On Your Side

What should we call it:

This happy, unpredictable juxtaposition of

Time, emotion and place?

Where here is elsewhere,

Distance is merely a word

Dismissed with a hot-winged wish

And a journey on malachite-magic carpet.

Where smiles make sweetest tides of music,

Begin faithful friendships.

Image result for ecstasy emotion

“Is it so very far away?”

You might think to ask,

Eyes wide; desperate to believe,

Yet unwilling to trust.

The answer is both

Yes and no; in truth

As far from your chosen reality

As lightning is from thunder.

If you wish to make the leap,

Look for me, I’ll wait a while

When sugar’d stars bleed,

On your side of the

Mist-legged bridge.

But don’t wait too long;

Impatience nudges my elbow already.

 

For Home … yet.

All around me

Energy is being thrown at tall, bland walls;

Pounding, pumping legs,

Spinning numbers, belts,

Reds, silvers, greys.

And me?

I lie here, barely the right side

Of being able to breathe;

Hearing, faintly, the call of

The wide, wild blue.

Now, I am faithful as all hell –

Trust me, friend,

It has been tested –

Just not ready to

Set out

For home yet.

The Big Issue

Image result for the big issue

Bodiless message

Reached me around sun-up:

No place, today,

To rest, to think.

Dragged my bones to

The Markets of Faith,

En route to the

Hall of Candles;

Met a man

Who offered

All that he could,

The sum-total, in fact,

Of all that he was –

He wanted my trust,

But needed my money.

“Why aren’t you working?”

I dared not ask,

Too

English-polite to offend.

I have been carrying a cross

For a life time now,

One that I should lay

Next to somebody’s name.

I should ask them

That very question:

Why isn’t this man working?

What will you do to help him?

What are you doing for this local,

Here-every day, everyman?

Why would you rather commit my money,

My future, that of my family,

To those we do not know.

There are Some Illusions …

Winter dark drops its
Sharp-sudden chill
Like a heavy, studded cape
Across field, path and copse.
Moonrise wind grips
Our bones with
White-wolf fangs.

Northern rain will mate
With less-than-zero air
This December night:
Snow’s gentle manacles
Are coming to restrain us all.

But I have seen
Faith, hope and trust
In the eyes
Of Christmas youngsters –
From behind the
Beard and fairy mask –
For the first time.

There are some illusions,
Perhaps,
That we should not
Rush to destroy.

7/12/2012

For Cornelia

Roads can be blue,

Trees can be purple;

Your light need not be my light,

Even though our watches match.

 

On my way to

Adventure-to-be-written

I rest my travel-warm feet

On a ragged-corner case

Away from the

Confusing offers of help.

 

A friend-in-the-making

Knows that I am

At the wrong airport …

And I don’t feel alone.

 

8/1/2012

When I Ask

When I ask,

And, at some stage

I am sure that I will,

Please don’t tell me

How I feel.

 

The shades of black

That holly leaves go

In full-night

Belladonna moonlight.

 

However I ask,

If I threaten, plead,

Cajole, sulk, make promises,

Please don’t tell me

You understand.

 

The kind of moon –

White-queen faced

And flat –

You get when skies

Are clear and honest-cold.

 

2/9/2012

Those That Trust …

Those that trust the

Machines that look for

Patterns and make

Predictions

Forecast snow later today.

 

Those who use the

Statistics stored in the

Records to point the

Finger of blame

Say it’s all my fault:

That I travelled too far

On holidays;

Kept my family too warm,

Bought food out of season –

Because it was available:

All wrong!

 

Those who trawl the

Programs, pretending to

make sense of data are

Forecasting blizzards

This evening.

 

What do they want

Us to do?

Panic?

There’s nothing wrong –

And many things right –

About snow

 

As far as I’m concerned

We all have

Something we can learn:

If we dare …

If we care …

Beware!

 

12/3/2012