recurrence

Recurrence. pic for poem.

 

what price all this useless beauty

when dreams recall

the drowning man

in folded blankets

and how the dark recoils

in strangled places

exposing flaws

on naked skin

and whispers shout

with mocking sounds

behind closed doors

in deep, deep wells

so only now

one might feel

euphoria

closing in

Day tripper

 

Day tripper. pic for poem

somewhere else

the sun shines

a person smiles

 

 so today I am drawn

to over there

where they breath different air

 

 because this sky frowns

blank and grey and sobbing

I am being robbed

 

 by a rolling crescendo

of  unruly  water

 that parades noisily on glass

 

 mocking all the barriers

 like stone, metal, or any canopy

that would forbid it

 

but still I long

for sunshine

and warm, wet lips

 

somewhere else

that will harbour me

in moments like this

Clouds

CLOUDS. poem. pic

 

a rubble strewn sky of

white diaphanous handkerchiefs

wind-blown and shambling

against the blue that knows no distance

mocks me here, anchored by gravity

and my small, monotonous thoughts

but those clouds are drapes to a vision

I can linger in

like that Robin that rests for a fraction

on a branch so near to me

that I imagine he wishes to speak

and share with me a moment so intimate

we both make a vow of secrecy

Storm

Storm. pic

 

 

The light is wicked

lascivious in its portents of fear

laying waste to familiar sights

it mocks

as we retreat

a blitzkrieg emerging rudely

from some previous complacency

 

All along the coast

a frustrated tsunami  rehearses

with a roiling fist the desecration

it would unleash

if everything were to come together

in a fusion that mankind  would recognize

as an answer to sleights.

Christopher

Christopher. Pic for poem

 

Shout. Scream

deny all knowledge of that dream

The distance yawns

and fills the void

with stale air and residues

of harm

that neglect will come to know

as regret

that cloying self-pity that hangs

on the rags of remorse

and renders even love

to shrug

and wonder why

 

My boy who is now a man

has drifted in that domain

and knows so little of me

save that I sired him

and hurt his mother cruelly

He finds forgiveness hard

Those blank years went down

in flames and hate

so only silence and darkness

could void the pain

but now I sense the permafrost

might thaw

and I may be allowed

to make some recompense

small reparations to the ship of love

in this slow cycle of drawing out

the heat from that scream

and venom from the shout

 

May soft lips form

around the eternity of air

 that sucks and strains to find

the letters that hide in space

and just might spell

an end to longing

White Out

White Out. Pic for poem

 

Look

how they glide on an ocean

those stick-men and women in suspense

on  surrendered snowflakes

so demure

they abase themselves to blades,

their pressure, cutting swathes

in arcs. A ballet for butchers

Those slopes. No place for feint hearts

for those that can, will, take a tilt at heaven

and those that can’t will tumble

on the  white-down drawn tight

as a sheet raised around the mountain’s flank

in that rare air

accentuating the blue above

Below, in the cleave of the valley

patience waits for spring

to draw down the melt and wash away

the lost and lingering shapes

their whispers and screams

their murmurs, echoes and endearments

as colours regain the heights

A virgin’s flight complete