FAMILIARITY

Comforted with what you know
It’s what to do, and where to go
Viewing the same old TV show
Familiarity is like the warm scarf
Worn with a smile if not a laugh
Yet, a cool fresh breeze is good

All classic jokes, funny and slow
Always reinforce the status quo
In an aisle seat, never front row
The pleasant nod from the staff
Avant Garde ever off the graph
Try something new, you should

Through change, one shall grow
Step sideways to go with the flow
It will be experience, high or low
To realise in full, not just by half
And not sacrificing a golden calf
Don’t be looking under the hood

TRUTHS

With each day that now passes
Truths are getting ever nearer
Just a glimpse is never enough
With all the boring detail stuff
One day soon it will be clearer
Hopefully I won’t need glasses

They do say that full realisation
Comes only with accurate vision
Like translating an ancient tract
The focus isn’t so subtle, in fact
It can make a very deep incision
No anaesthetic for an operation

It comes from a very cold place
And melting ice forms a puddle
Insight could be a powerful blow
At least from above, not below
No confusion, nor in a muddle
Yet will always haunt this space

VOICE IN THE WIND

In the wind, a whispering voice
A choice, now the end is near
Do you hear – it’s telling us all
What might befall, what is due
If it’s true, then the time is nigh
To wave goodbye, and depart
And start, beginning over again
New planes of existence beckon
I reckon that all will offer hope
As we ***** for more meaning

For now, at least we must listen
The decision is still ours to take
And make the best that we may
But anyway, we have little time
No rhyme nor reason can apply
Ask why, and a wind just blows
No-one knows any explanation
In summation, just heed the call
For us all, it may just be the last
The past is gone, greet the dawn

NO WORDS

There are no words that can describe it
Nor deliver any reasonable explanation
As rationality no longer plays any part
While mysterious forces are at its heart
That might cause a strange perturbation
And as per the saying, it is the biter bit

THE LINE

In determining what is good or bad
There’s a sort of line that separates
Running down as a kind of division
For words or ideas needing revision
No ignoring it, as one contemplates
But all fashionable choices are a fad

Whether written or just in the mind
The line cuts through it like a blade
To one side, it’s what should survive
On the other, no reason to be alive
A clear distinction will be displayed
And rejection never does feel kind

If only justice were as simple as this
Innocent or guilty, right and wrong
For many, it’s like a line in the sand
Yet difficult for some to understand
It’ll be left or right before too long
With only a smallest chance to miss

STYLE

Can one have a style of love
Swung open like a gate, inviting
Or perhaps a door slammed shut
Trapping all within its space
Feelings are the sculptor
An image forming, chisel in hand
Or even a seasoned potter
Hands around spinning wet clay
Yet love can turn inside out
Once a soft smile, now hard stare
Passion spent, mixed emotions
Still trying to make sense of it all
Trust love to be like vapour
Swirling around without form or shape
But always nearby, ready to hug
Taking over once again, ready or not
And it alone determines its span
Whether minutes or decades
A secret never understood
But a style that can be

FALLING

I suppose it may have been a message
When that picture just fell off the wall
Maybe it was never really appreciated
Or perhaps, by at least one, not at all

They have a sort of instinct, you know
About what every passer-by may think
And whether loved, dismissed or hated
Brings their self-awareness to the brink

But it’s such an act of self deprecation
It’s almost committing suicide, in fact
In art, imagery is everything of course
Whether style is traditional or abstract

Some paintings can appear overblown
But this canvas was so modestly sized
It is an unusual act of self-deprecation
Being sensitive, when cruelly criticised

But this curator held a different view
Sympathetic, with a wide perspective
Modern art, a form of free expression
Demands that all should be reflective

Just five inches square, it was re-hung
The fall incident reported as appalling
Quite the ironic twist in the coverage
When its title was revealed as ‘Falling’