THE GATE SWINGS OPEN
( for Mary Frances )

We hang from
(albeit upside down)

now interlaced between
now balanced upon

the five-bar-gate
the river beyond calling our names.

This is the threshold
between lane and field.

We live only
in the moment

and so
forever.

Your dress falling
over your face

stifling giggles
gales of laughter

shaking us from our perch
like windfall apples.

An "Ouch!" and an "Ow!" later
and we are back upon

where we had
fallen from.

A Constable I could imagine
would have painted us

thus
in passing.

Our five-bar-gate
as much a part of us.

Even in this
over-grown now

I still smart
from the sting of its nettles

still taste the tang
of its baby strawberries

at its gnarled
wooden feet.

The gate open
into a world that is

...gone.

Captured in my imagination
by a Constable blur of paint

showing two blurs
that could be considered

us
children at play.

It hangs in my mind
in the gallery of memory.

The light slowly dying
only the laughter remains.

The thrush's song
threaded through the morning.

What can I say? Another one dead and gone away.
Lost to ignorance, or
Possibly blind to addictions hooked grip.
One day your dangling a toe
Just over the edge. The next,
Your staring up wondering
How you lost your footing. I could say he’s a ******, but
Lord knows the elixirs I have invented
To dispel the dark heart of my depression.

Though I stand stoic, life has taught me
To never shame a smile. The sun rises for the living, and
Dead men fall short of tomorrow.
The amorphous soul slips through the seams
Of hands grasping to hold. So, when death discards its cloak and
Swirls its specters all around me
I’ll raise up life like a guiding lantern
And
Step through existence with my convictions.

She bolts awake from nightmare’s fear
Her mind fumbles for the mask
Its visage calm, gaze cool and clear
Once in place no one will ask

Exhausted from her restless night
Escape routes all slammed shut
The knots already pulling tight
Deep down inside her gut

The enemy stand at their station
They circle round her bed
Anticipating her annihilation
The demons in her head

Her feet are not yet on the floor
But the battle has begun
Another endless day of war
She must fight, she cannot run

She glances quickly in the glass
Haunted eyes she cannot meet
The enemy charge takes the pass
Her soul in forced retreat

The mask will serve her well today
Its rigid smile conceals
The terror barely held at bay
The torment that she feels

She plants her banner on the mound
Though hopelessness holds sway
She grits her teeth and holds her ground
But the ******* make her pay

All day the battle rages on
But the mask remains in place
Though at her feet hell’s chasms yawn
The world sees not a trace

The conflict ebbs, her shoulders slump
No victory is claimed
She turns for home, trailing blood
Count her among the maimed

Return to camp yields no respite
Command’s duties have no end
Cares for her troops into the night
Strength's last measure she will spend

All her charges now in bed
Mask in hidden place she keeps
In resignation bows her head
And midst the dark, in silence weeps

Now when the camp lies silent
In night’s hush no pennant streams
She braces for coming violence
And girds for bloodshed in her dreams

I want to be a kick-*** poet
I want to write things people read
And then say “******* !”
I want to upset the apple-cart
And kick them as they roll away.

I want to write words that will make
The reader throw the book across the room-
Then send him to the garden shed
To find a pitchfork and a torch
And sturdy cloth to make a banner.

I want to be a kick-*** poet
And move the shutters off the hearts
Of those who have it locked away,
And open them to love again
In ways they never knew before.

I want to clarify it all
In phrases understandable
So everyone who reads the lines,
That know the way to touch their heart
Will find some magic hidden in my words

I want to be a kick-*** Poet
Who’s thoughts astound and move the world.
To be the one they  listen to
When all else gets lost in the noise
And I can maybe lead them home.
   ljm

What’s happening in the world today.
Wars everywhere.
People shooting people because of different faith,
greed for one little piece of land.
Missiles thrown at innocent women, children and men.

Once
A child grew up on conflict ground.
Saw all family and friends dying.
Born was the devil in him.
Only rage in a traumatized mind.
A planted seed without love.
Devil he will become.
Don’t you see.
Killing each other to have peace leads to nothing but loss.
Loss of love and loved ones.
Revenge leading to nothing but pain and end of everything
nothing has been gained.
Keep feeding hate with hate.
Wars will know no end.

Don’t throw bombs at innocent ones.
Children are just children wherever they’re from
No matter on which side of the borders they are.
Don’t you see you only create hate with what you do.
There is no faith that says go hurt
**** a child or a helpless man.

You can’t stop the hate with hate.
You can stop hate with nothing but love.
Please for once learn from the past.
You don’t have a winner in war.
You think that you might have won.
But there is that child somewhere
with rage in the heart.
And everything starts all over again.


Shell ✨🐚

THIS ROOM KEEPS TELLING ME LIES

ok...ok...I admit
sometimes I forget
& go & call you

and the telephone
remembers
that. . .

or there's everything in place
the room just as you left it
as if you had just stepped out of it

for a minute or so
soon...soon you will be
coming back . . .but: you're not

or your clothes
hide in the wardrobe
wondering where you've gone

but they feel so all alone
empty trousers
over empty shoes

making a scary scarecrow
version of you
and I turn away

in disbelief
that there's no you
. . .no more

I watch the sunlight
crawl across the carpet
dust motes dancing

in an empty flat
look upon your favourite hat
touch it and then...not touch it

sit at your piano
and hit middle C
the last thing you ever taught me

I hate this room
for pretending you
you're still here

I know...I know
it's lying
I brush away a tear

didn't even know
that
I'd been crying