Various Variabilities

Her eyes fall on the red flag

Her sister’s faith dies away

What her swirling thoughts say

Is no more than volcanoes erupting

The distant cries act as kisses

Each headpiece thus adorned with love

There is no heed of the watchful wolf whistles

Only the silence stills the dancers

Beneath her gown her feet skip dainty pretty

Beneath her favour her heart leaps

The fear, too far away to shake her

She sways her soul to stray no more

A hundred shades of grey

Bring out the rose vermillion

A hundred cloths of ample daylight

Bring the scarlet to the freesia and the fuchsia

Why Couldn’t You

It was a landscape

In which I was settled

Every day

I re-assembled the fields

After the farmer’s work was done

Then, one morning

After another pagan ritual

It was I who gathered

The remains of the dying embers

Was I the first to rise

Or had others seen

The dark turn into light

Watched the foil tops being fitted

And the churns taken away

The snow

Was not here yet

But it would be calling

Play with me

Play with me

I am your nemesis

Waiting On

I was already out there

And several times

I had been rejected

I knew of rejection

And doubt, its not yet

Too apparent bedfellow

But I was loud

Also foolish; yes

I pressed on

Unrelenting, relentless

I had many sores

Still to pick

Or to pour over

Stood at the bar

Watching you dancing

Waiting for the interval

Or the intermission

As it’s called in the movies

Where I would

Most definitely

Have bought you a vanilla ice-cream

Of course you could have refused it

But why would you

It wasn’t for anything

Touched By Timing

All those pages of handwriting

With sloping margins

What is that all about

How easily do I trawl

My deep sub-conscious

All those skies full of rain

Around the silver and the grey

Where does the wind rise

So far from the raging seas

Of our universal unconscious

What then of the smoke

From the small shed’s chimney

Who did light the fire

On the warmest day of winter

When the weather gifts consciousness

And so the clock chimes

After who knows how many years

See just what can be achieved

Through the turning of a key

In the half-light of the semi-conscious

Divination

The sleeves on my vest

Or base layer as Finisterre

Choose to call it, ride up

To sit above my elbows

It is a minor irritation

Although I am not sure

That it warrants a complaint

But perhaps a query to quality control

Instead to watch Gen Kelsang Nyema

Focussing on the positive frame of mind

I am asked to sit comfortably

Feet on the floor, hands in my lap

Which is much as I began the day

And so so settled did I become

That sleep welcomed me into its house

Until the meditation alarm woke me

And now I have been told

That I am infallible, though

I do believe sarcasm may be involved

I would anyway have preferred unfathomable

Like the bicycling man from Sheffield

Who followed his dream

Or rather he followed his gut instinct

And all turned out, sort of, ok