tin roof

in a wilderness on the edge

of a southern ocean

where squalling winds surge;

 

he grabs a ceramic mug

inhaling the scent from dying

embers of eucalyptus bark

and glanced at vestiges of a former life

 

weathered books stacked

on the floor near his blanket-covered cot

and smiles at this solitary existence

not the end of the world

but close enough to it

 

An Enlightened Few

 

For those blessed with fortune’s grace

death arrives in twilight,

when winter’s icy wind

rustles changing leaves

on mottled branches,

contrasting the ashen sky

in the fading light,

brittle weathered foliage

drifts downwards,

departing the tree’s safety,

to rest on softened earth

 

it catches others unprepared,

creeping up in silence,

ivy climbing a wall,

weaving upwards;

clinging to aged bricks with crumbling mortar

guided by an unseen force,

until their essence evaporates;

puddles in the sun,

leaving regrets' empty shadows

as their final breath escapes

before they ever lived

 

most, ignore it’s truth

saving for a future that may never arrive

motivated by fear

pushing aside their dreams;

wrapping aspirations,

placing them into capsules

entombed in soil’s embrace,

where procrastination rules,

and dormant seeds shrivel until only husks remain

of a life half-lived.

but an enlightened few greet it; a long-lost friend,

after venturing down paths

full of sorrow and joy

relinquishing life’s journey to those left behind;

understanding

whether we are ready or not

the end is always near.

 

Neglected hearts

neglect breeds indifference, and relationships fail

when rekindled ashes of resentment stir;

crimson fury ignites to shatter the tranquil veil

neglect breeds indifference, and relationships fail

obliterating reason’s last threads when voices exhale

until seared hearts and love’s bitter aftertaste blur

neglect breeds indifference, and relationships fail

when rekindled ashes of resentment stir

 

The Fisherman’s Lament

 

After Off the Coast of Maine by Frederick Jud Waugh, c1920-1940, North Carolina Museum of Art

 

Rendered in oil,

a visage of an ocean front

in silken brushstrokes that shimmer

with life’s vibrancy

yet I squirm;

infused golden light, a warm glow

s

p

i

l

l

s   

a c r o s s  the canvas

and I close my eyes, imagining

the sting of a sea-encrusted breeze

and rolling roar of waves crashing

against a weathered, granite shore

eroded by salt-laden gales

 

deep below blue-green depths

a sea swirls and undulates

while the approaching tide echoes

the fisherman’s lament;

a legacy of homes built

on Cod, and men swallowed

by a sea’s silent levy.

CM Pickard is a self-proclaimed late bloomer, living in Melbourne, Australia. Her poetry was shortlisted in The Letter Review Prize for Poetry and SWWV’s Kathryn Purnell Poetry Prize, appeared in Soul Poetry, Prose & Arts Magazine, The Raven Review, and elsewhere.