October 30th
digital photo

Treasure the Moment....

Too much, or never enough.

Time,

To pause and reflect.

Snatched and watched.

The hands move on.

My time, shared time,

Lost time.

Capture and treasure it,

Seize it and savour it.

Perhaps, at another time,

Dreading or fearing it.

With time,

Soothed and reassured.

Make time and take time,

To look back, reminiscing.

Moving on,

Pleasantly dreaming.

Conserve the commodity.

Per chance a rare find,

This spare moment in time

© Copyright Eileen O’Neill   16/07/2010

Reckoning
35"x 28"
acrylic/fluted sbs

Lullaby

What leaves may fall,
what tunnels window fare
The sheet we use
for propping mirrors
paired

One knot to tie
the sweeping sky
and tall
With wings to carry
circles, feathers, all

Askance aside
Now nestled
pillow blush

And oh,
you look a picture
lying there

Painting

'The Chief'

pen and acrylic on paper

(click on image to enlarge)

Well Wishing

Sixteenth Street, an asbestos shack
Always has enough for this all night game
By the eyes of my customers, they're coming back
Nothing else can help them to ease their pain

And I, walk that plank of shame
As I, say, "Please, come again."
I walk that plank of shame

Always had a thing for the easy load
Trimmed all my possesions to this jet black frame
And tonight while I rumble on the open road
My daughter ships out to the fiery gates

And I, walk that plank of shame
As I, pray for her again.
I walk that plank of shame.

My little boy you're bundled to your daddy's hopes
Waiting to be watered by the future's rain
Though the doctors words were a terrible blow
They were nothing like the look upon our neighbors face

And I, walk that plank of shame
As they, walk their kids away,
I walk that plank of shame

Sixteenth Street, an asbestos shack
Always has enough for this all night game
By the eyes of my customers, they're coming back
Nothing else can help them to ease their pain

And I, walk that plank of shame
As I, say, "Please, come again,"
I walk that plank of shame

Ring

Confidence in
candle wax
and salt

Face to the sky
declaring it
in threes

A pair of spirals
twirling
at my feet

My uttered plea,
when facing the above

To light
and guard
and keep
the nameless sure.

Poem- Echoes of An Evening

Pink sequins and an emerald wrist

in a mirror marred by violence.

Look behind you, there is a spider clinging

to a flimsy web that cannot be held

together by mere words alone.

In a green silk blouse shimmering

like sunshine on a crystal tear,

you look for distraction in a mirror;

you stroke old wounds with fingers

yellowed by cheap cigarettes and years

of bitter acceptance.

Through evenings smelling of stale smoke

and plants dying in Moroccan terracotta,

you comb your hair in a window lit

by moonbeams frail and tarnished with time.

You sleep to the lonely sound of chimes,

and engulf yourself in the folds

of a long and scathing solitude.

Zaina Anwar 2010