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