Notes From a Church

One of mine –

Of ours perhaps –

Left last week;

But, on the old hill,

With sweeping views

Down to the port

Where big ships wait

To take us further,

Another – if its possible,

Drew closer.

While I’m reminded of a third

(Something special in that number,

That magic-wise company)

In a rich eastern temple

Where burn candles real

And a ghost sends me

Notes from a church.

Meanwhile our October

Becomes my November

And I watch my breaths

Quietly disappear.

So We Came …

Image result for walsall fans JPT final

So, after the million-and-more

Worthless words, we came;

The faithful and the free

To be weighed on

The Scales of Reputations,

Under the Pointless Arch

And the anonymous gaze of

Distant strangers. Came

To the northernmost fringes

Of the City of False Wisdoms,

For the trials, and

After the assembling, the

Crowded, stalling, winding journey

The excesses:

Of colour and clamour,

Of favours and flavours,

Poise and pose,

The raising of voices,

Candles and sacrifices

Of fish and fruit;

The exchange of coins

For tokens,

Standing,

Sitting …

To be finally judged:

Noble, inspirational

But wanting.

 

Centre Piece

DSC_0001Filigree testament to craftsman skills

These tiny perfect angels,

Suspended on gossamer, begin

To turn  careful candle-driven carousel:

Seeming to hover on fine

Heaven- in-a-moon moth wings,

Bearing gifts:

Morality, Humility,

Law and Education.

Spinning points of a

Holy Season Compass

They delicately describe

The circles of life.

One holds out a candle:

Light into the Dark World,

Another a book:

Different enlightenment:

A third, almost-partner,

A tree:  beneficent nature

The last … ?

Turning its back to my eyes

I am momentarily unable to see

What it will offer mankind –

… yet I notice on it’s perfect back

Unmistakable reflections

Of jealous Satan’s beckoning flames.

The Smiles

candle1

The smiles were

Always pretty

And she said

“You are the son of a witch,

Brother to a vampire:

It’s no wonder you are crazy!”

 

The candles were

Soon gone

And she said

“I must have smoke,

I must use gold:

It’s no wonder you are crazy!”

 

Remaining days were

Travel-filled;

We danced

In a blaze of glory,

Kept the faith.

There’s a marvellous magic

to being crazy!

 

11/9/03

Rough and bone deep damp:
Cold enough to kill the Devil,
dark enough to fright he angels.
the coward dial of young-year clock
Cannot console and
Walnut framed mirror
Turns an unfriend face,
Showing me bones, buzzards
And a going-down sun.

The road from ignorance
to complacence
Is lit with poor-tallow candles
And wet-wood fires.

10/1/2013

At The Borders

Paused at the borders
Of a place
Named Evening:
Where day-long fog
Leaks from the spaces ‘tween
Bare-bone beeches,
Where the past and anthems
Are neither denied
Nor forgotten.

With a little luck,
Some patience and sweet time
We’ll reach Nightfall …
But let’s savour the wine,
 Music and candles first eh?

13/12/2012