Temples And Greenhouses

Of course there are passions
Some days the blood courses, shooting
Rapidly through my ageing veins
On its erstwhile amorous mission
Soon I will move into the temple
Try to learn or understand
The significance of the decoration
Study the gold leaf deeper
As if I might be more indulged
By the incidental passions
You travel with me most places
Today is no way different
As I sit beside the flaming roses
To write, then maybe post
Another self-exploratory note
Another self-explanation postcard
The gathered crowd disperses
I will make my own quiet entrance
Although first an aide-memoir
Remember to look up the name
Of that bridge in Venice
The breeze turns over the page
The weather turned out ok actually
Soon we will have completed
One half of our prescribed teachings
One part-set, of our insight-meditations

Available on Kindle

Shoeing

As if on the last
As if on the line
No thought to surpass
Except of one of a kind

As if by the field
As if by the plough
Never a difficult yield
Except of one in the mind

As if on the road
As if to follow the sign
No experience to broach
Except of one rather benign

As if at the turn
As if all reason to mine
Shadows which lean to learn
As desire, of struggles to define

As if out of the tunnel
As if on to the final design
We darken the funnel
Fearful; of the mindless and blind

Available on Kindle

Otherness

Insufficient sounds
Voices as a racket
Hatches of tired imaginations
Fascinated by the newness
Bagging all of the beauty

How easily the mood changes
One more moment of walking
This time for the real one
This time without improvisation
A total absence of creation

Insufficient bounds
Sailing upon steam-packets
Catches of breath's paginations
Animated by the shrewd
Nagging to undo

How much harder; doubt
Dulls the thoughts now aged
This time for the real one
This time without a guide
To the left-field of light

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Once One by One

I wrote of the moment
I could think of nothing better
To set out the good times
And mail you the letter

I wrote of the fountains
And the rampant sea breezes
I wrote of the ramble
And your ever loving squeezes

I looked through the doorway
Onto a mirror of light
I looked to the floor-way
And remembered what might

I heard the birds chatter
As if by the shielings
Love is that fact of matter
Beside the potato peelings

Today I hope
You care for the letter
My heart hoped yesterday
Je ne regrettez

Available on Kindle

Down The Garden (Sunday Morning)

Enough distance to give distance
Enough wind to ruffle the sea
Enough willow to still the mind

Looking out on bending grass
Looking out on those breaking free
Looking out on sunlight & shadow

The mind is heavy
The body is heavy
The soul can't quite steady itself

There is bird noise
In and among the birdsong
There is physical discomfort
Astride the comfort of the pen

Heaven knows so few clouds
Across the blue sky
Heaven knows so proud
Just to settle down

Available on Kindle