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Mina Harker Poems
How your face has fallen to the cruel days Like the leaves on the ground Like the moth in my bedroom In circles flying round and round
The sun sets over the weary hills And the yellow fields and dark hedgerows And rows and rows of horizons piled up One by one, one by one
I can take your anger, and walk away the while Still smiling, in measured flight I can walk that weightless mile
My father brought bright laughter and gave the mere inane and the mundane to the sunshine Where we lived, all the time.
We communicate, you and I, across vast landscapes,
She drew me in the shower, two eyes above a smile. Her paintbrush was a finger, the canvas was a tile, I hung there for a second as water welled up in my eye She turned to go, and left alone, I cried and cried and cried.
A quiet breath, like horses galloping The dark air is heavy, the night closing in. There are thoughts at the edges
I lost you 15 years ago. I'm afraid I will lose you again. If in 15 years time, I don't remember your voice, what then? I've grown afraid of Autumn winds blowing dust off my heart. My tears never turned to ice,
I heard them sigh in the howling of the wind For another day that slipped its way through their fingers. It was dark then. The world was covered with ashes.
Is there poetry in the parking lot? In the grid like lines of Milton Keynes? Behind the scenes the dead wind rustles and shakes water's sea-ward dreams Is there poetry amid the reeking refuse and overflowing bins?
My labels have a voice They have a name, they have a place within my chest They have a throbbing beat, a heat, an intensity Each of them burns behind my ribcage
It's only a light breeze, but it's enough, Somewhere a bird is shaking out leaves and twigs from her nest And bits of feathers, bits of fluff Floating past the trees like blossom
15 Years On
It's simple enough to say 'I miss you' and mean it. To those around who remind me of you I can say 'you're like him' or 'he's like you'
Descends The Snow
I want to show you something. There are lines of lights in the city streets And time stops moving Still
Comments about Mina Harker
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
How your face has fallen to the cruel days
Like the leaves on the ground
Like the moth in my bedroom
In circles flying round and round
In circles flying round
How the light casts your eyes
In the early shadows of the night
While in the flickering bedroom light
The moth burns her wings
And then burns them again, and again.
What would you have her do?
For pity her heart burns alone
It is more silent in her mind
So far from the whispering winds of home...
Far from the winds of home.