A mix of rain and wind and waking up, happy from half-forgotten, fast-fading dreams.

Rain dreams

Strong wind,
rain sweeps our city at night.
Dreams sweeping muddled minds.
Forgotten sight,
fading sounds, smells,
but a clearing away of debris,
a sense of something
fresh in the air.
Torn green,
broken pots amongst glistening leaves.
Blue sky greets morning.

Dhaka 2015

This week’s poem, inspired by recent dubious judgements on my part.

Superwoman

Here comes Superwoman,
dressed in cloak and tights,
knocking down those barriers,
fighting for your right
to rise up, early every morning,
shouting from great heights.

See you watch me, skeptical,
rolling eyes show whites,
in the end I better let you
fight your chosen fights.

.
Dhaka 2015

.

This week’s poem grasping for the strange feeling of waking up in dark night after traveling and having no idea where you are.

Night

Opening eyelids marks no change,
and I can’t remember
which way to the bathroom.
Total blackness. How did I get here,
where is the door?
Ask silence, am I alone here?
In blankness search for trails to follow
back to where I am.
To who I am.
And I can’t remember my name.

Dhaka 2015

This week’s poem inspired by a recent reunion with my four siblings for the first time in twenty years.

Sibling oenology

Not only wine grows more complex with age,
more defined, sharper,
astringent and dry.

Not only wine develops spirit and depth,
more intoxicating, balanced
quirky, unique.

Not only wine brings on reminiscing,
renews memories,
rejuvenates pasts.

Not only wine, lovely wine –
but it helps.

Denmark 2015