Sound Bath

Could I write of the lost worlds
Would that be those worlds
Which are never to return

Could I spurn the chance to proffer
What it seems, has been and gone
What is now dark, yet once which shone

Might I offer good times, and better times
Memories of whence we bounced along
To the rhythms of the old Tibetan gong

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Set Aside

The dark light of distance
Arrives around noon
Brought on in this instance
By yesterday evening’s moon

As the schooners set sail
With their sails raised high
No future to fail
Naught to sell, or to buy

As the roses wobbled
And the double doors creaked
The old man hobbled
While the youngsters streaked

The mind in space
Or at least halfway still
Twisting the lace
Of the wandering will

Though the heavens do help
More than ever you know
Harvesting the kelp
For winters to stow

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Worn

Another stone the distance
Another stone to hold closed the door
Although, in this instance
Another stone to begin the score

A bass stone, a treble stone
A water stone on which to pour
A trumpet stone, a cymbal stone
A sky stone on which to roar

A smooth stone, a rough stone
A callous stone, which says no more
A fondling stone, a feeling stone
A hopeless stone, hopeless at the core

A symphonic stone, a drone stone
A calling stone, laid down on the floor
A timbre stone, a chanting stone
A holding stone, hidden in the drawer

An echo stone, a dissonance stone
A flighted stone, for the song to soar
A tumbling stone, a rolling stone
A moss covered stone, I swear she swore

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Dark Dawn

A car goes down the drive
It is six in the morning
Is my elderly neighbour well
Has his grandson found a new job
Is the world everywhere
Slowly awakening, preparing
For a new dawn
A fresh light over the horizon

There is a stillness, a calm
Carried by the darkness
It is as if a secret is being shared
As you might have done
In the junior school playground
With your new best friend
You might even have whispered

No point now then to go back to bed
You have an early doctors appointment

In an hour or so; when the water is warm
You can take a bath
Have a few minutes of blissful release
As you submerge yourself
Physically, and metaphorically

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Tether (End Of)

I am no good with pain
I do not bear it well
I am not fond of suffering
I am absolutely no saint

My current dilemma
Is that the longer I sleep
The more painful my shoulder
When I wake

It’s like a good night out
The better the evening
The more joyfully inebriated
The fiercer the hangover

Or with matters of love
The deeper one throws oneself in
The harsher the heartache
Upon dissolution, upon closure

I know I should be grateful
I am grateful, for the good times
Yet, in the black of this night
I do not take to pain too easily

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