Ponder This

There is always danger
Or perhaps there always has to be a hint of danger
There is always second-guessing
Or perhaps there always has to be an element of second-guessing

But what of that moment
When the thought arrives on its own
Yes, what of that moment
When the dialogue speaks for itself

It did happen, I am sure, I am certain
Yes, absolutely that did happen
Even if the recollection
Is neither true nor clear

Better though to mention it
Like the whisky with the water
Like the tonic with the gin
Better to unveil slowly

Page after page after page
Be the devil for the Christians
Be the Buddha for the monks
Let there always be danger
In the arcades of the sun

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Young Man’s Words

Over the river
Four or five times
Beside the city walls
Four or five times
Asking for directions
Just the once
Ice cream for breakfast
With yoghurt & muesli on the side
All doors to open at ten-thirty
However long that silly old lady
Argues with the security guard
Outside of the mansion house
All of this before the bliss
The pure bliss
Of the Buddhist film
Walk with me

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Butterflies

And ten years on
I hear that song
As if yesterday was today

There, down The Strand
With your voice firmly in command
Your beauty at sway, there as if to say

On Cartworth Moor, as a lad
Away from places poor
In cricket whites
With disco lights
A time I was so sure

Yet to endure, the end of a romance
As Christmas came apart from love
To be told, no more; o broken heart
You were a broken boy that day
That day, just as any other

On Cartworth Moor, as a dad
Away from traces dour
With afternoon sights
Of clover so bright
This time I wasn’t so sure

Yet to the lure, of ones mum
And ones wider family drum
To be told how good you are
Even from distances far
That day, just as any other

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Something Comes Upon You

It was that quirksome I moment
Which I know you also encounter
It was home alone in the oneness
With each move or breath we make

A pause for the soul
With no one to pass by
An effortless experience
With joy to wonder why

So I steadied the ship
And entered another’s text
Into the hard-back black-book
After A what is to come next

But it is On Raglan Road
Where first I must tread
Once more towards The Gresham
Where men of Cloth are fed

Knowing all the while
That there the doppelgänger runs loose
Catching me by the coattails
With her glimpse for a noose

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Introvert Love

I watched two videos yesterday
Poetry videos of the poem
How To Love Your Introvert

First a dreamy theme
Accompanied by a piano
A male voice, with slight echo
But the star was a woman
A woman, a bed, a house
A forest with leaf filled floor
A woman swimming underwater
And of course a view over the lake

Second, the author himself reading
Kevin Yang in a solo performance
At a poetry slam, where his words grow
As the clear encouragement
Of the audience builds up
Especially as the vehicle
Of their transmission, as he smiles
Is laughter

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