The Wrong Kind

Wharf-pool water –

Century’s stagnant mirror –

Surface made of shattered

Butcher’s knife blades and

Shards of guillotine in a

Brick-sided drawer:

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Shall We?

Totally lacking confusion,

Simply and without fear,

A little rocky maybe,

But with good heart

With cheer;

Something almost recognised,

Slow diamond sunrise

On the edge of the new

In the territories of the heroes.

High-lord bright skies

Valuable echo’s reprise.

“Well, shall we do it …

Just one more time?”

“Of course, we must;

But as usual,

Not without change;

Not without a flourish.”

Number Eleven

Sat in a box today –

For the first time ever –

Something I had truly believed

Beyond me …

Or below me;

I am not sure which.

Funny how

Number eleven

And a name from the past

Can bring

You down …

And up short!

 

Sat in a box today:

Alone, but

Surrounded by friends.

We won –

We do these days –

An exciting habit:

But maybe

I lost myself

And found a bigger picture;

That leaves me so confused.

Now that I have stumbled upon

A truth, is it right

To go on

Playing the fool?

 

1/4/2013