'I AM INFINITAS!"

here is
our wooden
O

it is
our zero
yellow

there is a 7
...but
it is missing

the puppy's
chewing
an orange 2

"Puppy...
. . .puppy
noooo!!!!"

the admonished
puppy
looks astonished

"This is a good
chew this orange 2."
it whimpers

she her self is four
and
...a little bit more

"When will I be
this one?"
"That's an eight!" I tell her

"It will take you four more years...
...of being you
to be it!"

The 8 has fallen
shhhh on its side asleep
...become an infinity

"Ahhh...infinitas!"
my little infant this
is what...you really are.

this unboundedness
of you
an infinity of you

forever after when
asked what age she is
she'd always answer

with a hearty laugh.
'I AM
INFINITAS!"

*

She had danced and sung and sung and danced. Now she was tired she retired to her favourite place...climbing up on my lap and treadling like a kitten she settled down to watch Kirk Douglas with me. Kirk was being Spartacus and everyone was claiming to be him at this juncture. She had heard the famous line as "I AM SPARK PLUGS!" and now rested from her exertions of watching and trying to make sense of a Hollywood movie...she ran around all over again dancing and singing: "I'M SPARK PLUGS...NO I'M SPAR K PLUGS!"

I used to teach her her letters and her numbers by means of a peashooter and wooden coloured alphabet and gaudy colourful numbers. Rather like Sir Thomas Moore teaching his daughters their letters by means of archery. The 8 lying down and having a rest and becoming an infinity symbol led to her next great statement which she always loved to proclaim as her little self identity..."I....AM...INFINITAS!"

how many are trapped
with the thoughts that we have
not caring to venture
beyond what's been said

take it as gospel
from those we don't know
gossip and slander
the stirring of souls

a boat with no sail
caught up in the wave
no conviction or will
just do as they say

minds and mouths move
with the pulling of strings
the slightest of tugs
makes us dance and sing

seems we were born
for this circus of sorts
kissing the ring
of those that hold court

particular pawns
in this peculiar game
is there a way to opt out
or are we...Too Late

The word I have to keep .
Spelled with an 'o' after the "t'  because I haven't got a leg to stand on .

my evening walk,

i barely remember a thing.

a blur of street lamps polluting the night sky full of stars with names we can't pronounce...

you is all that occupies my mind now.

i hope that is okay

is that okay? . . .

i haven't forgotten about you

without me,

but me without you

i have.

an unthinkable time

an unbearable thought

an uncomfortable feeling.

i wasn't sure what i wanted then,

but i'm sure now that i don't want your feelings to ever change.

i don't know my way back yet

but i will.

& when i do i promise i will let you know...

i don't know what it is yet

but there's something about you

that pulls me into your orbit

& something about me

that draws you closer into my gravity...

"you can't have one without the other"

we don't know what it is yet,

but when we do,

we'll let each other know.

Does my face appear in a crowd when you can’t find anyone else? Does your thumb open Snapchat by memory, waiting for my name to pop up? Do you think about that night when you lie in bed, alone, skinless, when there’s no one around? Does your sweater still smell of my perfume? Does your wallet still stow away my photo? Do you hesitate before saying my name like it’s a curse? Do all of your songs drip with my name? Do you even remember me at all?

With just
Two words to use
To say the things I must
I find my dictionary closed.
I’m lost.

A ghost
In search of words
That hide from Poet’s pens
And make contact impossible
For friends.
            ljm

i heard a robin sing in the winter snow
his lovely christmas song that gave my heart a glow
sticking out his chest when the notes got high
as he sang to me his christmas lullaby

every note in tune with a lovely melody
made me feel so happy set my spirit free
i wont forget that day or his lullaby
something i will remember till the day i die

when his song was over in to the air he flew
way up high above in the sky so blue
i gave a little wave as i said goodbye
as i said thankyou with a teardrop in my eye

The Buddhist practice is compassion
And avoidance of desire
Meditate in silence

Gandalf: Serve the Secret Fire.