Gloomy Sunday

Sunday is like a sad ending
a permanent halo of murky clouds with threats of rain
My first instinct is to
wrap up
curl up with a good book
hot coffee cooling
candles burning
the rain is pouring and the wind is crying 
as if in mourning
the death of the week.


I look up to the night sky and see
the moon and the goddess of love
shining down on me and filling me with light
Virility and fertility
neighbours becoming aware of each others existence
appearing close to touch yet light years away
like lovers reaching out to clutch at nothing.

Night Terror

My glass is almost full to capacity
brimming with uncertainty
The starless sky lies thick and heavy
suffocating me
In the quiet of the night it screams to be heard
anxious thoughts – all consuming
a racing heart with scattered beats
wake me from these fevre dreams
With bleary eyes and a heavy heart
have I even been asleep?