February’s Room

King of spiders,

Serene, unafraid now, of death,

Warms his new-fire-bloated body

In the crawl space,

The wall space

Above the dusty pelmet.

Routed winter seems in retreat;

tending wounds in Valentine’s mists

We almost fancy we hear the

Advancing belles of spring.

The name of the old, underground god

Is sprayed on establishment’s walls again –

“Coming to the Rescue!”

Polite, beg-steal-borrow society

Apathetically shivers:

Is the balance swinging too quickly

Towards the goose-step years?

Solstice.

These are the times when seas

Are flicker-black and silver white;

The icy gears of time and colour

Whir, click and gyre

Inside my head and out –

I hear them, feel them slip, miss,

Come alive on this, the least-light day

Of calendar’s small, moon-ruled patterns.

Horizon birthed skyline is a slow bonfire

Between present-grey and lack of clarity.

Did nature bring the reflective

Stillnesses of winter?

Or did we invent them?

 

My Cold-Silver Princess

This question-prompt night, I feel the

Travel-far wind of her passing –

My cold-silver princess moon –

As it gently settles its precious

White-ice powder

On my aching soul and

Continue reading

Water Gypsy

grebe

Pirate-eyed,

Dragon-ruffed,

Lion-maned,

Pharaoh-masked:

I am water Gypsy –

Diver of the

Deep Truth Lakes.

You are welcome to walk

The margins of the seasons,

The borders between our souls.

But, if you think

To cross the divide

There will be fierce questions.

 

Photo source: www.bbc.co.uk

28/3/2013

The White

DSC00981

The white that fell
Like mushroom spores
Giddily, god-driven; endlessly
Down the skies,
Across the winds.
The white that fell;
That carpeted lawns
That changed the contours,
That blanked the colours,
That washed the sight,
That revised plans,
That altered the focus.
The white that fell
That froze the breaths
Of unfolded sheep;
Brought strangers to the window,
Magnified distance
And bent familiar routes.
The white that fell?
It’s falling still.