Pages

Friday, 11 December 2020

Abode To Abide

I did not bring a towel

So this will not be easy

Soon the sweat beads will arrive

Soon the perspiration

Will dampen the paper


Also steam up the thoughts

Take the passions

To a higher place

To a hotter place

To that way of no being


I did not go beyond

Those 43 beads of sweat 

Instead into the courtyard

To the breeze, to the light

To the love of life reflected


The water (to drink) is cold

The attendant keeps herself busy

It has taken me a couple of days

But I have now found

My spiritual home


Thursday, 10 December 2020

Spa Courtyard

Space

Space, tree

Space, tree, air


Music

Music, tree

Music, tree, air


Glass

Glass, tree

Glass, tree, air


Wall

Wall, tree

Wall, tree, air


Space, music, glass, wall

Tree

Tree, air


Wednesday, 9 December 2020

Probe

I walked

I walked within you

I chalked lines on the wall

For those days you were not there


I had hopes

High hopes within you

I could, in truth, not cope

Without you standing there


I saw light

Bright light within you

Yet, out of sight

You scared me by not being there


I had time

Time a plenty with you

Yet time so so slowly passed

With your absence still anywhere but there



Tuesday, 8 December 2020

With Compliments

Thunder

Right above us

Thunder

Ten miles or more away

Thunder

At the end of summer

Thunder

With slowed down music

Thirty-seven years

Of perpetual motion

Champagne at the ready

Corks popping

For my birthday girl

Also at the ready

White buildings

Clay tiled roofs

Early evening sunsets

Late on in life

In Ibiza

Among our fifteen minutes of fame




Monday, 7 December 2020

Storm Like 1992

Then the rains came

With the lightning

With the thunder-cracks


Huddled in the lobby

Ready to make a run for it

To the distant bedrooms


A riotous crash of thunder

I jumped backwards

From the balconies bannister glass


A silent flash of light

Across the grey-white skies

All the while the rain was relentless 


Taking me back to that time

In the hotel in Jamaica

Where the rain was falling like curtains


Drawn down from on high

Gifts, to the mystics, to the ghosts

Who had called natures forces upon us