Slowly Molten

And the words we write
While free of all consequences
Might well talk of brilliant light arising

At or around four o’clock of the morning
Or speak of a pristine darkness falling
Into our souls, sometime after midnight

And the joy we feel, interminably
When caught out by past coincidences
That too is able to be rightful, or seasonal

Such as any time, in breeze, or calm
With love absent, or love by your side calling
To all those doubts hidden in the shadows

And the time to be delirious
With the warmth of well-fired furnaces
That burn now, or that have burnt before

With sparks, and flames, and magical
Vapours filled to overflowing, as if volcanic
Gasses, surging with red-hot desire, and emotion

Available on Kindle

Repeats

Words may be chosen at will
With formalised structure
Or randomly placed

Their roundabout; of path
Or journey, or coast to coast
Narrative, is of footsteps fallen

Lonesome steps, in the dry heat
Of summer; looking out to sea
From a haven of meadow grass

Lonesome steps, in the cold frosts
Of winter, piercing into the distant
Fields, where nature is taken to turn

To be the chosen one, or silently unspoken
Or the mildly flamboyant, and once more awoken
Onto whose hopes we might rest

Smile at their compilation, pass on
Some sense of their richness, and colour
For the days whose heads they may countenance

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In That One Afternoon

Not even the whole of it
Yet with ample time
To recollect one quarter of
A well lived life

And now the heart beats
And now the eyes smile
And now the lucid thoughts
And now…

Fight off the tears of nostalgia
Quash all hopes of return
Deny doubts of past indecisions
Crumple up those old forgotten notes

For yours is
Your life only
Your heartbeats, your smiles
Your new breath; for you alone to breathe

Available on Kindle

Half Ellipse

On the road, good and early
Through the morning light
Thoughts of the weekend
Mind drifting to vacation

Simplicity of one bright day
Energy to give energy
Life to give life
Love to give love

To enter a silence
A calm, of sorts
Wanting to be doing
Yet not knowing what to do

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Infinitely

From that opening
The chasm
With cracks around the edges

There was an outpouring
Or a way in
To a galaxy of stars

As if the mind itself
Was asking to be explored
Sung in tune with inner visions

Singing, welcome, welcome
That we might vibrate
Into your universe

Available on Kindle