The quiet thunders
Of unassuming peace:
Hurricane crosses in the sky
In memory,
In celebration,
In the freedoms
They created.
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Tag Archives: memory
Walking Steadily Away …
That coming-in tide –
Be it blood, memory or saltwater –
Cannot always be friendly:
It knows nothing, after all,
Of shape, history or consequence.
We all know what we believe
To be true by the things
We decide not to let in… Continue reading
Obsidian Razor
One eye spitefully, casually blinded
By the latest ascendant alpha wolf,
The one that seeks my throne,
My subjects, my honour.
Town’s End?
Riverboat gambler coated,
Thin collar fashionably raised,
The familiar windmill
Spins on blue suede pegs.
I wonder, now, why I never saw
The harsh self-doubt, the
Harshest of self mockery,
The dumb recognition of happenstance
In those flamenco matador poses.
Copper lady, right hand filled
With righteous liberty
As the terrible truth, vulnerability and blame
Crash down again; over
Iconic, decibel-lit harbourscape.
The way it actually is and the other way,
Held in memory, of how it was before.
So much to be proud of.
The air stands still,
The big voice calls on and on.
You? You think too much, preoccupied:
“Who will I be seeing this evening?”
I’m more intrigued by
Who I’m going to be.
28/6/2013
Journeys of Stones
Beginning with the grain;
The barley,
The board and
The beach;
Thinking it
Ought to
Hurt much more,
Mean much more
Than this.
Where is the music?
The returning tide?
Prints prove
You were here before,
But you have no recall.
The songs and cries of pebbles
Ring in your skull
Though you would swear
You’ve never heard them before.
The journeys of stones
Are buried deep
In your bones.
18/3/2013
Related articles
- The Wind That Shakes The Barley sung by Lisa Gerrard (post by Nasty Nigel) (thestrumpetpost.wordpress.com)
- Jim Ede’s spherical pebbles (fondofengland.wordpress.com)
- Demons and “gods” – Nepri (alreadyanswered.org)
- Crossing the River of Life One Stone at a Time (ellynbaker.wordpress.com)
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
About Doors
Through December-strange windows,
Silver framed by frost’s craftwork,
A pair of yellow roses bloom still:
Chariot-ghosts of summer-gone moons,
Like steady, pale cream flames in falling snow.
And, I have been thinking much
About doors these past weeks:
I won’t be using this one much longer,
And it won’t remember me.
Why would it?
11/12/2011
