Psychological warfare

Friends talk of trauma
Of tough lifetimes
Of undue cruelty
And harsh associations

They talk with love
Deserve
For care
Soon to be rewarded

That time is here
In the saddlebag a mirror
For connections
To be fair reflected

Past troubles
Softened with hugs and
Embraces; quiet places
Found together

Fear, the muteness of dejection
Silently rejected
Even without
One word of reply

That was
Psychological warfare
For which
All are unprepared

Here love is clear
In these hands a cradle
For cares
Safely to be swayed

Past doubts
Smashed with endless action
With energetic research
Dashed with boundless fun


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Unregulated oblivion

Darkness she fairly
Scared you
Feared you there
Of the morning light

Never to be awakened
By mother
By nature or
Her morning knights

The sleep is such a treasure
Unregulated oblivion
Safe places
Safe and alone

Deep into darkness
Never to be awakened
Never to hear the cry

The joyful cry of life
Of happiness and bliss
Of softness or soft lips kissed

Darkness she now so rarely
Scares you
Without fear you bathe
In her golden morning light

Forever to be wakened
By mother, father and son
By brothers, sisters and lovers
Awakened by everyone

And all
Of those who site
The feared darkness of night



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Still

Just after the peak experience
Or not long after making love
Out on the highway
Somewhere between
The street and the sky

Old houses with flowered gardens
Mysterious celebrations
Untouched garlands just out of reach
In the soft haze of summer
Back beyond past centuries

Trinkets, fairies and geodesic domes
Flounce flared skirts
Tapes to the maypole twisted
With skips knowing of joy
The joy of unconditional love

Still time reflects on ever
As feet in dappled water
Out on the sandbank
Somewhere between
The neap and the tide

Still lines reflect now never
Meet my spangled saunter, wow
Out of the moment
Somewhere between
Where and why


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

Poets, painters and musicians

Over the water
Into kitchens full of stories
Of wizards and witches
Weather gods
To set the farmers free

Land below the water line
Beyond the freedom fields
Laid to rest long before the winter
Fallow fields this year
The odd fellow’s folds appear

Our endless deserts
Lost of love
Unquestioned in haste
Wandering families
Farmers and gypsies and
Bedouins in transit

Land above the waste line
Beyond the freedom fields
Stayed unblessed long before the sun
Cracked earth, as this year
Earth cracks re-appear

Over all our homelands
Care is overflowing
Falling over with love
Innocent children, hopeful of
Life itself; such as discovered by
Poets, painters and musicians
And all such ordinary people


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon

Jake

This is the morning
All of a muddle
All getting ready
To step into puddles
And catch the gravy trains

Down there in London
On the bus
On the tube
Rides in tunnels going nowhere &
Trains turning back home again

This is just a little while later
The garden gate swings open
Scented roses loud and proud
Stand out without of shrouds
In the full view of the meadow

Back here in Lincoln
In the cathedral, feet without shoes
Verses whispered
Songs unsung
Undone by rhythms and blues

This is the coffee time
Scones and jam and cake
Words fall over words stand by
Jake please
Rake those fake leaves away


A Poem from He waits for the Season - Her reason is clear available for Kindle from Amazon