Sweet things

 

Sweet things

Sweet things

That white enclosing space

An infinity of shelter

A blind default

Will sometimes mock me

Make faces

When I am inert

 

But, forced ink

Makes a stain

And issues to reason

On the unthinkable blankness

That a naked page offers

In all its’ purity

 

Somehow stretched sinews

Inveigle the tangled thoughts

To draw shapes

That other minds may interpret

And, so, striking a languorous pose

Assume the sweet essence as their own

Duke’s Head Passage

Duke's Head Passage

Duke’s Head Passage

 

Who will come to pass

Through this bright arch

Safe passage between the Duke’s Head

And Henry’s Royal Park

Where walkers exchange pleasantries

And dogs acknowledge their own formalities

 

Who will mark time as seasons change

And speculate on the weather

On clothes and family matters

As they pass yet another familiar face

Take note of difference, of growth

Of time passing and fading light

 

Yet all the time

As black and white dissolves

Roiling clouds and personal moods

Exchange their subconscious wares

This path will be resolute

A stoic witness to familiar traffic

Man O’ War

Man O' War

Man O’ War

Man O’ War

 

Stragglers that languish

In the sea of consciousness

Drift and hope, almost gripped

By ennui

Though sometimes the strands of thought

Go fishing and drag watery membranes

Against a flowing tide of loss

To snare or snatch at luminescence

 

Electric sparks of colour

 

Illuminate a word or thought

And travel quickly to the lode

That mother ship

Where all the others jostle

In their queues of confusion

Simpering and damp with memory

Oh, I am host to all of those

Nervous tics

 

Electric sparks of colour

 

Sucked-up through tendrils

That tremble on the oceans currents

As dreams weave amongst the fathoms

Forever present in the swell

And ready to vanish on a tide

With the broiling enigma

In a long tangle

Of DNA

 

Electric sparks of colour