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Friday, 31 January 2014

Out of Touch

Too deep to reach
Too far, back in to sleep space
Yet I have the urge, the desire, to be there
I am left uncertain
I am unable to reconstruct the present goings on

Yet I once was a patron
Indeed I instigated and partook personally
In many of the both joyous and disastrous occasions
My seal or stain will be in the DNA
Of any investigation

My conversations, meditations
And mood swings
Will be in the very fabric, among
The ether of any of the more recent
Real or imagined gatherings


This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book with audio cd from  poetryshop 

Thursday, 30 January 2014

Packed

I see a much younger incarnation of Mneme, running up the stairs in a short twirling dress that I realise now she never would wear.

I am worried about our son, I have not heard from him for a while. I fear he is taken to drugs.

I am in Mneme's bedroom painting over a blue black patterned wall, with white emulsion paint; perhaps a mirror had been glued to the wall for there is a rectangular residue of glue and sealant.

I spill some paint onto the bedding, then as Mneme enters the room and moves towards me I spill even more paint onto her blouse.

There is an immense sexual tension building within me, and I can feel reciprocation. Yet tomorrow I have a must attend meeting to attend, many miles away. I need to leave now, but should I throw that all away for the sake of a night of passion.

The blue, for it may be significant, was a mid to dark blue, not royal blue nor Prussian blue by any means. But a blue of one of the my grammar school houses whose name presently escapes me ( I was in Armitage, a full on strong yellow). 

Also the blue of the blue and black of the shirt that I bought to wear for work in Dublin, and that I also wore to the following years Christmas party.
That was the last time me and Mneme danced and sweated so intimately and effusively together.

The black rectangles are more than shapes, though only outlines they remind me of castles or minarets. There is definitely a touch of antiquity. 
Yet the importance, or implications and meanings, of these well built structures, that are now reduced to irregularly broken lines, eludes me entirely.


This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book with audio cd from  poetryshop 

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Hold On

Take these half closed eyes
Not yet ready for their pennies
Take me with them, half way
Into your kaleidoscopes, & all, or
Half way to the modern-artists crimsons

Take these de-mystified lenses
Not yet to concede, or give in
Send them half way to paradise
With your surprises; rampant
Rapturous crystals piled ever high


This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Tuesday, 28 January 2014

As

Crinkled skin locks one in
As securely as the orange peel
Feel at bay, held away; sweet or sour
The zest will not shower
Nor your trapped love flower
Given the day, given the hour

Stumbled heart feints in ones part
As unsure as the buckled wheel
Deal to stay, kneel and pray, flutter
Or murmur, the rate will not earn
Her condolence or consent
Given the moon, given the stars


This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop 

Monday, 27 January 2014

Cabin

Hemingway you said
Read a little Hemingway
Listen to some old Buddy Rich records

Perhaps a bite to eat, smorgasbord or the like
All of this sat by the log fire
With flames away up the chimney

Outside the snow falls
The pathways from the woods are iced over
Those once lively animals have settled

Into burrows and nests, there is no wind
The tufts of grass are all but hidden
By the settled flakes of joyous alimentation


This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book, and audio cd from  poetryshop