For Daf

For Daf

 

the clematis climbs in a hug

around the bushes and shrubs

and rises in a triumph around a conifer

like applause

A curtain call for this morning

while twin jet engines grind the air

on an ascending scale away from Heathrow

with a vow toward wherever it is they are promised

but down here, in our garden, I feel no resentment

not for the noise nor for those high flying dreams

because I am bound in this sumptuous scene

happy in May sunshine with cool air

on my naked skin,  newly cut grass glistening in the dew

and nothing much else to do

except perhaps to plant a kiss

on the cheek of a favoured friend

who has picked today, of all days

to celebrate

Always

Always. pic for poem

All visions are, as dreams

elided by the sting

of disappointment

They find horizons hemmed by lesser men

who languish at the frontiers

of all I ever wished for

so,

I glimpse perimeters

always

and know that I am contained

within this spirit world

of bloodsurge and ego

peeping at the possibilities

that sustain hope yet

always

a constraining hand will

by its’ magic

clench and keep me shy

of all that light

That Promised Land

always

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

I am better than that

I am better than that.

 

My mind is dismal

Sloth. The cloth that hugs at the fabric

Of my being

Squashes hope like bleeding fruit

A skein of flesh ready to go off

Corrode and seep

In danger of losing faith

 

Let me rise from this sepsis

Slough away the harmful cells

And burn just a little

Just a small gleam will do

For faith and reason

Must occupy minute spaces

Where lies and envy

 

Connive and corrupt in quiet assembly

With thieves and cowards in alleyways

That are dark and smell metallic

Like spilled blood

And yes, spare me the ooze

The leaking away and stench

Of a naked, hopeless thought

Threads

R.I.P

Threads

So, you are famous now

Though it was casual

Mentioned in an alley-way

‘He was found dead in bed’

 

The brutal truth

Is anecdotal

The particulars left to myth

We have our fading vision

 

For your fall was foreseen

By many of us

Who did try to help

When you were out of step

 

But now the game is up

We will honour you

In a thousand small ways

A thread of silence marks this spot