rainfall on a monday morning

 

rainfall on a manday morning.pic-001

 

one son has gone to view a property in Peterborough

the other son went to work in Surbiton

and here I am wondering about Win Wong

a Chinaman I met on holiday in the Maldives

What is going on in my  head?

how goes it as I sit with my coffee in a quiet house

my wife about to go to work

and I am left with the simple task of walking the dog-

I’ll probably go to Sunbury

the earth it seems is spinning on it’s own head-strong celestial axis

and me- I’m powerless as I recall the Tuna Win Wong caught

on a strip of line with one fatal hook

that my wife and I ate that night

on an atoll in the Indian ocean

one night that seems so far away that I

may be still in the land of dreams but

‘one last thing’, she says as she goes

‘please put out the bin, it smells’

Shock in Awe

Shock in Awe

Shock in Awe

Shock in Awe

 

He spoke to me of grace

And said it was ‘second-hand’

 

I found that hard to understand

When the words came so easily

 

The air he used he said was spent

Just turned and turned around

 

A soft breeze

That could threaten storms

 

And there I was, as if

In the presence of a prophet

 

Spell-bound in admiration

For a weaver of thoughts

 

But he just smiled and said,

‘ It’s a wonderful thing’

 

And left me flailing

In an alphabet. Like a dope.

On wanting more than there can ever be

 

conscience cannot escape

conscience cannot escape

There is nothing more to do

‘cept listen

For trouble is all around

And I, in family

Strive for more

Yet nowhere find

Ears that listen

So I can communicate my gifts

All I seem to get is noise

Those far off echoes of collisions

I dimly know of

Those histories of lost opportunities

Dying breaths so low on smiles

And I, in oneness

Am smaller always in adversity

Fog-bound in night time scenery

Inept it seems

Still, now. A parent adrift

With cautious tales

And care on a drip

For so much feeds resentment

And so much will slip away

Without my knowing it

And then somehow

In the face to face

I shall sense

An opportunity to shine

As sorrows fade like their grim cousins

Those shrouded minds alert to sparks

Amid the rancour and vapours

That spent hostility lays’ down

Forgetting. Rapturously forgetting casual pain

Injuries inflicted. Left to freeze

So only history will unearth the truth

To speak well of victims

And all the quiet ones

Who came along and died.