rain storms reflected
lightening and thunder too
in crystalline pools

Are you not weary of ardent ways
Tell me no more of enchanted days

James Joyce

Nice to meet you
after all these years
but the person that got trapped in your mind
is one of the many
I have left behind
I presume it is the same with you

Sure, Jimi Hendrix was a favourite of mine
so too, were Traffic, Pink Floyd and Deep Purple
and oh yes!!!
how can I forget?
I carried Emerson and Keats
in my hip pocket

Each morning it rises
Out of the mists of dawn
And begins to sing
Its immortal song

Leonard

you don't get to remember your last thought
after you're dead
so it's a far far better world to leave if the thought
you think is dipped in dark dark ink

soon even your most excellent poem will leave your breath
and maggots
will invade your space, you will burn throughout eternity
with the apple in your throat and Paradise will not even
be a memory fading from white-lilies of existence.

skeins of silken thread
euclidean arabesques
a perfect crochet

Written: 20/11/2007

can tell the way you hold yourself half turning
the unfinished smile
I look out and watch the bright waves
the sharp sunlight washing over us
and the great weight of restless dreams
pulls at my cuffs and sleeves like
deep water

You are a distant island whose sand I
once walked on Whose campfire
knoll captivated me

you are a dream now
drifting like the patternless cloud
masses slowly
but surely away

I watch you escaping our history
your sure legs swaying
along the busy pathway

Where have all the statesmen gone?
all we seem to have are politicians
party hacks who only see
as far as the next election

Their only love is keeping power
led by polls instead of moral compass
willing to cut any deal
..betray their office
...betray their constituents

Do anything

to stay on the public tit
one more year

No concern for country's good
(must look good for sound bites)
while passing the buck of blame
utterly lacking in courage
is this the best we have?

the crow fills the air with dark-winged presence
a black iron fence stands guard
doors and windows open,
life passes through.
we are strangers here
with moments of glory
on battlefields of hope
who can speak of victory
and the injury of loss?
but if the sun rises
turns leaves to gold
on a mid-summer's day,
all there is
will take a bow
and the stage will be lit
from the inside out.

.

bright downy feathers
aerodynamic form
freshly painted beak

written: 25/02/2008

when you stare at a dim star
it vanishes
then you see it
when you look away

it was an analogy waiting to happen
i left it too long

autumn or sunlight or
long shadows, does that help?
how about hawks, do you know now?

what i want to tell you
can only be said by
avoiding the subject