Stories of a Madman



I happened upon a flower I did not recognise,
Its shadow imprinted with the suns height,
Admonitions, a gentle nostalgic breeze raising shoulders,
Mastering curls already tussled, my lips
Arguing with themselves as I came back to me.


I closed my eyes and picked a random flower with a blind hand,
Tempted, its colour brushed across the sky.
I watched a poet once press the scent beside his heart
Where it proceeded to advance analogies of death.
All essence seeks love. When we reach it, robes fall off,
The petal dies. There is nothing so lovely at all.


I want this union. Life slipping to forever, resurrecting an uninhabited us.
I watch birds; they know the moment to fly.
I listen to the many fallen leaves; they know when to sing with the wind.
I learned from the madman who came to bury me;
He told me it was time to meet you.


I will meet you there in the garden at sunrise. You already know the way.



(c) A Hannan


2 thoughts on “Stories of a Madman

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s