The Cold Blue Yonder

The cold blue yonder beckons like a frozen dream. Piles of ice extend into the air like pallid skyscrapers. Where they and the above meet, no one will ever know. Birds circle in tandem, reflected in the crystal-clear ice. Is it reflected or refracted, I forget so much these days? Whales peep from below to survey the commotion then vanish back into darker depths. Theirs is an ultramarine yonder, not the cerulean of my own.

I have seen things. I have known things. Things have both seen and known me. This is my doom. I recognise most and guess at the rest. Guessing is what humanity does in place of truly understanding. Some are just better guessers than others. I, however, have not the imagination to compete.

The journey was long, too long, if truth be known. My lips are almost as blue as the wall before me. My fingers and toes are closer to black. There are many stages of blue in this reality I term me. Only one is the truth.

I climb. I strike with the pick and kick with the crampons. I build to something massive. The sky remains a mystery during this duress. The wall remains intransigent. Regardless, I grit my teeth and pursue the dream.

Night falls in shades of turquoise, then azure, then aquamarine, then black. The wall of ice takes on its hints but not its promises of a dawn. I hurry now, scared of what might happen if I linger too long.

Time passes. Dreams fade. Stars emerge and die. A moon that is not mine slides across the ice wall like a skater, and is just as quick to leave.

I breach the divide as a tungsten dawn dissolves the black and stains the blue. I could spit; it angers me so much.

Breathe, I tell myself. Breathe, with all your might. And I do. And I shall. And I will forever more.

There are leaps of faith and leaps of loss. There are tumbles and stumbles and falls. I have fallen further than most. I have tumbled and stumbled and bumbled too long. Only in the purity of this misguided endeavour can I redeem myself. It is time.

She watches me from above and below. As the light of this cloudless new day, one of such a deep blue yonder as to defy comparison takes a hold of every other colour and throttles it from sight, she is everywhere. Glass upon glass. reflection upon reflection. I am engulfed.

I always was.

Thank you for reading

Richard

https://ko-fi.com/richardmankers

Indivisible

We two are indivisible, seamless, the same. Two hearts. Two minds. One reason for being. At least, this is what I tell myself each day, as I pray to your form on this polished glass divide. Here, where the rain cannot touch us, and the stars never shine, we exist. In this in-between, we share our moments and span such time as can be recounted. Time! Oh, Time, how you betray us.

We two writhe when apart. We list like hamstrung battleships. There is no noticeable us then, though we still move together, breathe together, live in the same sacred space. Time reaches for us, but its intangible fingers can no more grasp our thoughts than we can. We are the dreamers, Time, not you. More, soon we shall wake and see each other, whilst you shall see only the past. Take that, Time! Yes, take that.

Indivisible, or so I claim. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, but we both bake. Fingers will point and tongues will wag. This is our doom. But we shall close our eyes and ears to the world. We shall brush aside the glass. Then there will be no dream, and time shall not matter. You will be there. So will I.

Thank you for reading

Richard

https://ko-fi.com/richardmankers

Butterfly

She came as a butterfly breeze. As of wings displacing air. As of a kiss upon a cheek.

We met in a club, or a pub, or just in the street? The details are as vague as the notes of her perfume; possibly jasmine, though lavender masks the realm of ghosts. We talked about nothing as everything went on around us, cooing like doves on a branch. Nobody paid us any attention. Then again, why would they have?

Time passed in shadows and light. Time does that, it passes. We stepped between the two like the ethereal lovers we were, eyes locked and hearts reaching. And, for a moment in the night, we connected. One beautiful moment. One that, for our kind, lasts forever. I hope. I pray.

She is my butterfly. I am her cocoon.

I seek the air she occupied nightly. Some deep midnights, I even feel her there, too. I cannot see her, and her perfume fades, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t still holding hands and kissing. Does it?

For one brief instant in this space termed death, where she and I found each other in the midst of those still living, we lived too. I shall not forget it. I shall not forget her.

My one wish: That I dreamt her and not that she dreamt me.

Thank you for reading

Richard

https://ko-fi.com/richardmankers

Wet

Wet

by Richard M. Ankers

Only ever alone with the rain and the sea.

I watched her emerge from the nocturnal river like a perfect pearl. Naked, she was, confused and unchaperoned. A first new life form in aeons. She shimmered for all to see. A miracle. My last hope.

Her beauty outshone the eternal darkness, like the world’s most perfect black rose giving birth to a solitary milk-white petal. She glistened brighter than any star. She dazzled. I was dazzled.

I approached with trepidation, a gliding shadow, and spoke as a mistral wind. “You… Are… Everything…”

“I am nothing.”

The starkness and speed of her response stalled me.

“I have done nothing.”

This time, I was prepared. I decided a direct approach was best.

I closed about the world, about her. “For the first time in eternity, I wished to be seen.”

Her hands fell from her modesty to reveal herself completely. Her eyes appeared to lose their glaze. She smiled. My heart melted.

“I am betrothed.”

I fled.

No star could find me. The spotlight moon illuminated without reason or rhyme. The sun did its best to fill the void. An armada of rainbows searched for my dark gold. Only the rivers had an inkling, as they swept into the deepest sea. Those in the abyss felt the loss, but had never truly experienced my all to begin with.

None would find me, for I was hardest to find by light.

I travelled the earth, and then the starways, and then more. I was everywhere and nowhere, but I never once dared her beauty again: she would have torn my obsidian soul apart. Until…

“Hello.” A soothing soprano.

“I thought my time had passed.”

“It is just beginning.”

I opened one eye to the opaque twin wonders of her own. “You see me?”

“I felt you first.”

“You found me. Me! The unseen!” I sounded like a revealed small child having hidden in a cupboard from a strict parent. “You are the first.”

“I have. I am.”

“How? It is my destiny to go unnoticed. To allow others to shine.”

“My need is greater than theirs.”

“What need?”

“To fulfil yours.”

“You rebuked me?”

“I knew not who you were.”

“But you do now.”

“Everyone does, now.”

I grimaced. “That bad, eh?”

She nodded. A tendril-like strand of hair wiped a tear from her cheek. My breath caught.

“They half need you, whereas I want you fully.”

“You need the lake, the river, the sea. You are born of water and must ever there remain.”

“Sometimes, but not always. I must slip beneath the starshine surface and embrace my creator. I am lost without him. Lost without you. This world is too bright. Too loud. I need the quiet of the…

“Don’t say my name,” I interjected.

“…Night.”

The cape of nothingness slipped from my shoulders, and I stood revealed before her. She smiled anew.

“Now there is only us,” she said, as we slipped beneath the surface into the cool, dark, wet.

The End

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Richard

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Wasted Time

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Richard

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The Girl

Gobblers by Masticadores – Latest post!

A massive thank you to editor, Manuela Timofte, for publishing my latest poem, The Girl. As always, I hope you enjoy it, and please do take a little time to look around the site. There are some wonderful pieces to read.

THE GIRL

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Richard

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…and Coltrane Played

Collaborature Magazine

I’m delighted to announce a new piece of creative writing, …and Coltrane Played, written between myself and my fabulous co-author, and the love of my life, Gina Maria Manchego, is now available at Collaborature. This is a wonderful magazine that prints stories, poems and more, always written collaboratively between two people. Very unique.

Collaborature To work jointly with others writing in prose or verse.

A short prose that blends music and love, I hope you enjoy our contribution: …and Coltrane Played

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Thank you for reading
Richard

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Separated at Birth

Gobblers by Masticadores – Latest Post

A big thank you to editor, Manuela Timofte, for publishing my latest short prose, Separated at Birth. Please take a look at the other wonderful poetry and prose on the site. Gobblers by Masticadores never disappoints. Here

Enjoy

Richard – https://ko-fi.com/richardmankers

Photo by Stefano Bucciarelli on Unsplash

Separated at Birth

Twins set apart by time and tide, yet close enough to touch. This is our meeting as if from thin air. This is the face on a screen. Here, we linger, the two of us, interacting with a world that neither understands us nor wishes to. We say the right things, act as others, but remain remote. As hermits in a world made social, where everyone and everything is a supposed friend, we become just this.

We feel each other. Our words mean more when felt, not just spoken to appease. Those with poor memories see through such things, for lies are abhorrent to the cerebrally challenged, whereas truths are undoubtedly solid. Even when the pain strikes us both, we remain true to this. When it grows worse, we never falter. When one hurts, so does the other. If one resists weeping, the other blinks back the tears. As if affixed by a very long string, one tug is felt no matter the distance. Two tugs makes the other one topple; I don’t like to see her fall.

This is us, just eyes in a glass face, and voices powered by electronics. It ought not to work, but it does. It ought not to mean so much, but it couldn’t mean more. Twins, some might call us, separated at birth. She touches the screen and I touch it back. I know the pain in her head is as bad as mine, but a pain shared is a pain halved, mother says. Apparently, hers says the same.

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Richard

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Been and Gone

Gobblers by Masticadores Latest Post

A big thank you to editor, Manuela Timofte, for publishing my latest poetry piece, Been and Gone. This one’s a little different in that it’s a collaboration with my co-author and the girl who is my universe, Gina Maria Manchego. I hope you enjoy.

BEEN AND GONE

As always, thank you for reading

Richard

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Thank you for reading
Richard

https://ko-fi.com/richardmankers

If you enjoyed this piece, please consider a small donation
to help further my writing life.

Thank you for reading
Richard

If you enjoyed this piece, please consider a small donation
to help further my writing life: ko-fi

Thank you for reading
Richard

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