Clouds were gathering for trouble,
Agitated,
Curled with grey
As I walked across the park today,
The scent of the grass,
Freshly mown,
Sugared the air
And lifted a playful bird,
Softly, sweetly,
Gently buffeting
On its way.
Behind the wall,
A hedge -
Tall and thick,
Bowls, nudged
The long jack - click,
To well mannered uproar,
Underplayed,
In an afternoon,
Lacking perfection.
Until my yearnings
Are silenced
By the breeze,
A bidding from the trees,
Whispering their pledge
To quieten me,
That I should listen,
More.
HOMOLOGY
Tentacles of longing,
Stretching out,
Blindly,
Into the murky unknown,
A sometimes alien world
Of unfamiliar
And paradox,
Reaching,
Praying,
Stumbling,
Suddenly a touch,
A tender warmth,
A hand that holds
But does not grasp.
Beneath a dark horizon,
Undeniably and assuredly,
Arising like the morning sun
A glowing,
A growing,
Filling the landscape
Of the soul,
A knowing,
Here is a heart
That feels like home.
Stretching out,
Blindly,
Into the murky unknown,
A sometimes alien world
Of unfamiliar
And paradox,
Reaching,
Praying,
Stumbling,
Suddenly a touch,
A tender warmth,
A hand that holds
But does not grasp.
Beneath a dark horizon,
Undeniably and assuredly,
Arising like the morning sun
A glowing,
A growing,
Filling the landscape
Of the soul,
A knowing,
Here is a heart
That feels like home.
SEA AND SAND
King Canute
And Dorian Gray
As ghostly spirits,
Met one day,
And hand in hand
For company
They walked the sand,
Then swum the sea,
And no dispute
Between them lay,
A new agreement
Holding sway
As they walked the sand
Then swum the sea,
History
And fantasy,
Both resolute
In such a way
That neither cared
What folk might say,
For fact
And fabled mystery
With sea and sand
Did quite agree
That time, nor tide
Will stand aside,
For common man
Or Majesty.
And Dorian Gray
As ghostly spirits,
Met one day,
And hand in hand
For company
They walked the sand,
Then swum the sea,
And no dispute
Between them lay,
A new agreement
Holding sway
As they walked the sand
Then swum the sea,
History
And fantasy,
Both resolute
In such a way
That neither cared
What folk might say,
For fact
And fabled mystery
With sea and sand
Did quite agree
That time, nor tide
Will stand aside,
For common man
Or Majesty.
ZEN
The Zen garden
A moment of stillness
Petrified in time
Ripples in the gravel
So devotionally raked
Halted in their disturbance
Caught in mid pace
Shades of grey
The middle path they say
Between black and white
Half the way to certainty
Worn smooth
By mountain torrents
Quite at ease
Though far from home
The centrepiece
A dome of stone
Frozen
Flexing its polished back
Like a cat
A glimpse perhaps
A crack in continuity
A portal for intuition
Sentient feeling
Knowledge and will
Always existed
Soon after
That first long
Wistful sigh
When space
Clotted into worlds
Before the gardener came
To rake and tend
Were stones the guardians
Of awareness
Perfectly at one
Silent and sure
Today tomorrow
And evermore
LESSONS IN BINARY
Can there be
Any simpler than one,
Or more profound than nothing,
The cold mirror
On which one breathes?
What can there be
Dearer than one,
Clearer, more than zero?
Whose circle,
Endless,
At no point begun,
Is, oh, so simple,
By just being one.
Any simpler than one,
Or more profound than nothing,
The cold mirror
On which one breathes?
What can there be
Dearer than one,
Clearer, more than zero?
Whose circle,
Endless,
At no point begun,
Is, oh, so simple,
By just being one.
THIS
It is this silence
That contains me,
A vessel
Without walls,
In a stillness
Beyond the memory
Of dreams,
Knowing
Forgetfully,
The cusp
Of this moment
Without horizons,
Vanishing at will
To flow
Into every waiting heart,
To hold
Each empty hand,
How could there
Come an end
To this?
That contains me,
A vessel
Without walls,
In a stillness
Beyond the memory
Of dreams,
Knowing
Forgetfully,
The cusp
Of this moment
Without horizons,
Vanishing at will
To flow
Into every waiting heart,
To hold
Each empty hand,
How could there
Come an end
To this?
NAMING THE BABY
Perhaps I am already buried,
Blinded by obsessions,
Compulsions,
Large and small -
Lost in a fantasy world
Polarised strands of perception,
Pathetically incomplete.
Imprisoned in a cubic cell,
Home-grown,
A cocoon,
Self-spun,
The roof,
The floor,
There is no door,
And what is a window
But a see-through wall?
Could there be more
To learn
By not looking
At all,
Through the sticky, thick,
Congealing threads
Of my own beliefs?
Setting,
In an instant,
As if by command
Of a most obedient genie,
Into binding reality.
Perhaps there is another way.
To feel this life
Instead of thinking it,
Ignoring the shell,
Tasting the meat,
Back to basics,
Before I was taught,
Clever,
Before my innate & total bliss
Was scattered
Along the wayside
In my hasty pursuit
Of success.
The thing is -
What do we name the baby?
Blinded by obsessions,
Compulsions,
Large and small -
Lost in a fantasy world
Polarised strands of perception,
Pathetically incomplete.
Imprisoned in a cubic cell,
Home-grown,
A cocoon,
Self-spun,
The roof,
The floor,
There is no door,
And what is a window
But a see-through wall?
Could there be more
To learn
By not looking
At all,
Through the sticky, thick,
Congealing threads
Of my own beliefs?
Setting,
In an instant,
As if by command
Of a most obedient genie,
Into binding reality.
Perhaps there is another way.
To feel this life
Instead of thinking it,
Ignoring the shell,
Tasting the meat,
Back to basics,
Before I was taught,
Clever,
Before my innate & total bliss
Was scattered
Along the wayside
In my hasty pursuit
Of success.
The thing is -
What do we name the baby?
SHOOTING STAR
Ours will be
No shooting star
To burn up soon,
Without a trace,
Or like the moon
That shines afar,
No smile upon her face,
But as the sun
So warm, so bright,
Our days are spun
With rays of light,
Threads of fire,
Woven gold,
Young love's desire
While hearts grow old.
No shooting star
To burn up soon,
Without a trace,
Or like the moon
That shines afar,
No smile upon her face,
But as the sun
So warm, so bright,
Our days are spun
With rays of light,
Threads of fire,
Woven gold,
Young love's desire
While hearts grow old.
ABUNDANCE
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Watch me, as I start to fall,
Although I love not my reflection,
I'm besotted by perception,
As if the spaces in between
Demand the separation seen.
Thus, with arms full do I carry
That which unity would marry,
Gifts abundantly received,
All duly labelled to deceive,
For quantity to naught amounts,
Forgetful of the thought that counts.
Watch me, as I start to fall,
Although I love not my reflection,
I'm besotted by perception,
As if the spaces in between
Demand the separation seen.
Thus, with arms full do I carry
That which unity would marry,
Gifts abundantly received,
All duly labelled to deceive,
For quantity to naught amounts,
Forgetful of the thought that counts.
HOWLING AT THE MOON
Once more, I'm left here,
Howling at the moon,
The elusive scent of love
That so captivated me,
Broken up,
Dispersed,
On the winds of uncertainty.
That call I hear in answer,
Is it the soft voice of
A distant soul,
Or just my own faint echoes?
The last cold glimpse
Of the moon
Slips out of sight
Behind the enclosing
Silhouette of the mountains.
Darkeness,
Silence returns,
Save for the amused mockery
Of an occasional night bird,
Questioning my wisdom.
Howling at the moon,
The elusive scent of love
That so captivated me,
Broken up,
Dispersed,
On the winds of uncertainty.
That call I hear in answer,
Is it the soft voice of
A distant soul,
Or just my own faint echoes?
The last cold glimpse
Of the moon
Slips out of sight
Behind the enclosing
Silhouette of the mountains.
Darkeness,
Silence returns,
Save for the amused mockery
Of an occasional night bird,
Questioning my wisdom.
CUCKOO
Sometimes silence is
The most painful sound to hear,
And absence,
The most intolerable guest to entertain,
Yet both those intruders more welcome are,
Their stark honesty more comforting,
Than fakery masquerading as faith,
Trust, fashioned from falsehood.
An imposter deep inside your heart,
A cuckoo cast from stone,
Nestled there upon stolen down,
Usurping true love from its throne.
The most painful sound to hear,
And absence,
The most intolerable guest to entertain,
Yet both those intruders more welcome are,
Their stark honesty more comforting,
Than fakery masquerading as faith,
Trust, fashioned from falsehood.
An imposter deep inside your heart,
A cuckoo cast from stone,
Nestled there upon stolen down,
Usurping true love from its throne.
DEWDROP
Upon the back of grassblade host,
Gently bowed,
No longer but a shapeless ghost
The breath of night is born
Into a jewel of light,
Restrained awhile,
Poised,
In the still untrodden dawn.
LOVING CUP
I hold a fragile cup in trembling hands,
Its content, this life's greatest treasure,
Fearful, lest one drop be spilled.
The loving cup, once passed, demands
Of care and trust, beyond all measure,
Until our thirsting hearts are filled.
ALICE
There'll be a time,
It comes to all
When just like Alice,
I recall,
Tiny things will loom up large,
Enormity appear so small,
And leaving this one life behind,
Where tunnel vision
Turned us blind,
We'll wonder why we did ignore
The questions that our spirit asks,
Choosing not to stand in awe
For favour of much lesser tasks,
Never seeing what Alice saw,
A human being,
In wonderland.
RADIO ELLA
Set within a cabinet
Of walnut and tortoiseshell,
A soft, amber glow
Discretely illuminates
The science of the dial.
Nimble fingers
Twist & spin around
The black, knurled,
Bakelite knob,
Cracking the safe,
Tuning in,
Surfing the sound.
Amidst an ocean of noise,
A golden island
Rich with organic warmth,
A sepia toned voice,
Smooth and sweet as honey,
Spilling its magic,
Through the art deco grille.
Of walnut and tortoiseshell,
A soft, amber glow
Discretely illuminates
The science of the dial.
Nimble fingers
Twist & spin around
The black, knurled,
Bakelite knob,
Cracking the safe,
Tuning in,
Surfing the sound.
Amidst an ocean of noise,
A golden island
Rich with organic warmth,
A sepia toned voice,
Smooth and sweet as honey,
Spilling its magic,
Through the art deco grille.