Saturday, February 26, 2011

The silent meaningful

The wind in respect has retreated for a rest
to allow the birds and bees and me
a chance to freely fly
into the silent meaningful.

The sun burns its ardour down
like a conciliatory embrace
for it knows that in the silence
I’ll find my past mistakes.

I’ll also find how love can be
when wings aren’t clipped and tied
and the busy, busy, worker bee
that scattered can’t decide.

I’ll find the sons and daughters
born to enlighten me
and all the dress-up clothes
that hid my vulnerability.

And I’ll find you standing there
at ease in your belief
that mingled, meshed, and intertwined
with transitory life ~
and I will find I cannot find
the silence of your heart!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

It came to me

It came to me this morning, now,
and I studied it full face
as if watching stand-up comedy
awaiting the punch-line.

But silence issued from the lips,
the eyes were stark and staring,
and the pose like one uncaring
of me and you and them.

Like a statue, yes, indeed it was,
yet it followed my perceptions,
bowed down to my core belief,
and played out every thought.

Ah-ha! It’s life; you know it is!

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

She climbed

She climbed the stairs and counted
not a thousand but much less
yet still enough to take her up
to a vantage point
and she surveyed the landscape
dry-eyed like one unmoved.

In the distance there were mountains
blue, blue, it seemed to her
like love confined immobile
in a cage of self-destruction
and she brought the air in, in, in,
like a plea for love’s release.

She turned then and walked away
to where the grass was green
and where the water tumbled free
hot, hot, like passion, lust,
from within the bowels of earth.

She settled in that stream to be
self-contained and satisfied
that once a plea intoned
she simply had to be
distanced from the mountains blue
dry-eyed as she was then.

And then she went down, down, down,
into the depths of heart and soul
to arise a woman free and clear
from deep emotive love
but there in those watery depths
you’ll find the tears she cried.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Frozen moments

A moment froze within its pose
and I captured it just so
for there are few and far between
that fit from edge to edge.
Too large and they’re a burden,
too small means something's missing,
but that edge to edge the manner, means,
of satiating me.

I thought then of you and love
under a cloudless sky
and of the birthing process
that leads to greater things.

And I thought of rain and thunderstorms,
of anguish and dismay,
and then I saw the edges
slowly, slowly curling up
and my frozen moment melted
into a puddle round my feet.
So I splashed a bit; ‘twas still good
for the time it took to know
frozen moments disappear
when mind turns up the heat!

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Twigs and me

It’s an evil wind that blows today
through nooks and crannies, hair,
and the mind is set to fluttering
here, there, and everywhere.

One moment settled in the now,
one moment looking back,
and the next searching o’er the land
for twigs to make a future nest.

But twigs are brittle, prone to break,
and move with wind like scuttling bugs
to rest upon a foreign shore
where again the wind will blow.

Twigs and me; we seem to be
flying creatures without wings
who flutter, flutter, aimlessly,
between past, present, future.

It’s an evil wind that blows today
until, until - there’s no “until”
because, because, it’s just because
minds flutter everywhere!

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

The land of "have-me-not"

In the circumstance of moving life
things break and need repair
and all that went to fuel it up
demands replenishment.

Then there’s the you and me
so well entwined therein
with no fix-it man in sight
and no pipeline to sustenance.

There’s no hand to hold or lift-me-up,
no shoulder or a “yes, I know”,
and no touch to still the tingle
that reverberates within.

It’s called in modern parlance
the land of “have-me-not”
where love in form does nothing,
not even feeds the feel.

But in that land there once were hills
that slowly, slowly, grew to be
large stand-alone mountains
imposing in their majesty.

Mountains ring the place I’m at
and how like love to simply be
above the circumstance of life
yet there for me to see!

Monday, February 7, 2011


There is no discount waiting for
he who pays to take a chance
or voucher, gift, refund cheque,
or a bar of chocolate.

We simply pay the asking price
of which we're unaware
but that chance so clothed in mystery
completely irresistible.

Pay, pay, pay, we paid back then
and today, tomorrow, on
until the chance we chose to take
bows to another one.

It's like climbing up a mountain
until on the peak we spy the sea
rolling chances to the shore
not awaiting our descent.

Yet slowly, surely, down we go.
There always is another chance
maybe perfect or not so
but we will, I know, pay again.

‘tis just an open mind, you see,
that knows to be where chances roll
and catch a wave that's outward bound
towards a new experience.

Let not the you or me ere be
stuck on mountains far from sea!