Out of Touch

Too deep to reach

Too far, back in to sleep space

Yet I have the urge, the desire, to be there

I am left uncertain

I am unable to reconstruct the present goings on

Yet I once was a patron

Indeed I instigated and partook personally

In many of the both joyous and disastrous occasions

My seal or stain will be in the DNA

Of any investigation

My conversations, meditations

And mood swings

Will be in the very fabric, among

The ether of any of the more recent

Real or imagined gatherings

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book with audio cd from  poetryshop 

Packed

I see a much younger incarnation of Mneme, running up the stairs in a short twirling dress that I realise now she never would wear.

I am worried about our son, I have not heard from him for a while. I fear he is taken to drugs.

I am in Mneme's bedroom painting over a blue black patterned wall, with white emulsion paint; perhaps a mirror had been glued to the wall for there is a rectangular residue of glue and sealant.

I spill some paint onto the bedding, then as Mneme enters the room and moves towards me I spill even more paint onto her blouse.

There is an immense sexual tension building within me, and I can feel reciprocation. Yet tomorrow I have a must attend meeting to attend, many miles away. I need to leave now, but should I throw that all away for the sake of a night of passion.

The blue, for it may be significant, was a mid to dark blue, not royal blue nor Prussian blue by any means. But a blue of one of the my grammar school houses whose name presently escapes me ( I was in Armitage, a full on strong yellow). 

Also the blue of the blue and black of the shirt that I bought to wear for work in Dublin, and that I also wore to the following years Christmas party.

That was the last time me and Mneme danced and sweated so intimately and effusively together.

The black rectangles are more than shapes, though only outlines they remind me of castles or minarets. There is definitely a touch of antiquity. 

Yet the importance, or implications and meanings, of these well built structures, that are now reduced to irregularly broken lines, eludes me entirely.

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book with audio cd from  poetryshop 

Hold On

Take these half closed eyes

Not yet ready for their pennies

Take me with them, half way

Into your kaleidoscopes, & all, or

Half way to the modern-artists crimsons

Take these de-mystified lenses

Not yet to concede, or give in

Send them half way to paradise

With your surprises; rampant

Rapturous crystals piled ever high

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

As

Crinkled skin locks one in

As securely as the orange peel

Feel at bay, held away; sweet or sour

The zest will not shower

Nor your trapped love flower

Given the day, given the hour

Stumbled heart feints in ones part

As unsure as the buckled wheel

Deal to stay, kneel and pray, flutter

Or murmur, the rate will not earn

Her condolence or consent

Given the moon, given the stars

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Cabin

Hemingway you said

Read a little Hemingway

Listen to some old Buddy Rich records

Perhaps a bite to eat, smorgasbord or the like

All of this sat by the log fire

With flames away up the chimney

Outside the snow falls

The pathways from the woods are iced over

Those once lively animals have settled

Into burrows and nests, there is no wind

The tufts of grass are all but hidden

By the settled flakes of joyous alimentation

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Cobbles

I think it is the French connection

Yes that long glass of Kronenburg 1664

Ice cold larger in the blaze of a setting sun

Always I guess we are taken back

That is what time on our own provides

I hope it does the same for you

So let's go back to the Gaelic persuasion

To summer nights by St Ives harbour

A few beers and chilled white wine

A meal with artful conversation

Out then into the midnight air

Onto the seashore; kissing, skipping

No wonder occasionally we take a drink

Especially from the French connection

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Opposition

Sun sets

In deep resplendent red

Over the distant range

Of silhouette hills

Geese chuckle madly

Through the cusp

Of day and dusk

Somewhere

The evening primrose

Commences its rapid movement

The night at Emerson College

Is thus remembered

All the while I try to calm myself

After a workplace altercation

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Write of Love

I only want to write of love

If I might ever be able to re-create

Such absolute moments of earlier presences

As I sit here, with ease of time

To reflect, later in my life

I don't want to write specifically of those times

Rather I want to explore what is in that thing

Called love; love that flowed freely through

My veins and right now, as I sit at this table

What is in that thing called love

That brings me to another joyous embarkation

I am not tired of love, but I am tired

Physically, and mentally, tired

I begin to doze behind the wheel

I enter that dream space of love

Between existence, pre-existence and post-existence

The motorways I travel are loves endless corridors

A space where past memories happily co-exist

Beside the soundtracks of Motown and Woodstock

Would I benefit from a warm massage

To luxuriate in the love of oils, aromas

Atmospherics and the surer love

Rub of soft skin on soft skin

Would that shaft of sunlight

Falling on to the green trees

Of a north country castle morning

Would that, and the clear blue sky

Be remembered every time I hear

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

No One

At first you hear nothing

Then the passing of a single automobile

Effectively disturbs you

At first you remember no one

Then the passing of a car reminds you

Of that amorous trip to London

At first you sought out

Fast and loose excitement

Now peace and quiet is what eludes you

Sit at the second floor window

Sit and stare into half apparent

Darkness; at first hear nothing

At first think of no one

Where then better, to let the nights

Certain intensities begin

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Description

A desirous, uncontrollable, urge; fingers tap on the letter symbols. I wish to talk with you, I wish to talk with me. But more than talk; to also enter that place of arms around shoulders, that space of camaraderie, to wear and intertwine with the firebrand intensity of lustful love.

Prayers, incantations, meditations; call them as you will, but call them from being immersed within, and not from being that shallow insignificant observer without. I walked on through the tiredness, I tapped my symbolic witness into the virtual keyboard, these are shared words now, just as we shared the pleasures of snowfall a year gone by last winter.

How else to say, only yes I have ordered the book about description; I will return through the swathes of orange and crimson poppies, I will again walk sideways down the hill, towards the pink and private chapel. But for now, just as the pace was taking over I will draw the night to a close, I am to warmly celebrate my naked body, among the finest of Egyptian cotton bedsheets; a good goodnight to you all

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Givers

Almost too tired to write

Too tired to stir the chocolate powder

Into my bedtime drink

So tired that I fell asleep

Listening to the life story

Of the greatest writer of them all

Now, in a half alive recollection 

I remember an old colleague

A true gentleman of Eastern European origin

A pristine refugee engineer who 

(after he waxed lyrical) lent me his perfectly 

Preserved copy of Anna Karenina

I mention John in the same breath as Verity

Where are they now, where do our friendships 

(real and imagined) reside after those moments

When moments of joy are passed by

After those conversations and letters

Are, for a final time, passed over

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Hidden Away

On the money, with every given gift

Except unable to give the gift of love

Don't know why it had to be

Caught up in the criss-cross-fire of lust

Easier then to buy the artefact, the token

Less pain than the pain of life’s words spoken

To breeze in and breeze right on out again

Easier than the softness of one last soft refrain

Jealous of the sand dunes and the sea

Jeopardised by the shot at one time being free

Rebellious in the dance hall & the kissing tree

Intrepid owner of the visible, sparkle eyes to see

Laid up in the great big bed, music at my side

Lawrence ringing in my head, in memories to hide

Take them all and take again, drill down to the core

Afraid to speak, or more to move those slower steps 

Move slowly evermore, towards the chambers floor

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Filmic

Russian meadows, Yevtushenko's wolds

Orthodox church for all of farming stock

Idyllic imagery in slowed down slow motion

Sorrowful sorrows; ten words are ushered in

I am having a child, but it is not yours

Broken, taken at that instant, loss

Immense loss measured by desolate means

In union with the desperate soul who feels the

Crushing burden; the raw words of loneliness

Smiling eyes, cheerful conversation, an interlude, then

Death, comatose after the abortion, unquenched pain

The unrequited absence, loves abstention in abstensis

Our own destructions, laid bare, to flagrantly destroy us

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Countryside Café

All those times I drove along this road

Times when you were not open for business

Or times when I did not have the time to care

Today I took the time to leave my workplace early

It's already been a week I've been away from home

Time enough, time for the daffodils to flower

Time for the lawns to be more than my own

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Influential: I Don’t Think So

There are a good few of you out there

Neither in this phase or the other phase

Not fully included nor excluded entirely

From one day to the next in uncertainty

Past masters of being sat on the fence, though

Safe enough from being hung out to dry

Thanks to no real responsibility, no authority

No executive decision-making powers

A sideline commentator, a part-time visionary 

One who points out the cock-ups before they happen

But a man powerless in terms of prevention

Not great for a CV that’s for sure

But who ever got anywhere

Using the unmitigated truth

C'est la vie

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Our World of Purples & Blues

Our world of purples & blues

Our world of Arabs & Jews

Our world of thoroughbred truths

Our world

Our world of dyes and stains

Our world of pleasure that pains

Our world of time and again

Our world

You came in shades of flowers

You came so deep into the night

You came in variegated patterns

You came with fair & certain rights

Our world of purples & blues

Our world of Arabs & Jews

Our world of thoroughbred truths

Our world

Our world of lovers that hate

Our world this perilous state

Our world of temptress & fate

Our world

You came to me from ancient

You came to me from time

You came to me so patient

You came in an inkblot design

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Double Two

Twin carburettor

Dual streams of passion

Couplings of chains and silkworms

Ever to be the effervescent

No place for lent

However well meant

I am intent on duplication

The creation of parallel lives

With tales of past and future wives

Knives drawn and daggers sharpened

Harp on about Mneme, indefinitely

She holds her sway, still here today

These six years or more thereafter

As dust in the rafters, her craft

And guile, her half forgotten smile

Combine to taunt & haunt me

Close to the whispering harmonica

Inspired to have found

Such rich and common ground

Her sounds are your sounds

You rebound to her love and care

With care and love

Above all of that

These five years

Or more of a passion

Drawn to draw upon

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Precept

It is so easy to forget

Oui, je n'ai aucun regret

It as taken a while, yet

The demons seem to set

With the loss of the abject

Pain, indeed o yes I wept

Once a week in step

Distanced there to bet

Payment for the let

Dust that never swept

Returned by avocet

Ache of deeper debt

Your hold as we met

It is my only one regret

All that I recall I beget

Yet just so soon forget

Of all the times I crept

In nights I never slept

With dreams to intercept

The love of love I kept

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Lief

I wait for the night to fall quiet

Will away the general hum

While the fading roar fall home

In this instance of one indigenous

Not altogether of this part

An instance then of distant county 

I am fair close to the rattling roads

A birthplace for noise

To warn of oncoming locomotion

In this instance of momentum

Or rather call to fading light

An instance of the minutiae

I wait for her steps to walk

Will off the past indifference

While her ageing steps tread on

In this instance of one more deception

Unfair to share as so far apart

An instance of the cruel misperception

I wait for no end of words

Will off the poets cleave

While still to deepen the disbelief

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Motif

She scrambles my timeless moments

Redefines my mind

And signs my dreams on the kerbs of waking

What of those moments

Might be recovered

Is it to feign to blow ones cover

And say the same is never the same

As it never was

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Counter

Dull mind, cold winds return

Grey skies dominate the horizon

What now of the sand and the sea

Of the suns heat laid onto bare bodies

Think then to the first introductions

Without innocence; witness rampant

Roots, of loves flaming associations

Dream then, of conversations

With permanence at heart

Rocking chairs on the verandah

Sing then of life's untold hold

On boundless joy; her counter

To doubts & the depths of despondence

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Strike

Ricochet from the cursor to the cursed

The walls of love thus collapse

Will I ever be complete

As flesh torn or organs drawn

Abstract licences crumble to dust

Yet, in defiance of sense, the worn

And weathered foundations are relaid

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Knowing Plight

Light dances on the water spray

Love and her dear romances

Reminders of the past

Come the darling month of May

All the while two bushes blaze

Fazed out towards the setting sun

The rushes hedge embrace the haze

In space it is, where relapse runs

The dance that was of pixies true

Love and her dark companion

Turned shadows into dreams

Of bleaker and blacker blue

Unknowing of the knowing plight

Two vessels coast upon the shore

In darker days their darkness fights

For the fabled key of the golden door

Their pairing of the spray and chance

In garments of the brazen

Struth; worn with bare & backless backs

On islands off the coast of France

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

K

Life begins as near on earth to a miracle

Through the screams of birth 

Life ends as far on earth from a miracle

Through the screams of death

Between near and far, between to and fro 

Between scream and scream

Between you and me and anything goes

Physically anything, mentally anything 

Anywhere, anytime

Anyhow, anyway

To imagine, going to do

To doing, remember having done

As in kiss

Kissing, kissed

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Advance

Wake with work in your head

For the sake of your soul

Take positive steps

Refresh the urgency of youth

Shake out the seed pods

Focus on the photographic plates

Settle the emerging turn of sunset

Sleep with a love of life in the air

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Friend

Friend

One who always is there to smile for

Better friend

One who is generous to a tee

Best friend

One who often sends you home a little tipsy

Best best friend

One who welcomes your friends as their friends

Friend

Who you shed tears for tonight

Better friend

Who you smile for as you cry

Best friend

Who is there to help however you need it

Best best friend

Who cares with such caring care

Friend and friend please to read this together

Better friend and better friend for you both to roar with laughter

Best friend and best friend; aren't you awful in your southern girlish drawl

Best best friend and best best friend take yourselves a tipple; take one more, for the longer road

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Waver

I could talk of the beauty of the morning

Of how the trees & hedgerows rejoice

Thanks to the refreshment of overnight rain

I could talk of the nights dream:

Suspicions, surveillance, shop windows, sex

Secret steep passages, string linked doorways

Darkness, death & the unwavering love

Of ones own mother

Here a time for contrast

New life, old uncertainties

Draw down your own conclusions

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Scape

To see not one person in the idyllic vista
To long for a certain someone in your arms
Ache at the sight of such immersible beauty
Nights indulgence of angels & spirits charms

I walked down True Lovers Walk
To the river, to the swans
I wandered, as if I was Hyperion
Let them talk, let them bloody well talk

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Sea Facing

Line of sight; cliff-top to cliff-top

Fog settled over sea and land

Echoes of a more confident time

Once majestic four storey terraces

Face proudly towards the shoreline

Their grimy cracked windows amplify

The corrosion of their iron balconies

Their dust covered doors welcome

Only the most unwelcome of guests

Time to turn, and about turn; no

This is not the joyous image

Conjured from strong accents

Reflected in sepia tone sunsets

This is not the leisurely bolt-hole

Where a days work might be rested

Where a nights dreams might begin

The search continues; inland I fear

To be away from the anticipated gear

That one assumes to surround decay

The dismay that is of a lost confidence

A lost purpose on the nations stage

Better the better people be found

I am not the man for it; too big a task

Needs immense imagination, boundless

Energy; for days, and nights, and weeks

Many months and years of rebuilding

Or children and parents & three more

Generations; all washing, washing

Their hands of the struggle, washing

The struggle right out into the sea

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Thread

The small details: fence post tops, frills on skirts, smiles in place of frowns. Each day, as though we might know that voice, the flowers grow, the grasses bend, the breeze blows over the meadow. The search engine searches, I sit back and sigh, if only life was catalogued more clearly then the file would already be found.

More routes to the ancient and modern: songstress, poet, meditations muse and mistress, her timbres rattle with the dust of gold. One strum of lute, one clap of hand on taut steel wired gut, one tap of foot on the reflex peddle of a soft bass drum, one whisper that wails to it's soulful crescendo. That moment swept over, to be lived no more, not by me, not by you, not even by your lover nor by any other once vainglorious scoundrel.

Thus the rivers flow, paced by the seasons; in spate, in drought, ever onwards, ever falling towards the moon-filled oceans. All of this to keep the loins anxieties at a distance, all of this to quell the rising flames of those once fierce and lustful emotions, all of this to close off, to close down the silent witness.

The small details; a man-made rill, silk embroidered pyjamas, transference where once there was doubt.

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Overdone

All the chic of the city

In a moorland village

Chocolate and beige

Monsoon purple stripes

In the style of Rothko 

Yet antlers above the fire

Mostly they are young

The staff that is, as befits

This swipe at modernism

But neither youth nor

This extravagant whim

Are in truth sustainable

The numbers don't add up

I sit alone in a tabled room

Set out for forty-four covers

It might be different

Come Saturday night

But the farmers hereabouts 

Know that one swallow

Does not a summer make

More's then the pity

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop