To be in love
To have been in love
Six coins in the fountain
The sea of love
The three of love
Warm hearts
On snow capped mountains
Sunday, 5 October 2014
Saturday, 4 October 2014
Birdcage Of The Soul
At the very least it ought to be a reflective letter
A piece to look back a good distance, looking back
From the safe vantage point of lost communication
I have been taken by the vistas
On several occasions the multifarious hillocks
Would catch the evidently varying light
The machair, for that is these Islanders name
For the strip of land between dune and farm
Or between dune and croft
The machair would be lit as a line
To underline the horizon
That separates sea from sky
I expected to feel more touched
By the expanse of solitude
It has not been so
Not that one could say
That the Islanders revel
In parties or conversation
Perhaps they need a long breath of finer weather
& clearer skies, but they have not yet borne
Their dark weight upon me
I have this desire, an urge to open out my life
To take full advantage of all the beauty
You included, that has so far befallen me
This journey
Into and through my subconscious
To be chartered by my superficial soul
The writer, the voice
Though no singer, I do aim to carry songs
As would the reader, to and fro
From the birdcage of my soul
To steal the words
Of one song from everybody’s past
Friday, 3 October 2014
Delayed
Darkness calls around
Slight chill of autumn
Light whistle of wind
Up the fireless chimney
All the sounds of intern
On the backlit keyboard
A thankfulness blows
As if love called my name
I shape up to see the trees
Silhouettes in feint relief
The thief of another summer
My timeless breath fades
Thursday, 2 October 2014
Tongue & Groove
Sunlit Doors
Hasps, rasps, nobbles
Key locked & slide bolted
I sit on the step, half in shadow, half in light
The doors not insignificant security
Leaves me fairly well protected
It is a barrier from the onrush of parishioners
Those spirited attendees of a service
That would be difficult for me to attend
As I enter the chapel later all is quiet
It is clear of worshipers and tourists alike
I stand ever so still, to feel the magnificent privilege
Swim with venom into my veins
Run rampant throughout my hopeful mind
Give my soul these free words to rampage with
I am heavy in admiration of mortice and tenon
The carpenters surely fashioned this boldness
Making a statement, as carpenters sons are known to
Hasps, rasps, nobbles
Key locked & slide bolted
I sit on the step, half in shadow, half in light
The doors not insignificant security
Leaves me fairly well protected
It is a barrier from the onrush of parishioners
Those spirited attendees of a service
That would be difficult for me to attend
As I enter the chapel later all is quiet
It is clear of worshipers and tourists alike
I stand ever so still, to feel the magnificent privilege
Swim with venom into my veins
Run rampant throughout my hopeful mind
Give my soul these free words to rampage with
I am heavy in admiration of mortice and tenon
The carpenters surely fashioned this boldness
Making a statement, as carpenters sons are known to
Wednesday, 1 October 2014
Daybreaks
Shuffled feet, peak caps
Youths disengaged
At the bus stop
Hour-long hairdo's
Are dampened down
By the mornings mist
Down the road
A mile or two
The silver sun
Breaks through
The aching female
Sings her sultry song
Are you man enough
On the car radio
I ask myself
Am I man enough
To face the day ahead
With a certain smile
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