A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.

MINE

All power is mine,
How then,
Find you cause
For idolatry,
And in my thinking,
Become blind?
All power is mine,
Then I am you,
And thinking
With my mind.

MAGIC

History is at once anchor and lighthouse,
Stable comfort and manacle,
Enlivened by the wand of present thought,
As black or white magic for humankind.

TIDINGS

The snow-white moon then slips and hides
Her face inside a black, lace shroud,
In sombre mood, to vex the tides,
Decides that magic be allowed,
A secret hex will spell the curse
To set an ocean in reverse,
Tugging wave-top silvered spray,
Demanding currents change their way.
When spent, her temper soon subsides,
Content, she glides from out the cloud.

EMPIRE



With deadly self protection,
Your right as regime,
Myths of justice,
False totems carved from stone,
Stone,
Squeezed from blood,
Deny and petrify,
Poison with sanctimony
Those who march to unfamiliar drum,
Consigned yet again
To museum-piece history,
Mausoleums built from stone,
Stone,
Squeezed from blood,
Bend now,
For the sake of all,
Be soft, be warm,
Blood may yield to mystery.
And pride descend at last,
That those towering walls
And cowering halls,
May befit their sanguine tone.

CURIOUS

Time glides along steadily, with a comforting security - like a snail.
Curious then - that we remember only footprints.

REGULATION


First watch,
A birthday gift,
The hour,
The minute,
Pointed out
By the plump,
Gloved hands
Of Mickey Mouse,
A smiling, red manacle
Slipped around my wrist,
Held up close,
To hear,
A fascinating heart,
Beating,
Deep inside,
My regular childhood,
Synchronized
By Disney.




TAKING TURNS



The nature of a wheel - to turn,
And only in turning its purpose reveal,
All who precede are followed,
And all who follow, lead.
No point to discern upon its rim
Other than our fancy find,
And then we must observe the same,
But opposite in kind,
All connected,
As heaven descends to earth
The eyes of earth are lifted up,
All in motion,
Dancing round an invisible centre of stillness,
Nothing greater than balance will allow.

LIGHTLY DOES IT

Light,
Winged messenger,
Illuminating reason,
Whose passion is
To fashion her,
As sight,
Scene,
And season.