fear

Rue Des Barres

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

In the Paris Cafe

on Rue Des Barres

I see you are hungry.

You need a cold drink.

Your thirst isn’t quenched.

You flirt with the waiter,

who looks like Chagall

with his curved archer smile.

Nothing is wrong.

He responds to your mirth.

Your hands

the wings

of a trapped butterfly

flutter and flap.

You are trying to grip.

Your twinkling eyes and deep-seated desires

have more rising steam than the dish he presents.

You’re on fire.

It’s a sign of your burgeoning age.

But it’s not as late as you fear.

I take a sip of clear water

That’s all I now need.

I don’t want fancy wine anymore.

I am fine.

Lean back in your chair.

Relax at my side.

I have told you before

How deeply I care.

The future is certain, open and wide.

Back Again

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The fire is laid.
The house is furnished
and here we are,
hopeful lovers,
passing by this way again.

No doubt the storms may sometimes blow.
We both still need to learn and grow.
This time though, it’s not the same.
Fear wont drive us both away.
The fire burns warm.
I fixed the roof against the rain.

This time darling,
through your tears,
you grew strong.
I couldn’t leave.
I had to stay.
You’re not alone.
We made it home.

Crashing

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i have been in a train wreck
slow motion
with grinding wheels
my body is shuddering
frozen
i shake in every limb
in the midst
of debris
i sit
in classic symptoms of shock
trying to think
and feel

the thing i most need
is calmness
to see the future clear

i saw you
and then you vanished

i thought it a very bad omen indeed
it clenched my heart
in fear

i told myself
this wont happen again
but it did
over and over
crashing
you kept on crashing
but you made it back
in the end

The Door

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the door that stands behind her slowly opens
i kick it shut
time after time
each time i look it’s open again
this mysterious haunting door
nothing is visible, nothing profound
i see her longing,
longing for sleep,
i see fear,
a lost look in her eyes,
as i hold her still, warm hand

there are tears in my eyes
i won’t let them flow for her now

the door swings ever wider
and lets in a soft evening light

it’s gentle, that light,
i see that

Spider

/ A. Gouedard / 4 Comments

what is it about a spider
that i can’t get out of my head?
those scuttling legs
fill me we nauseous dread

I know that they’re creative
i watched the webs they build
yet something deep inside of me
yearns that they be killed

you may not be aware
when a spider enters the room
but i always see them instantly
a little black splash of dark gloom

i have tried so hard to like them
i have let them come so near
i even tried to touch one
but i cant overcome the fear

i am not a spider killer
i warn them when i can
but some are so determined
to sit just where i am

i cant stand a spider
even in a book
i flip the page with horror
i just don’t want to look

those waving legs alarm me
i loathe their nobbly heads
the ones that come with harvest
sneak up on the bed!

itsy bitsy spider climbing up the spout
if i hear him coming closer
i’ll flush the bugger out!

Shadow Dancing

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shadows dancing on the wall in firelight

music heard far off, the shade behind the waterfall,

a leaf turning in light, falling, landing rots to dust

 

the echo of a voice across a valley far away, sun sinking,

frost that silvers the hilltops, the cocks crow at dawn,

a sense that all is born to die, overpowered, as it must

 

light reflected in a lake, rainbows over cornfields,

swallows gliding on the high still air, above the wood,

the dark smell of mud, these are things i trust

 

bring what life gives or go as it will

night into day, day into night,

underneath all this one dazzling beauty,

shining bright,

burning light,

conquering fruitless fear