Into the darkness of the day
Came the light of grace
That is, whatever for you defines grace
I said that if your intention is to say that
Then there must be no ambiguity
Your words need to be sure, secure, and clear
For only with absolute clarity
Can your voice be passed on
To meet with the next man
I could see and sense the unease
Your brow ruffled
Your lips quivered
Being tied down is not your kind of thing
Always desirous of space in which to move
Nevertheless your desire, or hope
For your words to be understood
Perhaps even widely transmitted to boot
Ensures some level of acceptance
As other's guidance becomes palpable
In the lightness of the mood
There was a casual consensus
About how the previous four poets
Had all placed themselves
At the very beginning of their poems
(As if all had been students of Fred D'Aguiar)
And they had all introduced
Something ever so slightly
Out of the ordinary
In such a way as to turn
An ordinary phrase
Into a poetic utterance
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Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Wednesday, 20 May 2020
Tuesday, 19 May 2020
The Meditators Alternative Songbook
It didn’t happen that way the next day
Then I was observing the meditation
As opposed to being in the meditation
I was wanting to confirm my experience
As opposed to allowing
The experience to flow into me
I had said, a couple of nights ago
That if we each took time
To concentrate deeply
On a period from our past
Then we would uncover
Many well-shrouded memories
And music may well help that
Especially if happenstance or choice
Might provide comforting
And inspiring sounds
Or if chance and doubtfulness
Find another pathway to follow
I had spent quite some time enabling the iPod
Such that now I feel obliged
To listen to the songwriter’s sad song
Yet I feel for him
That it is a recollection of beauty
Or for the seeker
Who seeks a purpose for his life
And meditation, or surrender, may help that
Especially if the mind’s silence
Becomes present in the moment such that
I can follow the strands of the story
Just as occurred with The Lark Ascending
Then I was observing the meditation
As opposed to being in the meditation
I was wanting to confirm my experience
As opposed to allowing
The experience to flow into me
I had said, a couple of nights ago
That if we each took time
To concentrate deeply
On a period from our past
Then we would uncover
Many well-shrouded memories
And music may well help that
Especially if happenstance or choice
Might provide comforting
And inspiring sounds
Or if chance and doubtfulness
Find another pathway to follow
I had spent quite some time enabling the iPod
Such that now I feel obliged
To listen to the songwriter’s sad song
Yet I feel for him
That it is a recollection of beauty
Or for the seeker
Who seeks a purpose for his life
And meditation, or surrender, may help that
Especially if the mind’s silence
Becomes present in the moment such that
I can follow the strands of the story
Just as occurred with The Lark Ascending
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Monday, 18 May 2020
The Good, The Bad and The...
From Spring Vale to Cutting Edge
From Jiving K Boots to Percy Sledge
On Tuesday nights and Thursday nights
Following the mobile discotheque
Young girls losing their cares
Young boys saying what the heck
Tuesday and Thursday at the discotheque
Spring Vale to Cutting Edge and what the heck
Would you dance with my friend
She fancies you a lot
I’m only asking because she is quite shy
Would you dance with my friend
Go on give her a shot
I’m only asking because
I don’t want to see her cry
Tuesday and Thursday at the discotheque
Spring Vale to Cutting Edge and what the heck
So we danced and we danced
And I walked her home
I was smitten
Truly I fancied her quite somewhat
So we danced and we danced
And we were no more alone
I should have asked for her number
But I forgot
From Spring Vale to Cutting Edge
From Jiving K Boots to Percy Sledge
Dance with my friend?
Not a chance, not one jot
Dance with me you inexperienced youth
I can show you
How to taste and sense the sweeter spot
Dance with me
I want you to be wild and uncouth
Tuesday and Thursday at the discotheque
Spring Vale to Cutting Edge and what the heck
So we danced and we danced
And we didn’t go home
We were rampant together
Were we not
So we danced and we danced
And we clung to the bone
I should have asked for her number
I know that was the plot
Tuesday and Thursday at the discotheque
Spring Vale to Cutting Edge and what the heck
No one to dance with
All to do is stand and stare
They are both with boys
Of more than equal to your size
No one to dance with
So try to look as if you don’t care
Let them know they’ve missed
Their greatest prize
From Spring Vale to Cutting Edge
From Jiving K Boots to Percy Sledge
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Sunday, 17 May 2020
A Reflected Poem
Now I understand the spectrum
Yes, the colours of the rainbows
Yes, the tones of love
Yes, the care in those eyes
If only to follow
To follow without thought
To follow without hope
Taking on board not one thing
Yet overwhelmed by the beauty
Confounded by oneself
Without reason
A life otherwise dictated
Caught in a vague recollection
Of once before
Being subject
To a seasonal fallout
A harsh sentence
No more to it than that
So, as Chumbawamba sang:
I get knocked down
But I get up again
I can see
I can breathe
I can move
I can rest
I can do anything I want
Well, almost
Yes, the colours of the rainbows
Yes, the tones of love
Yes, the care in those eyes
If only to follow
To follow without thought
To follow without hope
Taking on board not one thing
Yet overwhelmed by the beauty
Confounded by oneself
Without reason
A life otherwise dictated
Caught in a vague recollection
Of once before
Being subject
To a seasonal fallout
A harsh sentence
No more to it than that
So, as Chumbawamba sang:
I get knocked down
But I get up again
I can see
I can breathe
I can move
I can rest
I can do anything I want
Well, almost
Available on Amazon |
Saturday, 16 May 2020
Studious Daydream
I have this openness
This easiness
I am in that place
Where distractions
Haven’t yet engaged me
But I can hear birds
Both chirping and squawking
Some in bushes, some in flight
This easiness
I am in that place
Where distractions
Haven’t yet engaged me
But I can hear birds
Both chirping and squawking
Some in bushes, some in flight
Available on Amazon |
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