Festival - Kumbh Mela

If this isn’t the time

When would be ok

If I wasn't to give a sign

What would you have me say

And so we begin

Floating through the water reeds

Same as it ever was is our sin

Turning time back to misspent deeds

If that wasn’t the case

What would be the truth

If I hadn’t joined the race

Would I be here and not aloof

And so we end

Walking on the open moors

Same as it ever was is to lend

The season to our universal cures

  

Storytelling - Along The Line Of Life

One man’s life

Told as the story of a river

An unfolding continuum of one-page sketches

One for each year of his life

But beginning in mid-life

The story is told backwards and forwards

One man’s life

Lets me settle

Into one man’s life

Then the postman knocks on the door

To deliver the story

Of another man’s life

Homeless, with mental issues

One man’s life

This man

In care

Except that, yes

It could all disappear

In a line on a page

Or thanks to a disadvantaged mother

  

Playing - At Being The Architect

There is a flat platform

A flagged square

Or rectangle

This could be the starting point

There is a gradual slope

Lawn and flower bed

To a tall tree in the corner

This is the body of the story

Beyond the conifer

And over the low wooden fence

Is the track, unmade and uneven

This has to be the way out

  

Gifts - And Recriminations

What you took

Is nothing near

What you have

But you did take

The whole damned lot

Left not an ounce of love

What you shook

Is nothing near

That closest shave

But you did shave

The whole damned lot

Left not a sign of stubble

What you look at

Is nothing near

The book you read

But you did read

The whole damned lot

Left not a word out of sorts

  

Treasures - Of The Moments

A lack

Of love

Of self

Of confidence

Of interrogation

Or explanation

A need

To wait

To pause

To delay

To become more

Or less assured

A departure

Heavy eyelids

Dry mouth

A longer view

Ever so slightly

Out of focus