FUTURE KIND

The eyes of the future,

Looking back at me,

What do they see,

Those children.

Have I designed

A torturous maze,

In which they find

Their lives,

Their days,

Innocent hearts

That now so hopeful gleam,

Entrusting me,

With an unknown dream. 

POLITICS

Cut them down,

Those dusty puppets of reason,

Whose musty ventriloquism

Through flaky, painted smiles,

Is treason to the heart.

MY SAFE PLACE

The way in,

Not too tall,

That none may enter,

Standing,

Save for the child,

The inside

Carefully guarded

By a bow,

Beyond is blood,

Mud and wild,

Left as shoes

Outside the door,

Be seated,

Curl upon the floor,

Sharing breath,

The fire is warm,

Brightened by our offerings

Of kindness,

Safe from harm,

The invitation is to feel,

And in touching,

To reveal,

In gentle singing,

The whispering

Of heart to heart,

Resting,

Dreaming dreams

Of how to heal.

WIZARDRY

The bright, silvery steel of intention,

Ricochets into the machine,

Flipped and bounced,

With alarming bells and violent klaxons,

From cushioned pillars of expectation,

Propelled into traps,

Spring-loaded with doubt,

A short-lived game,

That dies to sarcastic fanfare,

And unforgettable, flashing neon,

Spelling tilt,

Guilt,

And frustration.

RING A RING

As growth rings the tree,
So for me,
Yet invisibly,
As memory,
And knowledge,
Fused at conception
In a cellular super nova,
Releasing another potent life,
Into orbit,
Around its own sun,
Its own, originating star,
The shining blueprint
Of its own design,
Streaming outwards,
To occupy space,
To dwell as time,
An emerald heart,
With sapphire mind,
Skin tight liberty,
And a furnace of gold,
The only reflection
I behold,
As growth pours in,
And life flows on,
Encircled by the snares
Of knowledge,
And memory,
Is of a light,
That is free,
To live and love,
As brightly,
As its imagination dares.

SNAKE

As the snake
May taste its tail,
So may we
Know time,
Neither ending
Nor ever begun,
Yet there,
Somewhere,
Between tail,
And tongue.

MY CAT

Why does my cat
Look me in the eyes?
What is it there,
That equally applies,
More so than to care
For the perils of feet,
That seem incomplete
With their strange lack of hair,
Or coats that change,
As do the skies?
Why does my cat
Look me in the eyes?

WHERE?

To where might we fall,

Releasing those taught, 

Moral guides,

To stare at lust,

With our heart's intent,

Not so much

The slaying of a dragon,

As holding hands with innocence,

Playing shadows,

On the wall.

MILLSTREAM MIDNIGHT

This body,

A mere token of my presence,

As the wind whispers its advance,

A secret splash,

Another presence

In the cold, black,  

Reflective calm

Of the wide mill stream,

Before me,

Now retired from industry, 

Resting in its own nature,

As am I,

In this moment,

Seeing,

Without looking,

Hearing,

Without listening,

Being,

Without trying,

As the trees dissolve

Their luminous,

Silver laced contour,

With the dark sky,

Unbothered by the clouds,

Yielding to the breeze,

The stream flows on,

Silently,

Only the reflection

Does not move,

But shimmers,

Pierced, occasionally,

With the silhouette

Of a drifting duck,

Or moorhen,

Whose wild cackles

I pretend not

To understand.

The lights softly glowing

Behind drawn curtains,

In a mansion,

Dwarfed,

By the nature

It gazes upon.

The tall poplar spires,

Hushing sentinels

Against a streaking

Orange hem.

An invisible midnight,

Has come,

And gone,

Even the church bell,

Missed its passing.

I slip back,

Into my rags,

My role,

And my car,

With only the mud

On my shoe,

To remind me

Of fairy tales.

INNOCENCE

Innocence, 

Sweet flower of bliss,

The perfect child,

In boundless meadow,

Perfectly wild,

Naught to lose,

And naught to gain,

Save the kiss

Of sun and rain,

Heeding not

The gardner's hand,

Nor in need

Of other land.

HOLDING PATTERN

As the sky
Contains its clouds,
And the ocean holds
Its breathing swell,
Gently,
We appear,
As mysterious strangers,
Different it seems,
In each other's dreams,
My home
Is your horizon,
My secrets,
Painted in your style,
Yet these are but
The sounds of silence,
The dance of stillness,
Shared,
For a while.

INVISIBLE

Our invisible self,
Both elephants,
And rooms,
The sorcerer,
And his brooms.

OVERTHROWN

That knowledge,
Which would usurp mystery
From its rightful throne,
Is an impostor.

QUEST

The single request,
Made from birth,
Since suckling breast,
Till laid in earth,
Is that you foretell
Much more than I,
To spell my worth,
Before I die.

CUPID

Thus it seems

That shattered dreams,

Will feel like broken hearts,

When they're but the ways

And ricochets,

Of Cupid,

And his darts.

TOUCH

Touch is a confirmation of unity,
Two sensations 
Only born 
When they meet as one, 
A metaphor
In the language of feeling  
Closest to our hearts.

FULL

When the ticking of the clock,
The gentle hum of the fridge,
The intermittent meow of the cat
Are framed by a silence,
When the glare of the reading lamp,
The colour of the desk,
The story in black on white,
Float like a fragile raft
On a sea of invisibility,
When the beating of my heart,
The tide of my breath,
The distance between laughter
And sorrow,
Appear before
A strange jury of knowing,
A vast peace descends,
A great love expands,
Time stands still,
And mystery reigns supreme.

AUTUMN

The dusky melancholy returns,
The brisk, smokey air,
Crisp to the sound,
Of falling leaves,
As we enclose ourselves,
Once more,
Within the comfort of hearth
And home,
Our harvest of dreams,
Their vapour
No longer met by playful sun,
Condense back into the heart,
Hiding again until,
Maybe,
Next year.

STRINGS

Just a whisper of welcome
Sweeps the cobwebs aside
From the heart,
All may touch me now,
My silence quickened
By every quivering message,
Each shimmering moment,
No longer a wish to hide,
But feel how grand,
To steal eternity,
Strand by strand.

RHYTHMS

Can we know 
The beat of light,
Within our breath,
Our day and night,
Seasoned circles
Around a sun,
Burning,
Turning,
All as One.