All ferries are cancelled making way for the storm tied to their piers, rocking back and forth, back and forth ropes pulled tight, taut, no mail today, no fresh supplies this is Robinson Crusoe life lived alive in the 21st century a time set aside, cut off, forgotten by the rest of the World.
Only one man in history claimed " a giant leap for Mankind" while taking a small step for a Man and I think he was the first poet to walk on the Moon. ( his day job was an astronaut ) And he left his boot prints in the Moon dust as witness to his first hand experience to his poetry.
heard the song of Whales cries of children those boasting of conquest songs of birds the calls of war innocent bystanders listened to hatred blocked out all malice that so to enter beauty and having arrived I bid you welcome.
There is a diagnosis where the constant need to write is one of the major symptoms - a mental illness I do not mind if this is true of myself as long as I am not being a constant stalker, like some....
a childs view looking up at this very bearded chin- where there is no chin- looks in wonder- and I understand- the barrier is breached by sweets- and the child looks at me- a living moving teddy bear
neighbours newest meeting at the shop... they have five now!
I send up my prayer at rocket speed and the answer parachutes down sedately, -in no hurry but at a pace I can accommodate and my finite self can understand, while the caresses of peace on my soul, can last the whole day through.
rain hits the window a shower of tapping organised wet blown by wind force from out the cosmos somewhere deep in the mind the collective observations and organised dust particles blown together seemingly random weathered rocks crawling out the waters mineralised and breathing
someone I heard from the other side of the World liked late night conversations Poets being wordsmiths and words being their currency I thought I would put her out of her silent misery A poetess for sure from what I read of her work She can sit back now in her retirement knowing we will talk about her poetry and forever try to unpack her thought process while drinking cocktails and eating sausages
Buttercups have burst filling their cups held out to the Sun and drink of clouds their yellow chosen gowns- and crowns irresistible to Bees busy making golden- filled cones of honey yellow shouts to the world come see how I have been chosen and dressed by the hand of nature
Day rolled out I rolled over many times Then the strength of day remembered gently coaxing Me to rise filled muscles and mind To take more proactive part.
into loves forging flame I offer my heart to burn all the dross of attachment to fall away from me and to be free again to love a pure love transparent flame of blue and green and red the dawning of a new day.
give me one sentence and I will sing outa tune to earth and heaven the long dead newly wed and those about to divorce love is the colour of my money the only real currency acceptable throughout all history love is my food, water and rest, the bed I sleep on the confusion of facts and all those fairy stories ever told.
chickens, sheep with lambs, the occasional cow or two; all travelling down, or, across the road, not forgetting, Oyster catchers and Curlews birds of every hue and Humans riding wheels swerving in and out, out and in, as you do
Fire drips from my teeth I eat stars for breakfast and **** on planets like gobstoppers You don't see me I am far too big But when I reach you Planet Earth Your time has come