Once A Moment Moved On

Once a Moment Moved On

At times we have fleeting experiences where we meet someone who is truly interesting and captivating.  But it is only for a moment, and the moment leaves as swiftly as it began.  This verse tries to capture that moment.

Once a Moment Moved On

Billy Joel intones the words

Songs for melancholy lones

Whose wistful wafting thoughts

float by


Still, not quite float,

But weigh down,

Like a cloud of fog

That has blown in

The wake

of the last encounter

With beautiful specimens

Of humanity

Before and beside us.

A passing connection

A moment of mingling

Eyes aglow

Then gone

As the emerald hue

Sways its ways away


The moment that was



now empty

Somehow a lack

For what was

And shall not be.

Simon C.J. Falk                                               15 May 2015


What Colour is Your Mother?

What Colour is Your Mother?

A repost for this Mother’s Day.  Thoughts on this topic began some time ago. I was talking with a mother who does not like pink.  She much prefers purple or violet and mauve.  She is also very fond of green and blue.  It has all been spinning around in my echoey little head.  This weekend in Australia, we celebrate Mothers’ Day.  We hope all your mothers enjoy the weekend.

What Colour is Your Mother?

What colour is your mother?

Is she orange or yellow?

Bursting forth,

like the intensity of the summer sun.

Might she be pink and pretty?

Full of the promise of a youthful mum,

With years of mothering ahead of her.

Is she soft and subtle, like mauve or lavender hues?

And hints of lilac?

Always sustaining

The backdrop of your life.

Or, is she the ruby red of love?


And fought

And won.

Or spent

On the battlefield,

Or ‘neath the martyr’s crown.

Has she the lush and liveliness of deep green?

Like a meadow inviting you

To sprawl or sit

In delight.

Does she rise in regal violet and purple?

Of a royal state and grace.

Or are her eyes like the bluest ocean?

Reflecting, in its depths,

The overcast sky.

Or the warm hue of the cloudless dome?

That enfolds us in its throw.

What kind of colour has your mother shone

Down the spectrum of your years?

Might all those colours collect you,

And cast aside your fears.

Simon C.J. Falk 10 May 2014.

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