December is …

.. a sturdy-looking bridge,

Promising support and safe passage

To further sanctuary bank,

But trips you with secret ice traps,

Throws you down and

Chills your heart and soul …

 

… a magnificent horizon-wide bonfire:

Wholesome company, delightful magic and

Warm soup camaraderie –

All long gone by the time you get there:

Just the distant mocking stars

Looking down, sneering…

 

… a fierce-barbed fence, you knew

Had to be there, but which surprised you, anyway;

Bringing you up sharply,

Making you pause to think,

Forcing decision’s risky dice throws:

Go back?

Climb over?

Go round?

 

… a frameless window with high, wide views

That, while you watch,

Becomes a mirror:

Throws you back,

Unexpectedly, violently

Against yourself …

 

… a one way, northbound nose bleed ticket

For deck space on a dark-light

Iceberg clipper, heading for the

January border, so near, yet so far away.

Sleep well skipper;

Fare well fellow passengers,

We’re all in this together.

 

30/11/2012

Highwayman Sky

Journeygods temporarily satisfied

I’m falling, all too willingly

Into a highwayman sky –

Reality’s Greased Tarot boards

Tumbling, so easily away.

Gentle, borrowed light

Has fine dark edges;

I hear distant traces

Of thin, deep lines of music.

Smoke carries shadow stories

That twist and change.

 

Prodigal silhouettes are returned

To the harvest yard again.

The almost invisible

Possesses undeniable beauty.

 

29/11/2012

Jonah ?

Are you truly suggesting

That my god was

Swallowed by a monster

Sent by god, as punishment

(That’s my god – again),

That became enlightenment

That my god had

Already planned –

Before he set sail ?

 

That the thunder

Above the waves is

As loud, as dangerous

As that below them ?

 

I need some serious time

To think on this.

 

27/11/2012

 

Always Written

Long greyfeather clouds

Carrying blue-light poison

To the moon;

Memory’s desperate fox

Cannot help, doesn’t

Have the stretch or

The strategies.

 

“Far away, far away,”

The young ones hopefully chant –

Distracted by bright-fool images –

As though it could, ever, be enough.

 

But patient snow

Is too silver-slow.

Last night’s secrets are

Always written on the ground.

 

26/11/2012

 

Conversation…

I have to think,

Whenever I speak to you

These days,

That you are

Not as fast now

As I remember

You were …”

The goldfish is in

Mid-flow.

Big rains came down,

Heavier than the

World had known.

“I need to remind you,”

The walnut replied,

“Your memory

Is not as sharp now

As it used to be …”

Strong winds impatiently

Re shaped the land.

“Sorry,” the goldfish frowned,

“What were we talking

About just then?”

25/11/2012

Kite Talker

There’s always going to be

Change,drama, weather

Between the black rock

And the jungle beach;

But nobody smiles

Like the Kite Talker does –

Every ballet finger, string

And red sail performance

Relaxed and engaging.

Names can’t always be changed.

Accept the ultimate, cruel

Justice truth:

The innocent cannot expect

Eternal protection.

20/11/2012

Rough Wind

Clean wind, this morning

Straightens the banners,

Spreads the colours.

 

Rough wind, this morning:

A new kid in the

Wide playground sky,

Not sure of his own power,

His own place,

Testing the order, the establishments.

Clouds lean away,

Sensing difference, challenge,

Lose shape, cohesion;

Flee

 

Placid-for-the-moment,

Orange-balloon sun,

Teacher on duty, watches

From horizon distance –

Much closer than her charges –

Recognises untamed energy,

Welcomes the new spirit;

Observing all with a

Knowing smile.

 

21/11/2012

The Timefall Changes

Feeling the timefall changes

Blowing in the fresh old winds;

The insistent gravity pull and

Push of generation.

What do I want most:

Woodpecker or web?

I have fierce deep roots,

Of which – push me –

I can be aggressively proud;

And experiences have forged badges

Pinned to the fabric of my life.

But my soul has never

Blindly carried a flag.

16/11/2012

Territory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In my small morning-walk

Part of the world

Water  puddled in

The harsh tracks of

Invaders long gone

Reaches for the winter sun

With lips of ice.

 

 

 

Overnight the frost has

Made stiff cells of the earth,

Powdered the speartips

Of grass and salted

The shoulders of broad leaves

Into a single, silently screaming scrum.

 

In another, far-removed

Ignorant-of-nature place

Politicians squabble, chatter and

Greed over territory like 

Opera villain magpies.

 

Can they be so unaware of the impact?

Why don’t they listen

To the falling?

Heed the fallen?

Is it too late?

Can we still rebuild the Dove Gate?

Use the Get out of Hell Card?

 

18/11/2012