My name is Henry

short poetry, photography, new, fresh, ghost, gauze, faint, tenuous, dimension

The place I used to visit,
On bad days,
With yoghurt and spoon,
Is vacant.

The leaves are raked,
Into a neat pile,
By the bench,

And except for the newspaper,
Blowing about in the wind,
There is no-one here.

The river beyond,
Is a murky brown,
Same as it’s always been,

But,

Over the concrete balustrade,
On the sandy bank on the other side,
Is a briefcase.

Is it yours?

My name is Henry,
And I’ve been disappearing for years.

I can’t seem to find my way home.

 

photo – webstockpro.com

-evocative short poetry

 

 

Careful now…

 

short poetry, Africa, hope, future, children, freedom, potential

 

And look!
There’s an African!

Oh!

There’s another!

So fragile,
Precious stones off,
Every limb!

Careful now,
May come a time,

When evil cloaked in,
What is right!
Leads goodness into night!

 

words move, Africa, reconcilliation, ownership, economics, future, death

See – Exile
photos – Pierre Holtz & Paul Cadenhead for REUTERS at TotallyCoolPix.com