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Ken Apr 2021
Growth needs both
Rain and sun
by the bright green bud
I am told
Embrace the dark
Endure the sharp
bitter wind
Through its gusts
clattering branches
Welcome the grey
as much as the gold
Ken Dec 2016
The laughter of leaves
whisper testament
over cool caverns,
ancient moss
the absurdity of clocks
dashed upon rocks
while they dance,
backlit with sunglow,
at the true speed
of life
daring us to defy
the timeless tapestry
in which all are woven
Do stones large and small
not rustle
like leaves
in the eye of the mountain?
and is the leaf not as solid
as stone, to the aphid?
And what lives between
two lover-friends?
It is no brief candle
measured with ticks
on numbered dials
It moves not with the flash
of a single spark
Nor with the slow glow
of dawn
In gentle illumination
it is a soft gentle kiss
drifting on mist,
and it moves
at the speed of love,
with the rhythm of life

Copyright © 2016 K. Rush
Ken Feb 2016
You are my coral sky
and all that lies beneath it
Roughness, softness,
pain and ease
I hear the bitter winds
and the birdsongs both
Rain on me
or bathe me in sun
You are my coral sky
bright or diffuse
you light me

I don't want
to rescue you
I just want to be
the cleft, the cut
in the rocky *****
ready for your hand
or a foothold
simply there
at the moment
when you need
to centre
You are my earth
how could I be less
Rest on me while
you catch your breath
when you look up
and out
to that coral sky
I just want to be
there with you
to share the view

copyright © 2016 Ken Rush
Ken Feb 2016
Every colour of dawn
nameless, holding
all my summer rains
in your eyes
every autumn smile
the sacred sound
of winter's snow
on your shoulders
the taste of
spring dewdrops
on your skin
every storm
held within
the hottest sun
in your touch
the strongest wind
the softest breeze
in your voice
Every moon
blade of grass
rises and grows
in the infinite
your presence
I drink from you
nectar of this life
my thirst
never slaked
and I love how
you hold your cup
for me
Ken Jan 2016
She sits alone with two antique clocks
one of water, the other of sand
I dare ask if she likes watches
Only the older, she replies,
they hold the infinity of time specious
In her words an elemental charm
and the risk of all enigmas
Then in contralto voice she adds
and now my name is simply K
and I think of Kafka's leopards
breaking into the temple to drink
from the sacrificial amphorae
My soul writes in ancient dialect
feeling hers close with mine
while I watch her body
from eternity in ****** key
a window of flavoured amethyst fire
progressive surrender
the crossing of a desert
the dropping of clothes and masks
the thin veil remains yet unbreached
the original time of the first blood
still under the anvil of desire
so rarely given the offer of this grace
the membrane of the soul to be loved
with pain, with pleasure, with totality
Ken Jan 2016
You told me
it had no legs
it was time
to let it go
It was such a love
as I had never known 
bright and whole
as the full moon
You crippled it
at birth 
kept it hidden 
allowing only enough 
to keep it breathing 
while hiding it 
in shame
Abandoning it
then returning 
again, and again 
while I cradled 
its tiny heart
I refused
to let it stop beating
though it had died 
so long ago 
I refused to see
it had been crushed
under the weight 
of fear
in its infancy 
by tender words
in a resolve
to nurture and grow 
full of hope
Then forgotten
as an addict’s promise
broken by words
left as a burden 
to the freedom 
that had always
been there for you 
It was crippled 
but I was blind
raw and unedited, first (and last) draft
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