Move Meant

Halfway remnants
Towards lost conversation
As if the penance
Saves me from the station
With the derailed trains
And the boats about to set sail

Half day quiet
Too early to pray
As if the deliberation
Staves off the delay
Ghosts move; loose, frail
Hopeless as the empty pail

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Stifled

Involuntarily out of action
Unable to remember
How to get out of the bath
Unable to work out
How to get up off the floor
Unable to determine
How to take the first steps
Down the staircase

A need for further analysis
Of this temporary, yet
Significant paralysis:
Fear of pain blocks action
That would cause pain
A link in the chain
That halts all domains

Voluntarily I seek to dispute:
Able to maneouvre
And rise from the water
Able to turn over
And push up from the floor
Able to find support
And tread ever so lightly

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Outliers

You wouldn’t know anymore
I hardly know myself
Hanging there
In the smoke-stream
Of the discotheque
Almost weightless, yet heavy
With memories and scents
Deities of the youthful life

There is movement, I recall
At least I remember
The lithesome gyrating bodies
In the half-light and sparkles
Of the warm pulsating dance floor
Your presence; immense yet distant
Beyond the first continuum
Deity of the useful life

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In The Middle Of The Night

Grey steeds rage across the plains
Pickpockets of our disappointments
Railings, yew trees and headstones
Invite the pigeon noises to join me

That I would remember your body
Held tightly, carefully in my arms
That I would welcome the insecurity
Walk together, walking up to the tarn

The deserted dust of all our yesterdays
Pains of past and previous associations
Failings, times to displease, left alone
To invite the selfish poise to become

I sit here again as I have sat here before
It is one of my workday lunch retreats
Escaping as evermore, yet still unable
To be dark, or light, or anywhere at all

As if already I am forgetting, a few hours
Ago we held on to each other, possessing
Thus the ability, to shut out the doubts
Stronger together, stronger than one

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Inclusive

There warms
That heat of sun
There cools
That chill of breeze

All is, as all could be
Birds and buggies
Adults and children
Sculptures and trees

Always here
A certain stillness
With the birdsong’s
Chatter and conversation

Always here
A certain peace
With the easy way
And the endless means

There was that heat of sun
There was that chill of breeze
All was, as always could be
Shadows and clouds and
Light and reflection

The glass topped cabinets
Told a different kind of story
Of Land Art
Artists explaining away
Their own contemplations

This is not for everyone
As if to share
Another’s soul searching
Brings one too close
To ones own insecurities

It is the breeze
That brings me back to life
It is the dappled sunlight
On the water
And among the grasses

It is the sight of herons
Nesting and in flight
It is that good
Good Friday
Goodness abroad once again

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