The inevitability of beauty

The inevitability of beauty

 

wind seething chases its tail

mock fighting in a demonstration

of how futile it is to resist, meanwhile

bamboo bends like a vaulter in pursuit of personal- bests

and the sun is benign, spectating as if this

were all an earthbound diversion

 

nature lends a hand here and there

the magnolia flowering now reminds me of Mum

whose birthday came round eighty nine times in late March

and the wisteria buds fat and tight waiting to erupt

and the daffodils have walked their cocky yellow strides

so now the garden centres are looking forward to bulging tills

 

this truly is the time of sap and surge when

I am quiet, watchful and wanting to be on the manifest

as a passenger going forward; am I willing and primed?

do I have what it takes to qualify for the ticket and can I

just let nature take its course

Of course I can. I must

A letter home

A letter home. pic

 

time passing

opaque

like a shroud

we can see it move

it shimmers with

an echo of our transgressions

precious but not forgiving

and without the generosity of a smile

 

I am trapped by nostalgia

the faded warmth of remembered thoughts

where-in the past has forgotten

the marching band of

acolytes goose-stepping forward

and left in a mould marked melancholy

where future movement

has lost its traction

and left me smooth

as a tiny beach stone

eyeing the braying tide

Longing

Chess Mates. I have this sense of impending doom.

 

day by day

the long column

of little steps

ascends, as if

 

no greater power could command

nor small urge arrest

the strident pattern

of controlled desire

 

while sleep conceals

the gnawing pang

daylight reveals the currents

that play with a pain

 

no two thoughts can unwind

without a third that questions

sweet reason

with a sneer

 

and so we live in danger

here and now

and cite past treason

to re-affirm weakness, as if

 

derision was the message

on a welcome mat

as we attempt

to douse the fire

 

and put quiet to bed

the questions

that linger in the threads

and fabric of scented pillows

 

 

so,  sleep well with demons

children please

your softly moulded bodies lay limp

without due diligence

 

as those dreams fade

mutate

and pass into a troubled, yet

forgotten history