Long lonely corridor
Trolley pushed
On cast iron wheels
Daily ritual
To feed
The seekers of peace
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
Friday, 5 July 2013
Thursday, 4 July 2013
To be One
A sink of vegetables
A long, still, longing view
To the distant hills of freedom
A tin passed silently, through
The cell door window
A long, still, longing view
To the distant hills of freedom
A tin passed silently, through
The cell door window
from
Looking Up The Hill :: Love To Make You Stand Back
Wednesday, 3 July 2013
One to Be
Art in such space
A place of such strong image
Passion; each head, each face
A book read, a path followed
A dash of pilgrimage
Tuesday, 2 July 2013
Listen & Observe (Into Great Silence)
From the mist to the prayer
Rising and falling
Knock on wood
Patience comes calling
Bells and bats
The shrieks of morning
Grey on blue
Snow flakes falling
Angled roof slates
Square stone wall
Heaven’s proof awaits
Again the bells do toll
A longer view
Light stripes on the mountain top
Seen through darkness
The mood maker’s opening shot
In hooded cloaks
Through massive doors
To pray with hope
Pray to level the scores
One last straggler
Limps so slow
The vespers men bet
He won’t dare show
A quiet room
With desk and chair
Words to learn
A solitary slayer
The wooden stove
Not yet lit
Warmth from without
Does not easily sit
Heavy & dull cloth
On a cutting room table
Grapes of Wrath
Bells ring, as of babel
The pace is slow, one has to say
Three quarter dark views
Leave the imagination to play
A cough, a clog, a candle zoomed
Nocturno sung; monks vent exalted
A flickering flame
Time lapse stars roam unclaimed
Throats cleared, chants not faltered
The blind one stumbles
Then finds a chair
With stick and gown, humble
His body of cloth layered in layers
They choose their smocks
As most men do
With a pull in of the waist
Arms stretched through
Half open doors, steps to the preacher
Light and shadow
Novices to the teacher
Probation with the venerable father
“Before you take the eternalisation
You have the freedom to leave”
In blackened robes, far from civilisation
They choose to stay, no time to grieve
Your life is their life
Their life is your life, beware
Blame all you want
As they shave their hair
Young man, craving
Younger than my son
Shakes off the shavings
A bolder time begun
A gentle song, softer notes
Fall though a communal prayer
Sunlight floats on falling dust motes
Youths expectant, not scared to share
Ventures; stars fall
Over light crested peaks
“Lord you have seduced me
& I was seduced”
Quiet, stillness, silence jinxed
An identity parade of faces
A single eye that winks
“I am seduced”
Monday, 1 July 2013
Row
Lavender fields steal away my resentment
Instead to reel off those whiled away hours
Wander among the rows of fragrant flowers
Shower the love as once the coastal towers
Powered another kind of intransigent war
Loss of love, touched along the shoreline
Unable to handle that which turns sour
The smitten intellect weaves with power
Seeds planted in rough ground scoured
Refined; a clumsy, cluttered kind of core
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