SoulReserve

mantrabay:

Radio Odyssesy

It’s that time again,

that airy hallmark intro, the vibrant brass ensemble.

Signpost to an hour long journey where passage, paean and piece come out to play.

Odyssey for fantasist and literary scion.

Earnest open invite to the madcap mind,

mine and those of others.

Each and every Sunday I’m religiously transported to exotic beaches known to veteran nomads.

Boundlessly I leap across the airwaves only to be stranded in some Middle Eastern plot,

the likes of which would put twin peaks to shame.

Without a fear I flit medieval back streets like

this ghost from other worlds,

cobblestone character

on wings,

melting pots beyond our daily grind,

landmarks that I’ve never seen before.

Out of body drama for us

fervent wishful thinkers.

Roles from ancient history now assumed but for an inkling, the icons I become, those rapid twists and turns of me the centre piece.

Maybe I’m that innocent abroad, clueless hiker, stony broke,

wandering a land whose complex tongue I’ve yet to master

or that moth-infested secret of the thirty year rule.

With a little latitude I’d silhouette my reverie landing on some poet’s scented flower or just as likely eavesdrop on the mocha sipping Monet, coffee cup aloft,

cast among the butterflies,

harvesting my thoughts on barren canvass.

Going back in time to famous childhoods

I’m some regal mother’s one and only joy,

a fragile baby cradled by maternal soothing sounds.

Imagine for a moment me the swimmer,

wallower in oceans Maya blue,

driven by the prospect

of Olympic medal glory,

fuelled by live wire rushes,

or the influential orchestrator sculpting drafts so lyrical they lift the Sony user into orbit.

But alas this wondrous flight ends far too soon, as that sonic brass arrangement slowly morphs into the haze.

Perhaps one day I’ll be the voice that hypnotises souls,

filler of a void with vivid wordscapes,

teleporting lives to fourth dimensions.

There’s always hope.

mantrabay Copyright Protected

All My Own Work

Thank you so much for submitting your beautiful poem dear poet, I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I also enjoyed creating a poem in response to and inspired by yours. I hope you like it <3 This has been such a fabulous time for collaborations!! 

“airwaves”

I am tired of this voice
I hear over the telephone,
the buzz, the static, the buzz
and then you.
the noise. the noise. the noise
and then you.
till I fade. till you fade.
(we are fading aren’t we?)

I am tired of hearing you
from far and then feeling like
embracing you, but you aren’t just
that near.
I am tired of escaping into dreams
of you. of us. that are too far
too, just like you.

I am tired. I shake this feeling
of being remote. working on endless
loops of hope and pure energy. this
energy doesn’t drive me anymore. it
doesn’t carry the weight of a heavy
heart weighted in tears. waiting.
waiting. waiting. and then.
nothing.

I am tired of extracting
how you feel from our conversations.
distilling moods and feelings.
sometimes I just feel like being
together and not having this
distance drown everything we have
and suffocate me like this.

I am tired of feeling tired. I want
to be alive and real. face to face
that kind of real. without excuses
and without reason just showing up
and being there because baby,
life is too short
and I am not too keen
to waste it on bated breaths
and airwaves.

© SoulReserve 2020

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *