Pages

Monday, 16 March 2015

30

Pitch black
Out of the windows
Turning slow to light
Tree branches wave
Wild in the wind
I felt excluded
Set out to be set alone
Unable to soften
Unable to reach you

Intolerably awkward
Disingenuous
How to salvage compassion
Or best to pass on the baton
All of this before
The rains came
And the music played

All of this before
The tea and the toast
And a warm bath


Sunday, 15 March 2015

29

What then
With a new beginning
What then
With no end in sight

What then
With no purpose given 
What then
For fight or flight

Pages and pages
Books of blank paper
Thoughts and thoughts
Finding hopes of continuity

Ages and ages
Searching is a right caper
Noughts and noughts
Climbing ropes for security

What then
With a new halfway
What then
It's moving on, right

What then
If still squandering
What then
Of that second sight


Saturday, 14 March 2015

28

Some people are steady, as those beautiful waves, that lap gently to and fro, on the vast expanse of golden sands

There are also those, less steady, who like their music played loud, and thrive on explosions in the sky

Then there are the lucky ones, those free spirited souls who step easily from one path to the other; one day rich with laughter playing hopscotch or marbles, one day reflecting quietly reading their latest book; or else they are to be found, drunk as lords, with friends in the pub, or asleep on the grass verge


Friday, 13 March 2015

26 & 27

There is a church
With a small spire
It shows a precision
Which its diminutive
Clock face signs off

—————————

One hundred Monday mornings
One hundred photographs along the way
Glimpses of the mood
Captured in that wellspring of emotion
Notes made on the road
More of the Christopher & less of the Kerouac


Thursday, 12 March 2015

25

I have been heavy handed, but
Not in a heavy-handed sort of way
More of having the will to impose my will
On those I thought in need of guidance

Some might say that I was stubborn, yes
In that stubborn-as-hell kind of way
But more I feel as a demonstration
Of my own damned and wretched inflexibility