In that time
To fall for the fallen
Thus stolen our life
Simmered with fear
Fallen for the fallen
All pain forsaken
With the final chance
Unable to reappear
Sunday, 17 August 2014
Saturday, 16 August 2014
No Need To Ask
One morning
Any one morning
Even this one
Where the damp air
Does not dampen the spirit
& why should that not be
After a dream of such
Gentle physical love
Shared without need
Gifts with pleasure given
Friday, 15 August 2014
The Pen May Relate A Quieter Tale
Of a kind drafted in beach huts
Where a cooler breeze might
Steal the heat of this moment
The heat of this ever so slightly
Overdone mind & body
Standing beside the railway tracks
As if, now again, back
In that workers boarding house
Deep in the suburbs of Plymouth
Or the B&B up on the Somerset levels
Where, into that faraway place
The roll and rattle faded to nought
Tonight it is as if the twenty-one
Thousand days and nights
Were also as good as gone
Thursday, 14 August 2014
Cusps
In this late time
At the time to welcome night
A universal sense of quiet
A quiet so easily welcomed
Taken at ease
As taken so many times before
A mirrored light reflected
Layers in the quarter bevelled
Ochres, khakis; washed out
Greens and gradients
Washed onto shores
Of pleasant past times
Into unexpected leave
Circled by bays
Perspex, held
To capture hidden
Ultra festive light
A mercurial feel of calm
A calm so simply claimed
Set aside, unbroken
As woken, so often, and no more
Wednesday, 13 August 2014
Fabled Unable
The fear, the recognition looming
Is to achieve naught
That is to leave this life without
Having reached out or touched
Life at the edges
To have read
The Picture of Dorian Grey
But not to have learnt or understood
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