Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Monday, 26 December 2011
This Night
I cannot turn out the light
That you turned on for me
Even if it was my choice
It is not my overriding right
I turn, to turn out the night
But cannot override the sight
Filled with resounding voice
That you turned on for me
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Saturday, 24 December 2011
Ambient Love Words
Say I love you
Yes I love you
Say you love me
Yes I love you
Say so, say so
I love you
I love you
Say so
Say so
Say so I love you
Say so I love you
I love you so say so
I love you so say so
Say I love you
Say I love you
Say so
Say so
Say so say
Say so say
Say so I love you
Say so I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I say
I say
Say so
Say so
Say so I love you
I love you
Yes I love you
Say you love me
Yes I love you
Say so, say so
I love you
I love you
Say so
Say so
Say so I love you
Say so I love you
I love you so say so
I love you so say so
Say I love you
Say I love you
Say so
Say so
Say so say
Say so say
Say so I love you
Say so I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I say
I say
Say so
Say so
Say so I love you
I love you
Picture in Ether
Wax jacket
Corduroy collar
Pressed studs
Snowflake
Eye drop
Sparkle
Pursed lip
Classic
Bone structure
Woollen scarf
Round and down
Cross patterns cross
Jade stone
Pendant
Laid on a silver string
Hair strands damp
Five down the forehead
Frizzle fine, on top
Blouse
Button
Peel of skin
Fence, fern
Return
Within
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Friday, 23 December 2011
Is it because
Is it because I’ve lost you
That I am in love with you so
Is it because we will be
No more together
That I imagine forever so
Is it because you never say
That I write
Almost every day
Is it because of past fascination
That I perceive some
Superimposed reconciliation
Is it because of doubt
That this last line petered out
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Thursday, 22 December 2011
Blow away the bogus
Transcendental meditation
Imagination
The moving picture is
Still of you
Desensitise the eyes
Realise
Still the moving picture
Takes a familiar view
Smiles layered deeper
Sweep
The field and the focus
Substitute a lower locus
Fragments of emotion
Nights of skin touched
Without caution
Externalise
Blow away the bogus
Wise men wander free
But near
The regressive seer
One kiss caught me, I leer
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
Slipped through
I wake
I am warm
I smile
A little while
I wake
To hear
Doors slam
I don’t give a damn
I swoon
Warm
In my reflective
Capsule cocoon
~
Lady love in lavender
Every day
A calendar
My lady love
O baby love
My lady love in lavender
My lady love
My baby love
My lady love in lavender
O poppy fields
And cotton reels
Every day my love she steals
O lady love
My baby love
My lady love in lavender
O baby love
My lady love
My Lavender
In fields of corn
Our passion sworn
My lady love
O baby love
My lady love in lavender
O baby
My lady
My lady love
My Lavender
Under silver clouds
With sparkled shrouds
My lady love
O baby love
My lady love in lavender
O baby love
My lady love
My Lavender
Ever tender is the night
More tender still
The morning
My lady love
O baby love
My lady love in lavender
O baby love
O lady love
O Lavender
Every day
My baby love
My lady love
Every way my calendar
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
Love the Loss
I love the pain
I love the grief
I love the constant
Disbelief
I love to cry
You say goodbye
I wonder why
But love to cry
I love to smoke
Your words to choke
A heavenly soak
Without your poke
Some folk whinge
That makes me cringe
When love is gone
Don’t let it singe
Others mope
Or call the pope
Or worse they dangle
On the ring of rope
But for me, from afar
No door ajar
I love the loss, covered
In its sphagnum moss
Love the bucketfuls of tears
Love the wasted years
Of blown away
Memories
I love to lie
Of love deprived
I shall not die
Of loss contrived
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Sunday, 18 December 2011
In Defence of Past Mikado
It is an age of acceptance
Passed the time to mourn
Your defence of incommunicado
Set deep into the ring of thorns
You offer me no hope
So I will go
Nowhere else
Instead
You offer me no hope
For you
Our love is long gone
Dead
Think then of deliverance
The bull caught by the horn
Your defence of passed Mikado
The executioner enthroned, reborn
You offer me no hope
So I will go
Elsewhere
Or no
You offer me no hope
For you
I am from long ago
Or so
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Passed the time to mourn
Your defence of incommunicado
Set deep into the ring of thorns
You offer me no hope
So I will go
Nowhere else
Instead
You offer me no hope
For you
Our love is long gone
Dead
Think then of deliverance
The bull caught by the horn
Your defence of passed Mikado
The executioner enthroned, reborn
You offer me no hope
So I will go
Elsewhere
Or no
You offer me no hope
For you
I am from long ago
Or so
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Friday, 16 December 2011
Dry
Butterfly
& dandelion
Wisp of sand
Land of Zion
Once ordinary folk
House martins
Homing pigeons
& sparrows parting
On telegraph wires
Can we please talk
Salmon leap
Passed rainbow trout
In sea and stream
They too weave in & out
What is there to talk about
Buttercups
Clovers, daisies
Soundproofed
Stone walls
Must we shout
Silk, velvet
Nylon vest
Negligee, slip
Land of Zion?
Give it a rest
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Thursday, 15 December 2011
Invite you somewhere sometime
You may no longer want me
Though that does not mean
I must not want you
I do still love you, scene-through
I have your letters
I have your photographs
I could carve you in marble
I could mould you in alabaster
I agree
You no longer want me
But might I not try
To change your too stringent view
I desire to write you letters
I urge to send you photographs
I dream of you; now & to the very last
Perhaps I could even try to be a little daft
I know you still mean no
That forever is your final vow
Forever you don’t want me
Still it is a risk I take, any old how
To remember anniversaries
& always post the cards first class
I will invite you somewhere sometime
& always there love you, my crazy sass
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Natures Love (Show How)
Tend the flowerbed
By the butterfly
Wonder why
The ladybird wanders
A quiet afternoon - quite easily
Only you inside your own borders
At one with your earth orders
Toil away, enrich your soul
Meadow grass, poppy, daisy
Lazy daze on a hazy afternoon
In the place to swoon
Between dreams and slumber
The sun full on
Your warmth of skin
Massage slow, mellow in
Pour oil all over
Tend the humanity
Rest with all the above
Show how natures love
Creates patience
http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/massage-slow-mellow-in/id485037810?mt=11
Monday, 12 December 2011
Churchyards and hilltops
Love & dust
So close they spoke together
If ever you have been
Deep into the quiet country
You know that someone was born here
But you were not here, at the birth
Or even at the death, except
That now you touch the silence
Smell the yew, how do you do that
Be true, to the truth inside of you
Laid down now; deep, yet here beside you
Earlier the breeze, on the plateau
Of the long grass, the grasses danced &
Swayed, played for Mother Earth’s fair children
Who listened, and beside the stillness
The starless sky; the orange moon in the
Grass filled camera’s eye
The still moon, that sent just, justly
The love and dust; now they walk
Forever, they go on further than before
Yet unexpected they come upon
And are frightened
Fearful, at the sight of the once opened door
Dusk turns into full on darkness
The churchyard says go silent
Silent into the dark of darkest night
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Sunday, 11 December 2011
A few days ago
It was seven when we set off to sea
But even before we were lost
We had changed our destination
We had spoke of going to this place
To listen to the silence
To make love with nature
In nature with the noise of nothingness
To be there, with peace
With the richness of life's love all around us.
The festival is a few weeks away
Yet already the campers have begun to arrive
Their half-barrel barbecues happily burn
Fed with the twigs of beech and hazel
Undisturbed we climb the stile
With its water tap and electric light
We wander off, out among the grasses
You lead on
We pull our clothes away, gently and together
I take a photograph of my shadow
Of your stature, of the swaying grasses
In the space that is somehow between us
We wonder at the wondrous land & skyscapes
Lay lightly down; with our love beside us
Stillness brings the unspoken meditation
For which we thank, for which we bless
We rise, just as the moon rose above us
We each take each others picture
We each take the moons picture
Hold hands and slowly stroll
Find our way back, slowly onwards
On from this place
A place we might call heaven
The moon is full
A few days ago
After our walk through Tennyson county
We had talked of returning to the church
In the still of night
The old map-book shows
That Tetford and Somersby have survived
Both are feintly found
On the torn out plotted paper
And by our slow drive
With the surest of directions
We arrive, park up under the light
Of the half lit telephone box
Across the road is Tennyson’s birthplace
Next door to the castellated manor house
Which itself is scenically misplaced
And fades into a decaying diversion
The churchyard gate is open
Old yews stand eerily still
We stand, chilled together
At the half-opened unbolted door
I feel afraid, I feel your fear
We enter as if into a presence
The door is left open
We hug; our fear is transferred
Passed through
One to the other
Onwards into that place
That no one ever knows
After a while we sit in the pews
I cannot settle
Anyway this is your place
The silent beauty suits you
It belongs to you
I stand aside
Reflect back
Smile upon your stillness
We walk at zero pace
Ambling
Without haste or urgency
Back to the parked car
The moon is full
The sky clear, well almost
Just a shade of sodium
Just a wisp of cloud
We drive off
Moths dance
In the headlights glare
We are heading home
Tonight we entered
Into the land of magic
Tonight we emerged
From the loss of love
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Saturday, 10 December 2011
Nowhere that we need to be
Moths
Caught
In the full beam
Of the halogen headlights
They dance
Dance to the music
Dance to the spirit
Or dance
To the silence of the summer
Listen out
For the ever present
Resonant frequencies
The still born silence of death
Forever
Somewhere or hereabouts
In deep sleep’s
Midnight air
Dance to that time of time ago
When madness was protected
By the curse of childlessness
On future generations
Walk nine miles or for nigh on ninety years
To be nowhere now that we need to be
There to set free, to see the grief
Believe the spectacle of families torn apart
Silently in silence we wonder
Would we be here if
Without of our own furrowed brows
Without those doubts and burdens
If we
As they had not to say
That this is the past
The last and final curtain
The hoedown
The showdown
The windblown ground
Around the gravestones
Of the slowdown motel
She then, betrothed and ached
Once, which was one time too many
She caught on
Yet for whose sake
Did she fall short of the full term dream
Who set up those bewitched, barbaric deadlines
Headlines now; but back then it seems
An everyday occurrence
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Friday, 9 December 2011
About eight
Stalled
Seven tall
Into the set of sun
Stopped
Then dropped
This war my course has run
No one knows
These words I shout
No one understands
Always doubt
My words about
And no one gives a damn
So let me set it straight
Nothing clever, wait
Pray let me hesitate
Simply a celebration
Rows of poppies
In a wild garden
About eight in the evening
A setting sun
In the first few days of summer
A photograph
You smile, we laugh
The light catches all our crinkles
We’ve sprinkled magic dust
On our generations rust
Just in time to mingle, single & free
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Thursday, 8 December 2011
There goes her shadow
Would that I would want you
Blood being thicker, sicklier than water
Stood there under the moon
Should so soon my lady heirloom
There have seen the bloom
She stands in the empty church
In the cold and open doorway
She sings her songs in silence
Of all who’ve passed her way
Passed her
On into the darkness
Passed on, to her
Imprints on the headstones
Passed into streams of trickled water
To doubt and fear of childless daughters
Their virgin folds stay untold; they kept
Apart more than just two families
Motherhood never to be discovered
Never to be smothered
With the love
That only a child can give
Epilepsy now nowhere near the madness
Sad that then so misunderstood, much the same
When came the manic depression
Suppressed, repossession brought the only clue
Now stand
Here in the, feel
There blows the breeze
Now stand
Here in the, listen
There goes her shadow
Now stand
Here in the...
O would that you would want me
To be misunderstood, your
Bloodlines being sicklier
And ever thicker than water
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Make the Man
Striped deckchairs
Chiffon dress
Heads in books
A softer breeze
Beds with plumped up pillows
Rose gardens
Weeping willows
Cups of tea
Quintessential:
Fits as if a three-piece suit
Or ducks plaster cast threefold
In flight across the fire place wall
So what would you take with you
Other than paper, a pen and the sanity
To fetch back from your mind
That which you have already known
That which you know makes
The difference
Between the here and there
Between the then and now
So what
Would you take with you
To make the man:
Checked frocks
Embroidered smocks
Garlands round the maypole
Hand pulled ales
Hills and vales
Strangers resounding
At the clarion call
By the tall trees now in slumber
Somewhere East of Clumber
Deferential
Sticks unpicked
Past glories
Lost & stumbled
The shoddy
Without the shimmer
With thread and pin
Therein to sing
That sometime
The fabric’s time
Not with medals
But with honour
The fabrics time arrives
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Capture
Your sign
Of sunshine after rain
Of clay
Close upon your surface
Of winters now far away
Wide grass, wedged between your thumbs
In front of your cupped fingers
Your breath
Without the grass gives a hoot
Or is it an owl
Somewhere in the distance
This moment
I stroke beneath your eyelid, then
Ask that you turn
To face into the sun
Such that the camera
May catch (capture)
More than just the essence
Of the past, or the future
Or your presence
In sepia tone
Or black and white
Or pixel plenty colour
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Monday, 5 December 2011
Pink white blossom
Crooked vine you have turned
At every turn, yet
You have yearned not of going back
Always instead to reach out, without end
Or fall away
Wither there, to die a quicker death
Curvaceous leaf; your sheaf, your shape
As her neck nape with pleasure gave
Strains of the toughest, twice turned cheek
Always instead to float until way past late
Or drip when clipped
Annotated as a signature, on the vase or cheque
Pink white blossom - you arrive unnoticed
Well dressed
No thanks to the hibernation times
Always instead to spume your fine perfume
Or phrase your dusted past
Onto the pictures of our pastured pavements
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Imperfect Words
Mown grass cut in crooked lines
She finds her beauty in the painter’s eye
There by the water butt & the buzzing fly
Twisted bark and washing lines
Drying out the nearly nigh on summer
Starched collars and double cuffs
A uniform to bluff the chuffs you must
Just now and then disapprove of
A lazy space; a place to phase
A future resurrection, a collection filed under
Imperfect words, absurd to think that they
Make you smile, while all the while
The workmen wonder
Thunder rolls, ramblers stroll
All for the love of someone East of Clumber
Lumberjacks and rookies hats
Right on mountains, with fountains
To the sea, through the waterfalls
Seats in the operatic stalls
Hold all the calls
For then you’ll see
The mown grass
The fir pined tree
The painter man - and me
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
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