High words, borders
And thunder’s claws
Could not keep me
From sleep last night.
And, this morning, I have skipped
Through enthusiasm’s classes
To reach this river-bank coffee pause.
High words, borders
And thunder’s claws
Could not keep me
From sleep last night.
And, this morning, I have skipped
Through enthusiasm’s classes
To reach this river-bank coffee pause.
This night’s lady –
Too casually-chosen perhaps –
So-soon satiated, flutters
Easily between fantasy and sleep. And
I, alone, am conscious, again, of the
Anaconda in the witch-hour bedroom.
The one that seeks the carbon dioxide I exhale,
Brushes my exposed skin in invisible passing;
Realising that, at long-last, I will be all-out
Of resistance when the judgement-jaws gape and
Fangs fashioned like no-absolution lightning
Lay bare my soul and fasten on my very core, pointing
The way; the only way – to Perdition …
To Perdition – and beyond!
While they stretch and preen,
Sweat and strut-strut-stumble
My finger is taking memories –
Click by click –
I am mentally repackaging
Versions of history,
Stacking facts
Picking opinions
Filing options for posterity.
Or is this just my ego? Continue reading
I’ve slept since then –
More than once if truth be told – and
The picture’s changed,
The world moved on
In generation strides.
So much so that
This is a different story.
But yet …
But yet I cannot get over
What happened to the doctor – and
What happened to me
In all of the giddy-roundabout,
Switchback, switchblade years
He caringly tended my family.
I know those adventure and apple days,
Cock-crow dawns and time-dam days
Are gone, gone, gone like small-candle smoke
In big-night, blue winds, but still,
Sometimes, it truly seems as if
He is still here,
Then is still now.
18/5/2013
Adventures in the life of an English allotment
Original Nature + Culture Photojournalism
Garden Blog of the Year 2016
Welcome to my world: digging, harvesting and other stuff
for your family
The evolution of an old farmhouse, an American woman, an Englishman and their dogs.
If you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be headed right now?
surfing my tsunami
blowing through the cobwebs of my mind
Just another WordPress.com weblog
Writing the Wrong, Right, and Ridiculous
Life after the Care Farm
The most Dangerous plant to sleep under is the water lilly
Local History for Great Wyrley and Surrounding Areas
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
introspection & reflection, poetry & prose
Posts about old Hollywood, current concerns
Gunn4