Never to dance
Is Never to cry
Yet Never to chance
Is Never to fly

Always to wait
To Always consider
Is Always in limbo
Always a dither

So Open your mind
More open that heart
For when life's fully lived
Regrets will be sparse.

So tell me what you want to be
And what you think you need of me
For what you do
You will become
As habit makes it part of one

For habits grind and clearly shape
Rough edges smoothed,
some dreams may break
Then, from time to time
There’s someone who
Will melt or break a part of you
So once again your shape does change
Though it may feel you’re just the same

It may take another, looking on
To see the shape that you’ve become
So maybe that should be my role?
Some sort of yardstick of your soul?
But then again, I will change too
So perhaps we’d better muddle through
And focus on the spark inside
The flame that undiminished shines

And if, as said, that change is certain
It will never be the final curtain
So embrace the change in me and you
And love the flame that shines on through

Trickling tingles bubble, goaded from the verdant body
As a butterfly’s flutterings coax the flow
Widening and filling
With a gentle lapping of inlets
Ripples tease the reeds into turgid tremors
Merging to waves
Wave upon wave
Curves slide over curves
And at the Delta’s swollen, gaping breadth
Crests slip over craving crevices
Slapping froth in desperate gasps
Milking cruel spasms from the urgent need to reach escape
Until with turmoil resolved
A gentle calm inundates the great ocean of sleep.

The station Tannoy’s so polite,
Train’s here but late; commuter’s plight,
Doors opening, pushed to platform’s edge,
As the herd of bodies forms a hedge,
Will she be there?
A gap, way in, a scramble of feet,
The desperate scans for a vacant seat,
With a jolt and a whine we move away,
Packed with the faces of one more day,
Did she mean what she said?
Past fields and cuttings the city nears,
People gaze blankly, no smiles, no tears,
Blurred names on platforms pass with a rush,
London workers in etiquette’s hush,
But where to meet?
Slowing through tunnels, lean and rock,
Roll under the canopy, groan to a stop,
We pour from the doors like arterial bleeding,
Swept in the flow, haemorrhaged carriage receding,
By the trolley, she’d said
Moving fast, with their own motivations,
The eddy of souls takes me out of the station,
Pull out of the crowd, out of the flow,
Onwards they march to the tube lines below
But we just hold tight under J.K.’s fake signs,
And expression finds space,
Between the lines.

RD@2009

Am I just absurd
Or is it inbetween the words
That those tiny spaces shout
What this relationship’s about

The pause before the sigh
Or the sparkle in your eye
Just before you crack that smile
And once more put on the style
Of a life that’s just a breeze
And your role – of course, to please.

For I think it may be true
That, inbetween, you feel it too.

Five years ago
Upon this day
For “Training” I did go away
To London’s noisy buzzing heart
Then after I took in some Art
An hour’s stroll around the Tate
Came three o’clock and I’d not ate
So rang a friend who worked in town
“Fancy food?”
“Yes! - come on round”
“Place nearby at half past four”
At quarter past I’m at her door
So pasta, chat and many smiles
Nice to do once in a while.

So Five years pass
What comes my way?
Refresher training; exact same day
My friend had since set up alone
Another city, laptop, phone
If lunch seemed off, don’t pity me,
For strangely synchronicity
Means the venue’s somewhere new
This course has moved to her town too.
So I make the call hoping to see
If this five year anniversary
Can be repeated as before
She agrees, we’ll meet at four.
When course is done, I make my way
Not noticing it’s damp that day
Slip on the path, my arm goes numb
And “****** it!”; a broken thumb
So instead of chats and smiles and tea
I spend the time in “A & E”
Rang my friend , “I slipped on grass”
With stifled laugh, “You silly ****”

And the course that damaged me so gravely?
A specialist branch of “Health & Safety” :)

RD©2014

Do you know the world unseen?
The one that every human being
Takes for granted every day
As they go about their work or play

For I speak of things like morning mist
The flower in the breeze that twists
The way some clouds evaporate
Or that flake of rust on the old front gate
The struggling mum who needs a rest
The logo on her child’s vest
The smile that means “I noticed you”
A kiss that’s meant for no one’s view

For all these things are here to see
Yet focussed minds just cannot be
Sensitive to all that’s there
For overload would bring to bear
Such cacophony of life’s rich vein
That most just choose to see the same.

The exceptions, friends, are me and you
Who take the time, like poets do.


RD©2014