Heralded 

March 21, 2016

  
Autumn just drifted in,

With its bright evening glow,

A swaying shop sign;

Sorry, we’re closed.

Winter is about to begin

Lip sync

November 2, 2015

Where does contentment lie,
When lips crave,
Or say goodbye?
Where the pillowy comfort,
Of the simple kiss,
Asking nothing,
But a wisp of your breath?

A mere puck of a sound,
Conveying more than any weighty tome,
Or the empty wind of words,
Spoken between the loneliness,
Felt only in a bed for two

Scrapped

August 29, 2015

Watching it go,
Last week’s treasure,
Now mere clutter,

And so did she go,

I hoped,

But not even a whimper.

The Gardener

June 16, 2015
A gift was dropped in my heart,
Hardly discernible, it was so tiny,
I stumbled through days,
Happy in beauty,
Taking my time,
I studied flowers one minute,
Marveled at clouds the next,
Rapt in the pleasures life brings,
Naught but an inkling,
It pushed from within,
’til cracks did appear,
Light seeped in,
And all the pleasure,
Of worldly things,
Became a dark dream,
So I rallied my defences,
Stretched my imagination,
To the bounds of the extreme.
I created stories in my mind,
Of what should have been,
And on the cracks,
I poured salvation,
Wine by the bottle,
To slow their advance,
As darkness descended,
It was too little, too late.
But still I fought on,
Against these dastardly cracks,
I feared for my life,
All seemed lost,
I had to concede,
So I lashed out in anger,
At this insidious undoing,
But the strangest thing happened,
As I lay in apathy,
Not wanting to die,
Yet no will to live either,
Light filtered out,
And touched every fibre,
While I watched in wonder,
How could this be?
Attention turned inward,
I examined my heart,
So damaged (I imagined),
But I found no cracks,
And where I’d imagined holes,
Shining windows,
Offering peace and solace,
In each a reflection,
A patient semblance,
With a gentle smile,
And bright shining eyes,
Holding aloft,
In strong calloused hands,
The darkest of my fears,
The loudest of my doubts,
And all my perceived misdeeds,
A face full of love,
Tending the weeds.

Hunter

May 11, 2015

  
I don’t seek out beauty,

I simply find it,

In unlikely places,

The comic irony;

It’s always where I expect it to be!

Archery

May 10, 2015

No Cupid,

My arrows are not for hearts,

It’s wild nature I seek,

Where the spirits lie,

Hidden in glades,

Surrounded by madness,

Besieged by clawing hands,

And glazed eyes,

They’re more animal than I,

With my muddy feet,

And soot stained cheeks,

I pass unseen,

In their starched world,

Where people behave like animals,

And nature is their godless feast,

I wear duality like a cloak,

A guise in which I hunt lost beasts,

While it’s wild hearts I seek.

Wide eyed

May 7, 2015

You stole the tears from my eyes

When your lips touched mine

Leaving behind

A clarity so divine

I would have them back again

That I might cry

Erotic discourse

May 5, 2015

I’m alive in a sensual world,
Where no thought can survive,
You’ll learn nothing from me,
In the words that I speak,
Instead taste the air that I breathe,
Savour my intention,
The erotic sensation,
Of gentle fingertips,
Writing a fateful script,
Rather than some crude finger-pointing reiteration,
Of eloquent words repeating dead ideals,
From some dead author’s crypt,
The only answers I’m interested in,
Are those imprinted on your questioning lips.

The heart of creation lies in darkness

May 5, 2015

Open hearted
in a sensual world,
Where cuts and bruises
cause no pain,
Rather a sacred recognition:
In grief there is liberation,
A torrent of colour,

As a creature of feeling,
Not thought,
Is it madness
to sit in darkness
with a smile on my face?

Have you contemplated the notion:
It’s not light that connects us,
That when your pulse races,
And your chest feels both tight and swollen,
It could be love,
Or fear,
Only if you care to name it,

In the absence of both,
What would your racing heart tell you?
Pay attention,

Can you face destruction?
Because somewhere we mistook
immortality for permanence,

The stars know this,

Do they burn merely to bring light,
In a world of mirrors and reflection,
Or because there is no creation
without destruction?

And if there’s truth in this,
how can you be different from a star,
a raging fire,
If they’re the source of all you are?

Shhhhh

April 29, 2015

The quiet is deep
Bottomless
A well of silence
That speaks to me

Of trees
And howling gales
Whispers to injustice
Shouts out beauty

A gossamer cocoon
In a world I’ve spun
Suspended from stars
That grind away in terrible magnificence

Feeding me lines
Which I scrawl in black ink
Filling space with darkness
A silken shroud for my quiet place

Those who sit still enough can see
The words are a void
Mere blank spaces

Those who know can see
I’m in the silence
And it’s there that they meet me


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