One day you will want to write in rhyme
When feathers burn in melting wax,
When the Sun comes too near your aching arms.
Will you feel you know so very much
As your graceless fall turns sea to foam.
One day you’ll match sound to the sound;
When logic’s strings finally snap.
All day your instruments remain un-tuned
As you search for one unexplained fact
To keep you free and likely alone.
The curse that kept me will knock your door
With parallel fingers of steel,
Will rip your throat to take the words that were,
Leaving you staring into the well
Wishing that things were not as they are.
When time stops, stands still, with folded arms,
When every flying thing falls down,
When the world collapses there is no room,
When you lose love lust you only song,
That day will you want to write in rhyme.
That day will you want to write in rhyme.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
Forgetting the glances,
the long dark drift
of glistening dewy webs
spread in the misty dawn
Sound as thin as air
Soft, like filmy frost
that rimes the windows
on icy mornings
A tune as quiet as breathing
labyrinths of colour
without landfall
or metaphor
Letting go
to idle and float
From the surf sea sands
Into the fathomless ocean
No strut or clasp
but in its place,
the soul can rise
in all the washing wonder of the world
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC
This wild being,
this State of flux,
this simmering smear
flooding the pure empty nothing.
This mess of splintering sparks
showering out of the deep dark
like dotted dice in awkward tumbles.
This misfit unfolding of stuff
with its difficult excitements,
dimensions and velocities,
describing laws of gravity
and the functions of our physics.
This formal structure of strictures
that fumbles at the hems of ghosts
now shocks the senses with corners
and the hard fabric of substance
This insignificant star dust
blustering in boiling eddies
disrupting the vague vacuum
with material surfaces
that jar against the ever present tense
This sprawling and reddening shift
of blue sky light brimming in domes
This semblance of solidity
This striving galactic ocean
beyond all forms of measurement
All this
and yet each night I sleep
in the disassembly of dreams
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
On the motorway
a signpost
to the place where last I left you
Behind a trap of traffic cones,
and excavated road-works
the junction lay empty and irrelevant
But I saw you there
in the spring evening
beneath the stone and clay and roses
I thought to sink into the rich deep earth
to find the rambling silk of your voice
and embrace you in your long stillness
Yet pulled away through these dark diggings
Improvements you will never see
ways you’ll never know by name
I trace my travelling years
And lose the thread of our short remembered days
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 4:29 AM UTC
So when can I see you again
and when can I see you?
When can I ruffle your vague skirts
into a turmoil of waves
on the flustered reach of your thighs?
When can I lean my breath
against your ear to brush those drums
with my feathering voice?
When again can I kiss
the flagrant mischief of your mouth
or fever my fingers
in the dark arches of your form
I want to be alone with you
in your revelation
and falter at the flesh revealed
Can I undo your clothes and leave
Strewn puddles of patterns
like islands in the carpet seas?
Shall I take you naked
Into the broiling avalanche
Storming down your senses
to feel the brightening rapture
of your thunderous cries?
In a dance of few steps
shall I press my weight against you
and trace your pulsing blood
to find the riot in your nerves
beneath the careful veils
of your long attended beauty?
I seek subversive grace
and dream of your disheveled hair
When?
.
Or if you would prefer
I could take you to the movies
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
The ****** mountain suffers
The limp and empty rope
Of the falling novice
Like an impertinent scar.
Unruffled by the tension
Of his fingers clinging
She is unresponsive
To his young chattering bravery
Mad with lust and fear he tears
Her undeveloped frock
Buttons of ice rain down
Falling hands grip lose threads of snow
Her beauty needs a wild man
A sensual avalanche
Whose passion would fill her aching reach
With the bright substance of his wayward dreams.
One whose driving force ignores
The pretence of her slopes
And in whose thunderous arms
She learns the dance of hammering drums.
Now her body hugs the ground
Her open arms are wide
for all the weight of climbers
To mount her firm and passive shoulders
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Floating like velvet
in warm summer ruffles
lolling carelessly.
Idle breezes drift,
through open windows
traces of honeysuckle
The lethargic drone
of wasping afternoons
the befuddled trance
The holy divide
of consciousness and cloud.
the hazy glaze.
Drowsy dislocation
slight breath of a sated soul.
The heavy heat.
After planting
before reaping,
vegetable growth.
The waiting time
The moored vessels
limpid in the dog watches
Would you lay
in humming gladness
like motionless oceans?
Fleshing the harvest
the pregnant swell of seed
the ripe fields flushing.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
An eruption of exuberance
To thrill the dawn with light
And dance flowers in the breeze,
Still fresh from the bed's wallow.
To break the snoring drift
Towards the eye glistening moment of waking.
And then all these senses rush at once
To ferret and fidget the confines of my flesh
To dance their whirligig explosions in my blood
With eager threads of excitement pulsing in my skin
To chase the schoolboy morning
beyond the hills
With rattling bicycles on muddy trails.
I stutter out the flush and form in words
Darting thus and fro across the screen
like electric jangling
From the dangling fingers
Wrangling with the hammering keys
As if these magic notions could fluster
Beyond the moments of my joy.
My soul aches to be OUT THERE!
Beyond those moments of joy
Beyond the sleeping bedrooms
Beyond the bicycles
Beyond the hills, and flowers and sky
I want to spiral like galaxies
And dance with planets on the pin cushion dark
Sparkled with stars and clustered nebulae.
I really can’t believe, sometimes,
That all this sense of being
Could be contained in me.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:36 AM UTC
Today you leave
For your home and family
You tread a star-struck path across northern skies
Yet remember one
Who, in tears, leaves you happily
For he still feels your sanctuary
And you my love
With several splendours shining
Were I to stain the sound of your flesh with my words
Then I would drink deep on those tears
To leave you smiling
In the hot mid-summer’s morning
If words could change
I would turn them into love
To let your body sparkle at this leaving
And I would make this place a bed
With no roof above
But changeless words are not enough
Sometime? Later?
Will we meet on avenues?
Will we once more naked lay inside that peace
As lovers in a gangling heap
When the loving’s through
Will we then say, “we did it too.”(1)
1 We Did It is a poem by Yehuda Amichai and well worth reading
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
From giddy heights I fell
as angels might fall,
Like wishing stars across the velvet skies,
Falling for a thousand years
And feathering your retina with stardust.
Beyond this ocean of time
Where the heart beats like whale-song
And the lungs rise and drift like daylight.
How many angels have danced like may-fly
In the deep chocolate of your eyes?
Tonight the drool of my words
Are shimmering dreams and invention.
I drizzle like hot fudge on frozen vanilla
and allow the tumbling rivers of sweetness
to caress the butterfly vibrancy of your drums
The way a wave would love the shore
But forever belong to the sea
.
Yes, to dance in your ears like drums
And to dance in your eyes like fire
The dance of my fingers
and my faltering breath
Almost grasp that magic light
In the unrecorded fathoms of your flesh
As if my being responds to night,
I seek the cool and dark places
Where my heart can lay spellbound….
Waiting for the land
Like a wave,
Like an Angel falling
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC