Ouch. Acedia

Ouch. Poem.jpg

Faraway forgotten weeds,

their tendrils in a wasteland

of spectral hope

seek faith to confront the fear

which plays a game of ‘touch and go’

in each brave spirit that yearns

to go into eternal blue

which is only a harps plaintive chord away

immune to loss or gain

In the mirror’s bruised image, a face leaks images of crime

or rapture, though each is a personal view

 erected on a line we perceive as infinity

And so, inertia rankles in that sumptuous dilemma

arrested in pursuit

of the furthest, spreading,

ache of blue.

All about it

all-about-it-pic

A drab, slate grey pall

is drawn across the park

and further for all I know

perhaps even to Uzbekistan

wherever that may be

My dog and I simply walk

a familiar circuit on wet grass

past dead or dying vegetation

surrendered to the season

Dull markers below that impassive sky

In all of this I try

to extract a sense of beauty

out of blind optimism

A duty to the light

that struggles to excite my humanity

That indentured quality we know

in service to respectability

The socks and ties, pressed shirts

and fear of the face on time

are all stitched into the blanket overhead

And back home for tea

Silent rain becomes insistent

watchful for the pores

of vulnerable fabric that will allow

the damp curse to pervade

A lesson in the shaking dog

how violently she dispels

the cloying elements from her coat

eats the proffered food

and slumps down vacantly to sleep.

Dream On

dream-on

Would that we

could linger in romance

our lovers words coating the air

with a fragrance of intimations

so personal they self immolate

and standing back

 wallow in their dust.

But on reflection I find

a sadness in the hearth

when I rake at the ash

and know the ache

of what was lost in flames

hoping with all my heart

that our souls

have not come apart

in this keening for closeness

we knew once as love