From Shards of Glass

R. A. Newton

Scattered in the water along with the others,
A fragment of what we once were; all one.
In pieces now, separate from one another.
Glimmering, sparkling in the light that beams down.
Magnified by the water, still just a piece I am
Grounded beneath the mud, among the rocks
Surrounded by dirt and filth not glam
But solid, complacent and blocked.
Picked up by the hands, wrinkled, frail
Examined awhile; intricately, twice
Measured, weighed. from scale to scale.
Until someone could fix me a price
Though broken and scattered among shards of glass
Founded by One who had set me apart
They seated me now above copper and brass
More gleaming than silver or gold from afar.
Chiseled, carved,  polished and shaped
Molded to perfection, embedded in gold.
Displayed in a set and there I was named.
Multifaceted, luminous, precious and bold.
Rainbows of colour explode from within
As sunlight…

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A sprinkle of fairy dust,

Or some atypical nother realm aura

Spiralling focus, in and out of conscience,

I can’t help but smile,

When no one is looking 

And only I would know why

That undercover attraction.

Full of chemistry, and silence.

Perhaps I just like his smile.

Maybe it’s his beautiful eyes.

It could be his hushed voice,

Or that he brushes by like a gentle breeze

From time to time.

It’s  a beautiful distraction; an innocent 

something something. 
R. A. Newton

September 9,2016.


Strumming my fingertips on top of the steering wheel

I drive, 

Winding conscientiously past the Old Markham pubs.

A drunken chorus of the song vibrates in a nostalgic memory

As I reminisced upon us, seated before the musicians,

Each one “three sheets to the wind,” and no faces to recall.

And suddenly your laughter resounds sonorously;

A delight to my ears.

Bittersweet visions of your innocent smile and your conniving smirk engulf me,

And my lips tremble in a dilemma between humming “Ra Ra Rasputin,” 

And “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”

I smile.

Which of these did you resemble? I wonder.

Sweet you were, even in your bitterness.

R. A. Newton

July 5, 2016.


You open me up like a classic
Caressing every leaf of my thoughts, 
Unbinding the spine of my book

Letting the pages fall apart, 

Digging into the mystery

That is simply a girl lost

In a woman’s body,

R. A. Newton

June 15, 2016.


Master crafted,

Painted to perfection,

The artist’s pride, the craftman’s delight

Petite porcelain dolls

With hearts of glass and all

Beautiful to see, smooth to touch

Yet fragile and withstanding no fall.

Tossed, dropped and shattered

In glimmering pieces we end

Only to be transformed

Our stories told in murals of mozaics.

Yet another artist’s hands must pick us up and put us together again,

Rearranged, unrecognizable,

A brand new scenary 

Unfamiliar pictures, 

No longer dolls, the object of the story

But the setting, the place of happening.

One life to another we are thrown,

Broken and mended and broken and mended again.

R. A. Newton

June 11, 2016.

Midnight Blues

I wrapped the night skies around me 

My eyes shimmering like t starlight against the midnight blues

Mighty and vast, everlasting and never ending, he went on before me, behind me, and beside me. Yet a gentle breeze swiftly drifting by was his voice, strong and hushed, empowering and gentle, deep and kind. 

In all his greatness He held me, me alone, and had room for none other. The sky in midnight blues. 

The Sky is mine!

R. A. Newton

June 8, 2016.


Blood ran, deep plum wine

Seeping through slender slits

On a thin violet wrists

Oozing from blue- green veins,

The colour of dancing peacocks

Blending evenly with ebony eyes,

Frozen, fixed upon the gray cement

Copper skin stilled and 

Strands of raven-black waves hair blowing

Floating to and fro in the translucent wind,

A silhouette, a cold statue of painted porcelain, 

Not a sigh of breath through her burgundy lips

Even death, she wore beautifully

R. A. Newton

May 17, 2016.