She
arches
her back,
lying down,
and wriggles
her toes,
murmuring
to the
cracks in
the ceiling
in foreign
tongues.
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Poetry
They put a spell on me (because I’m mine)
Tomorrow – a rubaiyat
The stars of the heavens are clear and bright.
I stand here alone, looking up tonight.
The song of the nightingale fills my heart
Ecstatic soloist, brings sweet delight
A softened light shines from the crescent moon,
At dawn it lips the ocean in a swoon.
All night I watched awake, we are apart.
The treasured morning cannot come to soon.
The scent of roses fills the dawning air
As I walk out in peace without a care
Amidst this new-born darling of a day
Where all the fields are newly fresh and fair.
You bring a smile, a word, a tender glance.
Tomorrow’s here and all the world’s a dance.
The sky is blue, the clouds have cleared away
And I am dreaming in a golden trance
Ghazal ~ Not the Moon
When happiness eludes us in the dark,
dying in the wane, forsake not the moon
It will wax again, shine its silver light,
the turning tide will ache. Not the moon.
When spring is young and full of love, the sun
brings pleasure, gladdens day, wake not the moon.
The morning chorus brings us new born day.
Birdsong floats above the lake. Not the moon.
It is dawn above the soft horizon
that will our tenderness untimely break. Not the moon.
When Venus orbits high above, my love is in
my arms again, the night, delight, take not the moon!
Dear Wilf
There was a Raven called Wilf
Fairly quiet, he kept to himself,
‘What do you do all the time?’ I asked.
He blinked his mirrored eye.
‘What do you expect of a bird?’
he said, ‘I observe, observe, observe,
and I fly when I need to fly.”
‘And does that make you happy?’ I asked
He nodded his head, ‘Oh yes,
my happiness is complete,
far more than you could ever guess,
but I also like talking to you
and dropping a seed here and there.’’
I smiled, ‘Ah yes. Your troubles are seldom and few.”
Questioning the Raven
I watch the Raven
the Raven watches me
me stuck here on the ground
him high up in his tree
he cocks his head
does he question me?
wondering how i should answer
I nod back
I feel some sense of brotherhood
with this bright eyed bird
when he squawked and chuckled
did he think I understood?
who knows more
a man or a raven?
was he a man before?
will i become a bird?
if I knew the mind of a raven
maybe i could fly
if he thought he knew my mind
would he fly away?
I feel the need to speak
feel the feelings that are his
does he see how fragile
how unfathomable everything is?
does a raven even care
and should i?
i cock my head to the raven
he nods back
Doors, Corridors, And Lessons Learned
worthy of a read – as is much else on this site
The Old Man
Four cottages stood in a silent row
out on the windswept lonely moor.
People came and people went
but no one came to the old mans door.
The old mans home stood empty now
autumn leaves littered the floor
a smell of must hung in the air,
winters damp and lack of care.
Seeking a home I entered in
Knowing nothing at all of him.
Like an intruder i climbed the stair
to a room, quiet, stark and bare.
An empty bed, the covers pulled back
an empty chair, a water glass
half full, a film of tired dust.
A hollow, a dip at the pillows heart,
round imprint of a sleeping head,
all that is left of the old man, dead.
He lay alone for two long weeks
abandoned in his silent bed
Luna Flow
the changing moons of time and tide
allow no traveller to abide
life ebbs and flows with changing seas
regardless of our errant pleas
all useless thought is vanished now
no virtue in the why and how
we wake from dreams to deeper dreams
nothing ever as it seems
truth lives within the loving heart
no souls are ever far apart
to the stars our fate is bound
we are not lost but truly found
The Clock
the clock shows the time
solitary dandelion
sowing seeds of summer
The Dreaming Path 