Pieces of Me by Wayne McNeish

Glitter ballPieces of me are not left
Lying around to be found
By strangers:

They are guarded.

Pieces of me don’t exist on this page
Because I don’t feel to share
With strangers
The pieces of me that are shattered
And broken,

Clunking to fragments, awaiting that day
I can piece me back together again.

No piece left behind,
Even the splinters must be swept
And kept
Because they are part of me;

Pain born from experience
Re-invites growth,
I have a place on my shelves
For my pieces of hell;

Every piece of me counts,
Without any I’m incomplete;

Destined to search,
To be whole,
I need every piece of me.

Solitude by Andrew Baker

Climping-David Wise
Photo by David Wise

Solitude, the silence that our thoughts
Drift through;
The quietness that seems to allow our brain to evolve.

The drifting sea dampens the shores
Yet sharpens the wit with its coolness
And dark sea sound.

The two old men seek the solitude of the prayers
As they bow to the East;
Traditionally, they have to follow their belief.

The sea birds drift on in the air, swirling,
Diving; always scavenging for a morsel of food,
Always hungry.

The horizon blends with the sky, never ending,
But showing that earth goes on for ever,

The life of the sea.
The silence of peace,
The beauty of solitude.