Separate Houses

I went to look around a show home

A new development on the edge of the city

It was a Sunday afternoon

Full of rain and wind and cold

The floors had carpets

The windows had curtains

The central heating worked a treat

There was no television

I wrote to you that evening

Said I was sad that we were apart

Happy that I could give you a home

Lost across a sea of my own findings

The brochure said no deposit

Low interest for first time buyers

Solicitors and search fees paid

Assistance with relocation

I had lost all creative imagination

Beaten by my own past beliefs

This wasn't what you wanted

Of that I was uncertainly certain

Another time, I stood at the bus stop

Getting wet in the nights drizzle

I was happy, without sufficient reason

Though well clear of the developers estate

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Beaumont Salon

One sunshine Friday afternoon

Twenty and a few years before today

You should scrunch your hair

She said, when you blow dry it

A new place, a new town

A new island, a new rapturous love

Scrunch your hair, at the back

She said, as you blow dry it

Your hair sure looks good

My lover said; who's done it

Twenty and a few years before today

One sunshine Friday afternoon

From the Collection One Crow to a Tree - Love in Separate Houses available from Lulu

Noisier

I was loud, and boisterous

This did not fit well

With your gentleness, or calm

Age brought a quiet, a peacefulness

Though too late, for a measure

Among your angst of retribution

From the Collection One Crow to a Tree - Love in Separate Houses available from Lulu

Chimes of the Early Riser

Between the desire and the response a longevity, however brief, results. That the chequered window cover takes me there is either of some consequence or of no consequence. Such chance that the indigestion slows the mind, the potassium, however slowly, is on its travels. That I shake my head, to will away the dullness, says no more to me than I am still among the waking. With the clock stopped at some indiscriminate hour; time left there for the attention of the clock-winder. The day breathes its fresh life into the dank mist, soon the light, light that brings hope, so soon the light. To not have taken the best of sleep, to have had sleep taken away by inconsiderate conversations. These words could be approaching neurotic; that shadow will be fought, but first the thoughts have to be recounted.

The original plan was to cycle to open country, there to lay down on some verge or meadow. To write words that float with effervescent beauty; the grand evocations of love in all its embodiments. More like I will not make the movement, become otherwise distracted, or worse, otherwise employed. As if the opening of the evening primrose was not itself of such significant captivating magic. Here then the desire turns to longing, to amplify wanting seven fold, before eliciting a response. Just as wine matures through oak, and ages, let desire evolve also as a worldly potent fluid. To well up in all parts of the body and soul, confound the logical mind with its infinite possibilities. That this longing and wanting should occasionally settle should not instill doubt; it is an ever present. That it should rise and subside in unknown measure gives a certainty of its stealth for some response. If all you give out are doubt or subterfuge, if all you dare to cleanse are past half-owned untruths.

You might ask how to prevent this, or better you may open yourself to some clear, true & free space. Is this the stop to be afraid of, is this the fear that causes your indefatigable unconditional restraint. The muddled mind cannot reason why; to sidestep is its well practiced and chosen verse. That way to enter the fair light of morning, that way to edge away from the shrouds of uncertainty. Instead to walk away, close the questioners door, instead to turn to the chatter of the birdsong. Rehearse, and again rehearse, the words for the songbook; take a pen, to a few lines of rhyme.

From the Collection One Crow to a Tree - Love in Separate Houses available from Lulu

Departures

Before the journey settles into a rhythm

Almost at the beginning, if plainly told

My mind disrupts, triggered by the rain

From the Collection One Crow to a Tree - Love in Separate Houses available from Lulu