Balloon

Balloon.

A ridge of slime around the sink

The tragedy of cooling water

With it’s rim of suds and sprawling stains

The debris of life is so mundane

And this vignette is like a spectre

Of yesterday, or a splinter

of sharp light intruding on shadows

Just fractions of tedium

I could do without

In my most imperial conceit

And then an adagio for strings

Stops me instantly

Makes me cry. And I know beauty

Is a living, pulsing thing

All that other stuff is useless

For I would happily die

With this sound filling me

Like some divine balloon

Swelling and ready to raise up

To a heaven that throbs

And gathers all the best of me

Into it’s soft embrace.

Half truths

Half truths

Reach in, to the shadows that entice

All manner of feelings

Reflections of vice

These quiet moments float

In consciousness. Semblances

Of shadows that glance

The nerve endings of truth

An early morning walk

In mist that shrouds

Familiar paths with mystery

Evoking spirits from the past

Softly rolling their last breaths’

Like handkerchiefs,

on thermals of grief

Yet the blankets

In their viscous warmth, pull me

 back to comfort

Into the mist

An ineluctable embrace

Of what has been

This tolerable dream

Bang

 

There is no other

The time is now

This scratchy moment

Only partially perceived

This unwilling partner

So entwined

Is mine and mine alone

This black & white photograph

Is history already

Yet her smile and hope

Are younger than me

Forever will be

That fraction has gone

Just part of the chorus

A chime that sighs

Knowing that loss

Is cold cuts we can’t keep

The ache of love

As it waves goodbye

Gently peeling

Out of reach

Laugh?

Poem

The raucous caws of ragged, black crows

Shriek across wet fields

Their winged beat

Like the portents of sick friends

Or perhaps worse. Enemies.

But no matter. Move on

This preamble to the inevitable

Is a matter of course. Routine.

An assembly to a rag-time chorus

So who cares if it is dismal

And raining yet again. A damp curse

On this new New Year

The sun will rise

At some point

And we will regain the light

If not a full supply

That tumult

Of humour

That we might wish for

5.1.16

5.1

A feeble mist hangs subservient

Beneath the blanched winter sky

And under foot grass gamely springs

Through soil that is soaked

Partial it seems to any impression

The indent of feet. Tyre tracks

All casual traffic etched in frosted dew.

Beyond the line of trees

I hear the pullulating rumble

Of a motorway carrying earnest people

On their high missions

All of us oblivious to these vivid truths

The simple things we forget

Because they are casual

The loose change of the everyday

That slips through the lining and seams

Beyond physical constraints

But I am minded to interpret this

As time passing ( as it does)

That half perceived commodity

Before the lights go down.

Alpha Bet

 

A sign of passing time 

I scrabble for words

To mark significance

Because this day is a gun

That starts one whole New Year

 

Take aim and breathe

Seek the rhythm

That comes with age

Blood pulsating in the sleeve of me

 

Amazed still that newness counts

Out-shining the past

Which comfort and fear

Would like to arrest

 

Step forward and go

Beyond this

And tease out the letters

That form my DNA