Bird

An eternal, rejuvenating flower.
Waiting.
Tight as a bud.
She blooms.
Wings outstretched;
feathered petals,
fanned and reaching.
Taken.
A dance with natures breath,
gliding, darting, diving;
carried by the wind,
like the spore of a thistle.
She lands.
Enwrapped.
Tight as a bud,
once again.

© Strauss
19th January 2007

Bundled

The wind blasts my heavily quilted ears-
It wants in.
A rumbling slipstream,
lashing, determined, unrelenting,
failing to penetrate my being.
I can hear it.
I can see it.
It torments and whips
the grasses at my feet.
But I can not feel it -
I just
can not
feel it.

© Strauss
21st January 2007

Polar Bear

If my life were a blizzard
I'd be the polar bear within it.

I will survive.
It is the polar bear’s nature to survive such conditions.

But to others - I am lost
Even to myself

Enveloped,
blending into the pale of the monochromatic landscape.

In a sense, I am safe;
lost to all who dare venture into the storm

But neither can I be found

© Strauss
20th Jan. 2007

Dust Clouds

Dust clouds smother and choke the air
Lingering, frustrating, tormenting.
Neither blooming nor swirling
They hover like thick plagues of locusts going nowhere.

A wagon progression lays in wait
Patient but increasingly despairing
They know their harvest is spoiling in the dry heat
But the dangers of the winding road ahead, require clarity

Cultivated treasures once gleamed
with all the promises of earths abundance
Now, the grey brown shadows of decay threaten
while tiny insects swarm and infest.

The wagon riders are weary, dejected, defeated
They know the harsh winter will soon be upon them
And they will be without – their mere survival is now paramount.
- But the dust clouds will not settle.

© Strauss
3rd September 2006

Bent Nails

We destroyed the back shed today
Decayed wood remains left after the fray
With jagged old nails poking out
“Bang the nails bent”, my husband did shout.

“Bang the nails bent”, I instructed my Son.
“With the nails jutting out they could hurt someone”.
And when those nails refused to lie down
We wrenched the nails out and hurled ‘em to the ground.

Abiding old nails bent over the wood
Ceased to appear as true nails should
Twisted; tormented in the sun
Now they are bent they won’t hurt anyone

We stacked wood into orderly piles
Rows and rows extending for miles
We hoped the bundles be stolen away
So to the curb they were placed at the end of the day.

The wood stacks tethered in twine
Ancient nails, in the moonlight still shine
By the roadside discarded for free
Tamed and bent nails can’t hurt you or me.

© Strauss
25/04/06

Bruised

The sunlight strains through a dust stained window
Speckled in last spring’s dried raindrops
Bruised shadows fan the entirety of a compromised chamber
Not radiant, not luminous, not exactly dull, but – gentle and subdued
They flicker as the sunlight plays with the stirring foliage outside
Like shadow puppets behind a calico screen
I could cleanse the tainted glass;
Lift the burden from its smattered lens
The light would then flood blindingly, naturally, dazzlingly
But I have become accustomed to the bruised shadows,
And they trouble you not
- Those gentle bruised shadows that dance for me.

© Strauss
10th June 2006

Witness

Through smattered salt sprayed window panes
a curtain cautiously flutters
A distant murmur entwines a tender breeze
-stormy undertones blend nautical mutter

Threatening cumulus bloom with haste
Ferocity builds with tempest’s intent
A distant mist drenches heavy horizons
Expressing God and Angels lament

From a plateau of bordering coastal crust
having endured eons of nature’s lashings
Bearing witness to this distant mistral
Though absent from its transmuting passions

Marine bound rain replenishing
The weary soul of the salty sea
Gently sweeping as do wings of a wasp
Or sprouting forth like bloody mutiny

I dwell the crown of this shy plateau,
Where below, earth and water collide
I observe the tempest billowing westward
-An untamed odyssey; it loathes to subside.

© Strauss
22/4/06

In The Bud of a Rose

There is a gulf between us – you and I
A sea, so many leagues deep.
While slumbering restfully in your bed,
It is I who struggles to sleep.

I fret the day and am nocturnally troubled
About the state and future of things.
I wonder if I could possibly live
With the threat this activity brings.

We hardly compare – you and I.
I hide and you expose.
You wear your heart there on your sleeve,
I conceal mine in the bud of a rose.

You shout to the roof tops to proclaim your love
-I express devotion with mime.
I leave no impression when I walk
But your presence is felt for all time.

If you and I were inanimate things
You’d be a poem and I’d be a mist.
I would vanish, in the warmth of the day,
-You’d linger in mind like a kiss.

I remain nameless to most kind folk and foe,
But you know me as “friend”,
And my mind is grieved by this journey you take
And just how this story could end.

But the moon, it still shines there up above
Like a torch light on a stray page.
And although there is a gulf between us
We might see the same moon, at some stage.

© Strauss
18/4/06

Butterfly Catching

Butterfly catching
Tender heart snatching
Secrets reveal
Truths in the dark.

Butterfly catching
Tender heart snatching
Its hard to dampen fire
Once the wind ignites the spark.

The ground; it rumbles
Then the whole world crumbles
The dominos,
They fall all about.

As the ground rumbles
And the whole world crumbles
Each heart beat
-A raging scream and a shout.

In the eye there is calm
Before the next cause for alarm
A whisper, then a whoosh
And then a BOOM.

In the eye there is calm
Before the next cause for alarm
When things are thrown about
- destroyed in the room.

But try as you might
It just doesn’t look right
When you try
To restore every part

And try as you might
It just doesn’t feel right
Cos’ you changed
As did that place in your heart.

© Strauss
15/4/06

Admiring from Afar

Wallowing in the murkiness
Head above water- heart sinks under.
Foul pond in the dale
- exposed summit across the tundra

Jetty direct above me
The cold shadows I do swim
There is light all around you
But for me, its cold and dim.

Atop the shining summit
Crystal waters just beyond
I, left struggling in the murkiness
Of the dank and dreadful pond.

You reveal secrets of the summit
Its sweet ascent and blissful view
I wonder if I could make the journey
-admiring from afar, like you do?

© Strauss
15/4/06

Little Black Box

There’s a little black box that sits in the shadows
It harbours hearts in there.
One is swollen past bursting point,
The other, is in for repair.

The little black box bears a gold design
Of filigree hearts and flowers,
And a gold faced clock mounted onto the lid
That silently counts down the hours.

There is a little black box that sits in the shadows
- This box you gave to me.
You told me to care for its precious contents,
Then you slipped me a golden key.

I opened the little black box one day,
And saw the paired hearts resting there
While the swollen one beat without failure or strain,
The other lay limp with a tear.

So I gathered some flowers – placed them next to the hearts,
And locked the lid tight with the key.
I wound the gold clock on top of the lid,
knowing time would set them both free.

© Strauss
17/04/06

The Clique

The Clique

The icy winds howl fierce and cold
People say “Hi”, but no more is told.
The cold outside keeps the people in-
I extend my hand, I nod, I grin,
But the cold outside keeps the people in.

The leaves are gone, there’s no shelter here.
It’s hard to make friends at this time of year.
The ground is hard, the puddles are ice-
My heart is warm, I reach out twice,
But the ground is hard and the puddles are ice.

Longing to connect spirits, touch a soul,
Loneliness can take its toll.
This town has history, the doors are shut-
I knock the door, bear gifts, but….
This town has history, the doors are shut.

To get inside where the sunshine reaches,
Takes time and patience and friendly features.
I have no choice, but to wait and see-
I hope they accept my humanity.
I have no choice, but to wait and see.

© Strauss
11th March 2006

Summer

Summer is plentiful.
The fertile grounds of the concluding spring have realised their potential.
Voluptuous fruit adorn a variety of lush vegetation;
Floral blooms expand and shed their budded cloaks,
Fanning soft petals, exude intoxicating perfumes.
Bees swarm, vibrating a hum of contentment;
Purposefully driven, delighted, excited.

But the gifts of summer can be harsh for some
And threatening and dangerous for others.
A shrouded flower, destroyed during the picking of a neighbouring beauty;
An apple, luscious, sparkling, hard, broaching ripe
Pecked by over-zealous birds.
Pocked and marked,
It is left, unchosen until it falls and rots in the grassy folds alone

Tomatoes, plump and juicy;
Skin blistered by the heat of the day.
Potted plants, withered, drooping flowers;
Shrivelled, exhausted leaves.
An oppressive heat;
Summer’s plenty exposed too long,
Deteriorated and denied essential nourishment and care.

Can the harmed reinvent themselves
Or must they face their particular fate?
-Dissolve into the earth from whence they came
Or fight to reclaim their glory despite having had their day in the sun.
I hope the latter is so.
There is too much potential to waste on such a short life
And such a fateful and cruel passing over.

© Strauss
10th June 2006