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
Sunday, 8 January 2012
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
The pamphlet Rainbows on my Spectacles is available at http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/rainbows-on-my-spectacles/id486905289?mt=11