Limerence

I don’t ever let go
Neither will I on this day
Saturday night is alright for dancing
As they say
Down down, deeper and down
Beyond the fires flickering flame
Further even than the howling wind
Closer up than the lead on the windows

Tip tap goes the snapped glass
Pass yourself off as a lover do you
The one-time mother of intervention
Sense all of what it is which I sense I say
Turn over a new leaf
That last fallen leaf of autumn
Snatch the glory from the thief
With the intensity of such fond found belief

I would have asked, but didn’t
For fear of what we now call rejection
Such attention which overcomes
With howls, with tears, with despair
I do hope to explain, in the coming days
I have brought a book to help me
Yet, in this moment, or so it seems
We are the first case study

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Entry Point

The door slams shut behind me
The sign on the door says

Enclosure
Strictly Private

I have left the choir practising
They will be back at seven
For the real reason thing

I am in a different room
Which will I think, be quieter
Though it is beside the kitchen

I have left my charging devices
For iPad and iPhone at home
Also the shoulder soothing wheat-bag

John asked
Do you stay in a monastery cell?
No

It is en-suite with a carpeted floor
A mock, log-effect electric fire
Yet there is peace

Other than the wind noises
It is entirely quiet
A good place for a few days

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Film

I do not mind doing voice-overs
But I do not wish to be filmed whilst speaking

I do not mind writing the narrative words
Though I do not want to be filmed when writing

I do not mind walking on contemplative walks
But I do not wish to be filmed contemplating

I do not mind being the one who is the one
Though I do not wish to be filmed as if being the one

I do not mind being a part of the stillness
But I do not wish to be filmed as that stillness

I do not mind being a part of the silence
Though I do not wish to be filmed as that silence

I do not mind being a part of the prayer
But I do not wish to be filmed in that prayer

I do not mind being up in the middle of the night
Though I do not wish to be filmed during the night

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Mute, Dumb

You chose not to say hello
Or to say goodbye
Let alone any promise whatsoever
To see you later
How deeply I must have hurt you
To make you so so unsure of yourself
How could I have known the silence
My silence, would deprive you of your life

Yet I continue to beat myself up
For you are my secret
My secret to begin with
My secret to take with me along the way
You go into your room
You close your door
What have I done
That you wish to evade me so

Why do you detest me so
That you cannot bear
For me to see you
Or for you to see me
Of course I may be way off course
You may have other reasons for your privacy
And it may just help you
That I don’t try to rock your boat

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This Is It

If I might remember
Those moments of pure calm
Those times I think to call love
Love to see more, or love to see less
For it is almost nothing
This view, this thought
This time for contemplation
Which some may call Zen

On one day in November
Not continuously dry
Nor forever sunshine
But pleasant, yes pleasant
I took my camera
My notebook and my pencil
I walked through the round garden
Towards the white bridge

I stopped awhile, to write
Some pressing words
I stopped, to take
Some indicative photographs
I was alone
But I was not alone
I had love
I had my memories

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