Tag Archives: friendship

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Without

This is a night to call on

The neglected-too-long,

Two faced god;

Distant doorways time,

Wandering with the wide-sky

As a hat, deep dark and

Glamourous with frost-pricked stars

That will refuse to disclose the

Futures only they can know.

Walking on the tireless long legs of Memory,

Carrying my weightless ghosts around

The rainbow’d edges of the friendship nation:

Territory with secrets,

Without hiding places,

Without borders.

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A Marvellous Impression: NaPoWriMo (Day 18)

Imagine:

Me –

Away from the crowd –

In comfortable, bar-stool

Bubble.

Secret eyes

Are on the green table.

The barmaid,

Doing a marvellous impression:

Of somebody who is not bored,

Is not tired, hasn’t

Seen it all before.

Music runs from history,

Positives and negatives

Wrestle over the

Wrong-shaped ball.

I may have  had it all,

Along the way …

Now I don’t …

And none of it matters.

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Fur Kurt

 

Balanced between Beethoven and Thunder,

We are all Destiny’s children,

Walking – whether we know it or not –

With our Fates and our phantoms.

This day our honest money is unacceptable,

We cannot climb the tower.

We cool our jets instead;

No wind, no forward speed:

The patient river of friendship

Smoothes our broken edges.

The new-old voices of rock

Loud again in

The still air.

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Come and Gone

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How silver-precious

Those friendship beats,

Come and gone like

The six-prompt watchman

Between the Black Church

And the White Tower

In this or that foreign city.

Smiles exchanged, words danced

On benches by big, capital-brown rivers;

Cruel fingers on the new-named clock tower

In whose history-shadows we lingered,

Measuring the so-long seconds

Between now and the

Wide-yawn platform stations

And handcuff clocks and tickets.

Until next time …

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The Original Search Engine?

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Something magical about the air in Upper Austria. Altitude? For sure, but also freshness and sparkling light. Amazing skies throughout the livelong days. Sunrise with pinks, lilacs, golds and pale blues hovering over the mountains and forested hills.

Making walking the wanderweg (paths) a treat. Not anywhere near cold, but crisp, clean and invigorating. Not the steep challenge of more serious Austrian Tyrol/Wildekaiser landscapes but gentle, wide walkways, sometimes beside rarely used roads, sometimes alongside quiet, therapeutic streams, the borders of newly turned farmland or through friendly forests. Oh and no snow yet, just end of season glorious warmth, meaning a T-shirt was enough once I had warmed up.

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Tickets, Clocks and …

Shades of

Four-in-the-morning

Friendship roads;

Sagas and riverbank coffees,

The long warm shadows of wings;

With tickets, clocks, cherrywood smoke,

A softly-strummed guitar

And new plum wine.

Nothing wrong with visiting the past,

Living in the moment:

But Tomorrow

Will be calling –

Sooner than you think –

So be sure you have

The proper words.

9/8/2013

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You Should Know …

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Two days ago –

Fierce and fast –

Blue electricity, drama and hazard

Climbed blink-blink fast

Down greased ladders between

Sky’s undeniable singularity and

Our different-degree backgrounds.

We rolled the friendship dice, folded paper,

Measured the paces of bishop and tower,

Sheltered under the proud, peaceful wings

Of history’s graceful war birds;

We laughed happily together at

The ice and fire we walked through …

And we did it with spirits high!

At the end of some games,

You should know,

It’s possible for everyone to win.

5/8/2013

Photo: wallzoa.com

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Rain

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Heavy rain:

Drip for the garden,

Drop for the lawn:

Drum roll for the garden,

Refreshing frogpaddle pond,

Falling future for

 Sun-parched ground.

I’m remembering a

Storm-hammered, crowded,

Noisy, light blue bus

Leaving a street market

In Yesterday’s-Gone,

No-Promise country;

A lover’s farewell:

“The skies cry,”

Biting back youngblood tears,

Biting passion-bruised lips,

“When good friends part.”

Drip for the past,

Drop for the present,

Drum-roll for the memory,

Reviving yesterday’s dancers,

Refreshing history’s dreams.

31/7/2013

Photo: www.newtopwallpaapers.com

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Ironbridge.

Work-a-day sun high burnin’

Growin’ dull, respectful red and cider-cold;

Dawn’s melody slowly turnin’

Becoming familiar, restful, old.

Harvest hopes answered

Ripening to warm-honey gold:

English: The Ironbridge

Friends will always know each other –

If their stories be honestly told –

That  distance and language matter not

When time and hearts be weighed and sold.

30/7/2013

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