mayday. mayday

mayday. pic for poem

 

snow is falling with stalled gravity

ponderous in white

a gift we’re told, from Russia

whose flakes stutter in our shocked air

inscrutable as they land

whispering in thick accents

and huddling in a carpet of nonchalant threats

on our lawns whose thoughts

have already turned to spring

as shocked daffodils blanch at the intrusion

dog walkers assemble to dissemble

that the biggest ‘dump’ will be on Thursday

and so we all return to base

 and wait

for everything we ever said

to come true

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

patient

Patient

like an atom adrift

in this vast body of parts

failing somehow

and all gathered because

one clock was an hour behind

another advanced by the same amount

‘nil by mouth’

time becomes obstinate

a mocking chant

not that of monks

no abeyance to humility

because the institution grinds away

at those within

with a remorseless appetite

habitually uncouth

and promising, always promising

an outcome. A deliverance.