Spark of Light

Spark of Light

I’ll stay with you forever,
If you’ll take me to that strange place
Where I danced for you in silk and lace.

We thought we’d brought the heavens down
With that euphoric rush of bliss,
With that soul-satisfying kiss.

Still I love you and I ride
In chariots to the star-filled sky;
That spark of light can never die.

(c) Mary Cochrane 2016

Ghostly Presence In The Hall

Ghostly Presence In The Hall

It is my mansion on the hill;
Magnificent and solitary.
I gaze from the upper window
At the garden and distant sea.

I hear the sound of the rocking horse,
Creaking gently as the children play;
Their voices carrying like music
On a sultry summer’s day.

And the sweet smell of roses
Fills the air and carries me
To another time, another place
In the forefront of my memory.

He was dressed in uniform
When he left on that winter’s day.
I held him for the longest time
Then watched him as he walked away.

I waited for a century
For my lover to return;
The clock ticking endlessly
But he never did come home.

I can hear the children running,
Responding to their mother’s call.
They cannot see me but they sense
The ghostly presence in the hall.

(c) Mary Cochrane 2016

Haunted

Haunted

I struggle to solidify
When your essence is passing by,
Pulling aloft my soul to dance
In a visionary trance.

Then there is the other side
Of that mercurial tide:
The body’s painful colic and
medic’s unseemly rhetoric;

The sensory overload
And perpetual discord;
Contemplating one’s own doom
In a solitary room.

It is a precarious line
That divides your world and mine.
I’m haunted by the sullen tone
Of a catastrophic storm.

(C) Mary Cochrane 2016

A New World

A New World

No more words to invade the night;
They scatter and flee from prosaic sounds:
All manner of grating trivialities
That threaten to disconnect from source.

But soon comes the redemption of nature
And its multitudinous intricacies –
Only its ferocious beauty
Can penetrate and soothe the human soul.

Wisdom, subtly embedded in time,
Mobilises behind the scenes.
The visionary turns the key
And a new world comes into view.

© Mary Cochrane 2016

Refuge

Refuge

Glorification of ruthlessness and ambition,
No remorse or acts of contrition;
Not even the Earth can move ferocious hearts
As the threads of humanity fall apart.

Greed and power are held in highest esteem –
The epitome of the Utopian dream.
The place of refuge lies in unspoiled lands,
Far, far removed from treachery and blood-stained hands.

© Mary Cochrane 2017

My Only Love

My Only Love

The hours are gathering momentum,
Propelling me toward a darker fate –
One more push with renewed vigour,
Only to find that it’s too late.

There is nothing left to save me;
No royal blood, fortune or fame.
The greatest frailty is stagnation
In the modern misanthropic game.

Just hold me for the longest time
And I will never seek redress.
Come back to me, my only love –
Convince me that we’ve conquered death.

(C) Mary Cochrane 2016

Bereft

Bereft

I am bereft
Without your magic,
Without the hurricane
Of your presence.

For twenty-two years
Your voice has cut through
London’s screaming noise,
And the black of all blackness
Suffocates.

I want to rip out these innards
And crush these brittle bones;
Then run to you
Either to fly free
Or be oblivious
To the supreme peace.

Copyright Mary Cochrane 2016

Brutal Legacy

Brutal Legacy

The zephyr is armed and riding
On the winds in a purple sky.
Below a chaffinch is singing
A strange and haunting lullaby:

It was sent from the land of dreams
To enrapture the hearts of men;
To resound a chorus of beauty
And remind them to live again.

But if they should bow to the darkness
And its sombre finality,
The storms will rage on and deliver
Their swift and brutal legacy.

(c) Mary Cochrane 2015

Hallowed Dream

Hallowed Dream

The sea is running blood-red
And the corpses of the dead
Are roaming in a wilderness.
All semblance of reality
And comfort of morality
Have melted into nothingness.

No wretched joy can fill the void
When the feeble heart is destroyed
By a thousand mournful days.
What use are flowers on a tomb
When the long waking hours of doom
Were spent in loneliest decay?

Did you think I could delight
In the terrifying sight
Of the devil’s leering face?:
Unsuccessfully deflecting
My misery with reflection
And yearning for a better place.

If only Heaven would kindly deign
To give release when Autumn came,
I could retreat with hopes serene.
The stars that paled in suffering’s reign
Would burn in brightness once again,
And I could seek my hallowed dream.

Copyright (c) Mary Cochrane 2015

Back To Life

Back To Life

It seems that the immense suffering
Has temporarily abated:
The smells of the hospitals scrubbed off
And the horrors compartmentalised
To a remote corner of my mind.

Days pass by in a repeated haze
Of solitary endeavours:
A breathless round of chores and pleasures
To justify the extra hours
And try to hold it all together.

Hope upon hope, I’d like to meet someone
Who would help me execute my plan
To hold on to those fleeting strands
Of happiness, and who would
Ultimately bring me back to life.

Copyright (c) Mary Cochrane 2015