Shifting

Ah, how it wounds the heart
to see the old ones shuffling
homeward through the park,
stumbling and insecure,
clasping their meagre shopping.
pausing at every step,
with no welcome home at their door.
The British winter is here.

Look at them.
Show no contempt,
for they are the tired warriors
on the slippery, frosted edge
of a road you too will tread

Lay still.
Listen to your breath.
Sweet sound.

The old lay still in the dark
listening to the singing
of the blood that flows,
pulsing through hardened arteries,
imagining the end.

Outside, in the city streets
young men try to sleep,
huddled up with a dog,
for the sake of body warmth,
but the cold keeps creeping in.

Ah, how it breaks my heart!

In the back lanes of Marrakesh,
it’s time for the evening meal,
time to share the broken bread
after giving thanks to God.
Eight hands reach to one plate.

The old man in the corner
rests on a low sedan
amid cushions of faded flowers.
His daughter strokes his head
and feeds him the best of the dates.

They told me there was once a time,
upon a time not so long ago,
when the porch of every rich man’s house
was a shelter for the poor.
The doors were left unlocked.
I vaguely remember that.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
a pleasure dome decree?
He never invited you or me,
as far as I recollect.
It’s covered in satellite dishes now.
The minaret’s derelict.

Ah, how the world keeps shifting.
Ah, how it greives my heart
that the balance is never right.

Can you rely on the place you call home?
Do you trust the tectonic plates?
Have you heard how the ice caps melt?
Do you think you’ll avoid the drones?
Will we blast ourselves out of existence?
Did we make a huge mistake
when we declared the gods are dead?
Do you ever get scared in the night?

Balancing

such shadows come and fall on me
from joy to sorrow, like a switch
i fight to turn the light back on
i don’t know where the joy has gone

a single note in some old song
a word not said
a thought unwise
i try to see where i went wrong

the tender sweetness
on a breeze
can turn my heart
and make me freeze

and then i go and sit a while
and lean against a steady tree
and wait to smile again
and see

like the earth we reach for warmth
and the thirsty kiss of rain
all things in nature
are the same

it’s all a mirror of ourselves
dimmed and scratched
things unclear
and things not seen

this constant flow
of dark and light
is just the deep souls day and night
and the turning of the year

Realism

i am having an attack of realism
that enemy of joy
it’s good to have a reminder
now and then
of what it’s like
but only now and then

when the magic dies
even for a day
the world becomes quite grey
and love looks at me and leaves
it goes on holiday
all i wanted was a hand

i will close my eyes
to everything i want
and never speak
from this dark place
or explain to anyone
what it is i need

i wont beg and i wont bleed
that would not be nice
i wait for magic to return
it comes back when it will
with no regard to me
i guess that’s how it’s meant to be

i don’t have to be star-touched
or over the moon to survive
magical realism is all i want
or a smile in my direction
the balance will be fine
when the time is right

The Battlefield

half of the world is locked in a nightmare
half of the world is a glorious dream
half of the world is walking in darkness
spreading their misery wherever they go
half of the world follows the light
seeing the mystery, seeing the glow

storm clouds and thunder, fire and strong bars
a vision of wonder, sunlight and stars
horror and cruelty, vicious dissent
honour and loyalty, loving ascent
hell on earth if that is your choice
heaven on earth too has its own voice

it so often seems that the dark side will win
but the balance is held between giving and sin
the clever ones know how to give all the answers
the wise ones are known by the questions they ask
all that we see will be over, the past,
nightmare or dream we awaken at last
the night will end and all will be light

Geometry

if i could subtract
i would remove
all the block and ballast
of all the past relationships
and every word i said that hurt

there would be no divisions
all good things would multiply
i would add love to every word i said
to make the truth sing clear

i am not a mathematician
my sums don’t all add up
i mumble through the algebra
and stumble through equations

to show you all i really mean
i’d need geometry
that pure divine expression
of balanced harmony

The first little story I ever wrote – which grew into a book

The Day Moon Met the Raven

A man who had for some time been travelling the road in all weathers, sat down at the roadside under a sheltering tree. His jacket was richly embroidered but his leather boots were dusty and worn from long walking. He had little coin in his purse but his pouch was full of papers covered with poems and interesting thoughts gathered here and there. He was tired, too tired to even be capable of assessing his own mood at that moment. He was, he thought, probably content.

As the sun sank and dusk fell he looked up and saw the moon rise and he realised that it was the Autumn Equinox, when the length of the day and the night, darkness and light, are equal. As he relaxed and watched the moon climb higher into the sky his mind drifted and he began to assess his own life, dispassionately. His memory drifted here and there across many years.

Awakening from his trance he realised that he had been joined by a white cat and a raven. He thought they must be hungry and began to feel in his pocket for food of some kind but the Raven, seeing his intention, said,

”Sir, don’t let us trouble you, for we are not hungry. We came to sit beside you only because your appearance interested us.”

With that, they began to discuss him as if he was not there, but also as though they could read all his thoughts.

The cat said ”He seems to me a miserable man with a sad life. Look at his boots and the lines that run down by the sides of his mouth, Raven, and he clearly has no money. I would say he is a terrible failure. He has nothing. He looks homeless and I am convinced he has no wife and no children.”

She paused to clean an ear with her paw and looked thoughtful.

” I expect he has travelled much too, and those types who keep feeling the need to move on seldom manage to keep many friends. Doubtless he is also unemployed or he wouldn’t be sitting here dreaming. It all looks like doom and gloom to me. How very sad! ”

”Squawk,” said the Raven, cocking his head at the man and considering, ” I see him quite differently. I see a man with laughter lines round his eyes and he clearly loves beauty, just look at the jacket he wears! And he may not have much in the way of coin but he is generous with what he does have or he would not have begun to search for food when he saw us. He is kind I think. He does seem to have a lot of papers in his pouch and I suspect, by the dreamy look in his eyes, that they are poems so maybe he has, not a job, but a talent. Also he is tall and strong and I doubt he lacks for food. I suspect he is also armed, a dagger slipped into his boot perhaps.”

The Raven hopped onto the man’s shoulder to get a closer look. The man smiled at that.

”As for being much travelled, well yes, but is it really true to say that a rolling stone gathers no moss? True, he probably has left friends and loved ones behind, but just imagine all he has seen on the way and all of the people he has met. I think he has had a rich life and must be happy and could even be congratulated.”

The Raven and the Cat then proceeded to squabble and the man feared the Raven might be eaten, so he spoke.

”May I interject in this argument for the sake of your peace?”

”Yes, please do”, said the Raven, hoping for an end to the fight and some wisdom.

”I suppose so” said the Cat, shrugging and sounding gloomy, ”Much good may it do, for I expect none.” She sat grooming herself again, looking bored.

”Well” said the man, ”It seems to me that you both see things from only one point of view. You, dear Cat, are entirely negative and this charming Raven sees only the good and the positive in all.”

”So”, said the Cat, expecting to lose the argument, ”Tell me I am wrong then. Go on.”

At that the Raven looked pleased but sighed in a way only a bird can.

”The truth is,” said the man, ”that you are both right but without each other you are both wrong.”

”How so Sir?” said the Raven, looking puzzled.

”I am both happy and sad.” the man replied, ”The sum of all you say is true. But if only the negative was true I would just sit here and give up and if only the positive part were true then I would have learned nothing. The positive and the negative work together in my life. Joy is my desire and I have often had it but I know that sorrow, which I also have had, can bring depth to feeling and we can’t appreciate the one without the other. So I sit in the middle and am content. We all need balance!”

With that, the man stood up.

”I will continue my journey now”, he said. ”I wish you both well and safe paths.”

The cat turned her back and pretended to look at something else, as Cats always do when embarrassed and the Raven said,

”Sir I will come with you if I may. I have always liked travel. I sense that you are restless at night and perhaps when you are tired I can lighten your day?”

The man smiled and nodded his head. As he began to walk off he said, under his breathe,

‘’Gold leaves spin, falling, bringing sadness and delight. The balance is held.’’

 

 

Believe what you like

this is a game of consequences,
angles, perspectives, attitudes
pitiless, clear
nothing less, nothing more
there’s a futile dead end to thought
the pathos filled path to no place
that wide open sceptical door
to self pity, the pit, no mercy
making us less than we are
a shard of ice in the heart
the manacled fire of the mind
where life becomes paltry,
feeble, flawed
into the darkness we walk
drowning our sorrows
dying for water
parched

caught from an earlier rain
a droplet on a dark leaf
reflecting a light that gleams
a shimmering fragile globe
it mirrors the tree, growing above
where wide open branches reach to the sky
if we ever looked up we would see
the way they turn to the sun and grow tall

nothing can make us small
nothing will stop us from standing again
except the belief that the sun doesn’t shine
and the clouds will never bring rain