Friday, 4 November 2011

Two Poems by Fraser Miller


Blessed days

And sun yellowed hay

Mingled closely, together,

A single finger, beckoning, come hither.

Words strive for what birds tweet,

While bodies entwine beneath the sheets.

And when breath is gone,

while warmth remains,

Self is gone,

While we stay

Without the words to speak

Songs that come from birds’ beaks:

Suspended, motionless in time

As our bodies remind

How what is one

Can never be apart.

Unknown Reasons

I hate being away,

Hate temptations to stray,

Hate you being alone,

Wondering where you roam,

Hate you there with them,

Hate having to condemn

Myself among those

Who constantly show

Lack of being, lack of there,

Lack of anything, with soul laid bare.

Standing still, standing strong,

Standing till the kingdom come,

Holding up, my head held high,

Not letting tears be cried,

Holding there, forever strong

In your eyes, despite the wrong.

By Fraser Miller

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