Vagaries

Her physical size

In the apparition

Brings a comfort

Also her just ease

At following, ever

So slightly behind

As you, somewhat 

More pronounced

Opened your heart

And the three of us

Strode out, off into

The full day’s sun

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

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

Gloss

There was a photograph

Of the Italian restaurant

At the cross roads of Regents Street and Piccadilly

There was a photograph

Of the red lighthouse

Where we listened to the historian & film maker

These are in a magazine

Issued free to hotel guests

Partly to celebrate the area, also so that travellers 

May feel more at home in their retereat surroundings

We had eaten in the very same San Carlo Cicchetti

It was the occasion of my sixty-first birthday

We drank a glass of forty-nine pounds a bottle Barolo wine

Passed on a taste of our dish, to the Irish American travellers

We had met the historian and film maker by that red

Lighthouse, near the wobbly statues at South Shields

We were n our way to the Hebridean Isles via Sunderland

Edinburgh, Findhorn and Ullapool; he gave me a business card

Such that memories are remembered, in half-empty

Hotel rooms; such that triggers are triggered again

Wherever and whenever the sun goes down

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

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

Ripon 9:30

I was brought here by the silence

Although there is more to it than that

For I may bring other friends with me

That they might share the place I’m at

I am dusted by the heavy reverence

Also freed, by the gentler platitudes

I take in the flower arrangements

They beautify, they ask me to include

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

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

Love & War

I never fought a soldier’s war

Neither did I face the insurgent’s gun

But I have been ever so deeply lost with love

I’ve wept tears, as of death, beneath endless suns

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

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

Inside Here is The Song

Words give me the distance, the safety of abstraction

To be physically close would set off again the explosions, as when one flake of snow institutes the avalanche.

You are hundreds of miles away, far from these grey, grey skies; it is as if the beaches, the seas, the sands, the blue skies, the vast horizons are now just in dreams.

I will sit quietly to reflect, somewhere to find a small pasture. The tears are dry, just like the trees that struggle for leaf, they also are pitiful for exposure.

In this imaginary way I can place you, place you where I choose to, or where I wish to place you. In this sadness (but still at play) I can wish you the best of wishes.

I am being drawn, to the city, where we stayed and went on night-time ghoulish walks. The dull ache increases with intensity. I wonder about all the times that I escaped. 

Five trees, bare of leaf; crescents set against the silver-white, sky-blue sky, beside the military airport from where young soldiers fly.

All is introspective, all is undecided; is it that, which I search myself? I search myself for my self; without going on the motorcycle journey, without climbing to the tops of the Monroe's or the higher mountains.

I am here to say I love you, I know you are where you are, but I am here, here to say I love you

I could say that I have loved you, to say it was the past, but the truth is, my truth at any rate, is that love doesn’t go away. I am here to say I love you.

It isn’t that I don’t want to be with you, but it is safer, to be here, to be here and able to say I love you.

It isn’t that I don’t want to sleep with you; to feel your warmth, to taste your lips, to fumble with your silk perfumed negligée. It’s just safer to say those things from here, here; the place where I safely can say I love you.

Each connection has all the pain and heartache of disconnection, each new trial of reconnection is a blindness that madly finds me.

It’s not that I don’t want you to find me, but it’s safer, for everyone, if you don’t start looking. It’s not that I’m trying to remind you, its just that I’m safer, safer here, here to say I love you.

You may be with a new lover, I will try to not let that disturb me, but it’s another sound reason why it’s safer to be here, here, in this place where I safely can say I love you.

I too am with another; I love her and she loves me, it’s better that way, it’s how I’d like it to stay, another reason to stay here, so that I can say, safely, here I am, safe to sing, I’m still in love with you.

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

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