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

heartfelt. again

heartfelt. again

 

your message was lost

and found. in a puddle

the words you wrote now weep

 

that casual transition

from the heart

became a declaration in the dirt

 

do you know

it means more to me now

forlorn but found

 

because it is blessed

by providence and truth

it survives the wound

 

curling as it dries

on the mantelpiece

a resurrection of our bonds

 

the tear drops frozen in amber light

as the day closes around

everything I cannot lose

Looking for tense

looking for tense. pic

 

I sit on the fringes and think

that’s my problem

I try too hard

 

all the letters dance untamed

taunting me, as a Lion resists

it’s tamer

 

and in this circus of wills

under the dome and ropes

of a tent that exaggerates

 

each small loss of authority

until I am left spitting

uncouth fragments of the alphabet

 

at the mighty beast

I have imagined as a metaphor

in this ring of despair

Hello, again

Hello

 

come find me passion

maraud across my open spaces

my steppes, swept and dried

tinged and longing for

infinity

where an echo is out-run

where lines are drawn and forgotten

like desire that apes only

the very best moments.

All definition and certainty

subsumed in the haste

to consume a lavish meal.

drowned and spent

The residue. A crust

a lost love affair,

all misty

and so I go

to each new day

an addition. a loss, a stroke

an explosion of now.

equinox

equinox. pic

 

pearlescent light on down

glows softly white

the swan, regal in its habitat

glides on the mirror of last night’s dreams

oblivious

to all but history and her mate

today

coming on the back of time

which shifted seasons and stepped one hour back

so now the dark water sucks

the summer’s heat into its depths

and all of this the mute swan

reflects

Seconds out..

Seconds out.. pic for poem

 

 

there is a melting sadness in this process

of time slipping away, unberthing me

and slowly, inexorably, bleeding me of life

by small instants, lost moments and carelessness

 

no matter how diligent I am to stem the flow

the seconds count against me and the ring-man with his towel

and imprecations

are lost in the cries of a crowd that bays for yet more blood

 

deaf, dumb and blind to my predicament

their spittle and urgent desire require a sacrifice

to transcend the moment, dispel the ordinary

and suffer only gods to weep

 

and perhaps I glimpse the beauty in this savagery

of defeat

that this moment holds all of me

every damned thing, mine, to give away in this circle of

diminishing light