and the ghost of your cigarette smoke

sometimes by night
while wandering
through poetry
I find
your trail of
words
open
reminding me
you’re very much here
embalmed in your words

*

love, Eaton

the 14th day

It’s your birthday

as unreachable 

as you are

I see you clearly

love 

overtakes 

any disappointment

or regret

mother love

yours for me

love,
 Eaton

just another piece of war

like the petals of a poppy

life is short 

a burst 

a vibrant flame 

soon spent

falling

drifting on the wind

to final rest

fading away

or

a violent end

finishing with a

petal bruising finality

death of roots and stalk

a festering war

love,
Eaton (Berenice Albrecht)

The price has been paid, once and for all!

I wander the streets

looking

searching

hoping

in vane

to find

the gateway

and when I do

I realise

a ‘camel cannot 

go through the 

eye of a needle’

and the way in

resides inside

me 

surrendering

to You.

love,

 Eaton
(Berenice Albrecht)

I miss that

love,
Eaton

Heaven

I'd send you a postcard
but it's too small
for the important things
and I don't know your
forwarding address -
you moved


*


love,
Eaton

you never
raised
your voice

but I know
you hurt

inside

invisible
to the eye

I took you
at face value
unacknowledged
secret intact

in truth
I chose not to
recognise
the lie

What secrets lie hidden under the cover of protection?



love, Eaton

*

The susurrus of petals

floats down around us

You lean into me and ask,

“What’s susurrus?”

I whisper,

“The sound of petals brushing each

other in the breeze –

touching softly in

communion

*

love,
Eaton

For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass wither, and the flower thereof falls away:

1 Peter 1:24

Words End

sadness overcomes her

saki bottle in hand

she bears witness

to your silence

you once described her 

as a lush

provocative 

Saki-swilling Geisha

with a lot to say

poking and prompting 

niggling and nagging her forte

I ache for her sadness

she is fading 

slipping

slipping

slowly away

who wants a used muse!

but it’s ok 

they’re still bottling saki

and sakura blossoms 

will always fall into clever Haiku

I thought she deserved a mention

for her excesses and inconstancies

love, Eaton

the lost art of pragmatism

*

If allowed
the heart will hold a hurt
will look at it from every angle
worshipping its beginning
desiring no end.

*


love,
Eaton

I wound the golden light around my finger
wreathed in leaves of reds and russet
like a gypsy - fluid music with the wind.

love,
Eaton

beloved autumn

*

leaves
spiralling 
out of control
picked up by the wind
a wreath of colours 
gypsy bold 
conspirators in the end dance
stories untold.

*


love, Eaton

26th April, 1986 - commemoration

Long shadows of

man’s defiance against

God’s universal laws

have left us a perpetual

inheritance of toxic richness 

we cannot dispose of

no one to give it to

who would want it

not us

yet, we have it

for thousands of years

to the end of the age

and beyond

thanks wise men of science

you’ve poisoned us 

with an ongoing legacy

thanks again!

*

Photographic record by Gerd Ludwig

love, Eaton

light hearted

The roll of the pen

dropped mid sentence

rushing towards the edge

snatch it up or let it go?

by the time I decide

plop - rolling on the floor.

love, Eaton

a blessed Sunday

courtesy of
http://photos.crossmarkdesign.com/










Easter

*

death has no power
the Saviour of the world lives
salvation goes on.




love,
Eaton

Haiku

softly, softly

falling gently on the roof

rain drops landing.

love,
Eaton

Haiku

very small sneakers

parked at grandpa's bedside

asleep in his cot.

love,
Eaton

Haiku - autumn

tattered leaves

turning gold on the vine

fewer flowers.

love,
Eaton

Haiku

fanciful tales 

blown around by the winds

silence in the rain.

love,
Eaton

Haiku

fresh thoughts

jotting them on used paper

recycled words.

love,
Eaton