Times …

There are times,

Fleeting times,

When he can catch his breath,

When his heart isn’t batter-hammering

Inside his chest,

Inside his brain,

That he can believe the lies:

That he is gaining on the familiar figure

Disappearing through the doors,

Ahead, frustratingly just beyond recognition;

That he can decide whenever he wants

To stop running;

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Time …

Thunder quietly stirs in

The dark music distances

At the end of the silver day tracks:

The one armed smith and

The eight-legged stormbringer.

A different crew walks the morning desert

Between directions, must be

Getting closer to the time

To visit the city I fear,

To use the words we never said.

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.”

Two Hundred Plus … Don’t Let me Be Cold

How many words can there be to say?
How many kind thoughts come back this way?
Who would have thought we could stay the course
Like a mile after day rock-rock-rockin’ horse.
Like favourite band on full flow free power flight
What levels of muse delight!
Two hundred posts
Reflections of friends ‘n’ ghosts.
Where do we go?
Who’s to say, guess or know?
It’s time to open the mind,
Love to the blind
Open the heart,
Art for art
Glad to be here,
Excitement, passion and fear
Just don’t let me be cold
Even if the pavements be not gold