Patience

Bus shelter blues

Heaven knows
How I feel
What I think
I’m groggy with doubt
Out on my feet
And the Big Book says
That I should be entering a fourth dimension
Experiencing things beyond my wildest dreams

Well I’m not
My mouth is dry
My head is dull
And my faith is shaken
If that is being rocketed to a better place
Then brother
I had better watch out
I’m waiting for something that’s taking an age

And the answer my friends
Is not blowing in the wind
But in the corridors and spaces
That I have fashioned in my head
And used to distort my real journey
Which is the one
From light unto dark
With only love in-between

Hesitance

HeadsLacuna. That still pond waits

For the pebble to strike surface

For a sound to intrude

To break the meniscus and ripple

With sensations that chase cause and effect

And in the murmurs of our conscious world

 Common experience dictates

We miss so much

Yet fractions count

And a life can be built or lost

In a blink. With a sip

Speak up. Fear not. We are friends.

Sapling


Red Flower in the rain

I grow a little every day
A small plant, just for sport
And watch with avid interest
To see if there is progress on any front

I’ve done this for fifteen months
And can’t say I’ve been disappointed
The plant’s still there. It’s still alive
I’m happy enough. Why not?

As the trickle of time
Is squeezed through the tunnel
I watch the dune, those grains of sand
Spill, slip and take nervous shape

And I wonder of course
If the oasis I have in mind to build
Will support life
Ignoring the dust of an existence left behind

Can it flourish in a different atmosphere
Where hope and love make moist
The shoots that seek a tomorrow
And blind me to the arid past

I sit astride the tropics
Love and hope Vs Fear and loss
In this lethal game
And observe that I am here today

Walkies

Image

I have a dog

The dog will die

Is this a lesson I shall carry

To my dying day?

Or does the act of self

That automatic propulsive force

Perfect and flawed

Progress with disregard

To the effects of friction and time

Forgetting along the way

That transience is history in the making

And future clouds are seeds of rain today?

I don’t pity the dog

Why should I?

We are joined in fate.

Hi Kid

Image

Young Boy having fun, party, balloon

Don’t switch off the light

That impulse for fun

Or something random

Not defined by convention

Just let the moment out

and blush, if you must.

For the impetuous

Is clean and bright

Unlike

Rehearsed responses in adult life

That dull the spirit

Requiring as they do

The given truth

Rebel

For an instant

Return to you.

Sweet Nothing

Hampton Ferry

Mist rising like silk

Disturbed by a murmur

Over cold water laid flat

By silence

Before morning shakes it all and,

Our voices breathe warmth

On words that float away

 

The chill stillness

Will evaporate

As we ruffle the shadows

On diffident souls

Whose pathways remain

But the moment has gone

 

The silk sunk by whimsy

Is a memory that whispers

Soft nothings in the mind

As time collapses on the day

For us to rise and shine

Above it all

National Defeat

On yer eadEleven young men wore the shirt
Three Lions and a collective heart
To kick a ball across the grass
In a stadium full of hope

For ninety minutes the ebb and flow
Was televised to millions of souls
A spectacle. A national event. Live
With partisan hopes riding the waves

And at the end. When the man in black
Signalled for play to stop
The impatient millions who invested hope
At least those that followed the white-shirted types

Were left with little more
Than a limp balloon to fill-out
The swelling where pride should grow
Acknowledging that when it mattered

Chile turned up the heat
Which in football parlance
Is all that counts
Don’t cry son. It’s in yer ‘ead

Stranger

Moody sunset over water

In those faraway eyes

And meaningful sighs

I sense cold comfort

A little sadness at the brazier

Of the heart

A propensity to flick the switch

To neutral

And drift

When indications suggest

An all points alert

And rapid mustering

To the central muscle

And a warm infusion

Backed up by the head

That nervous calibrator

Of all that’s read

About the daily post

But I doubt that any intervention

Of mine would help

Farewell my friend

Be happy