With those big brown eyes
and strawberry fired hair
sweet innocence as on
a summer's day fair

You visit grandma and grandpa
with lee luke and charlotte
brothers and sister you play
have such a wonderful day

You all go play hide and go seek
all turns dark all so bleak
in a blink of an eye
you are taken away
we cannot sleep
we only weep

In death I’ve found love,
Longing,
Desire,
But much more thought of you;
To make it seem right,
With a heart full of anger,
Yet have not found what to do.

Not in my walking. Not in my waking,
It’s fog,
And thought,
And far too many days between;
That I have will, but no feet,
Urge, but no way,
Nor hither that I have seen.

The dialogue of silence
resembles theatre of the absurd.
He’s waiting for Godot -
She dare not utter a word.

He speaks with disdain,
his body language concurs,
she turns away trembing -
“communication”
is just another word.

The wanton isolation
of not being heard.
They loved once
before they recognised the abyss,
before they touched the void.

Anxiety and anguish
Co-joined protagonists
In a play called Folie a deux
Zeitgeist the grim backdrop
To the greyness they’ve found.

On this low bluff I often seek
more with my soul than faded eyes
solitude beside a middling creek
beneath the varied seasons' skies
occasionally at year's demise

I share this time with stalwart fellows
most having seen many a more year
of spring greens and autumn yellows
than this random visitor to here
who sits still as any deer

when is a poem not a poem?
and does the heart ever let go?

the diamond in the rough
was a handful of indigenous rock
until
its essence was gleaned and
facets were carved with care

there are rubies in the dust and pearls
in the oyster beds, we dive into dirt and
smell of water
we tremble with the light
and light a candle in the hour
that is the darkest

let us remember that only hollow men
dare to sing
when there is nothing left
and this is the way the world ends.

rain storms reflected
lightening and thunder too
in crystalline pools

Are you not weary of ardent ways
Tell me no more of enchanted days

James Joyce

Nice to meet you
after all these years
but the person that got trapped in your mind
is one of the many
I have left behind
I presume it is the same with you

Sure, Jimi Hendrix was a favourite of mine
so too, were Traffic, Pink Floyd and Deep Purple
and oh yes!!!
how can I forget?
I carried Emerson and Keats
in my hip pocket

Each morning it rises
Out of the mists of dawn
And begins to sing
Its immortal song

Leonard

you don't get to remember your last thought
after you're dead
so it's a far far better world to leave if the thought
you think is dipped in dark dark ink

soon even your most excellent poem will leave your breath
and maggots
will invade your space, you will burn throughout eternity
with the apple in your throat and Paradise will not even
be a memory fading from white-lilies of existence.

skeins of silken thread
euclidean arabesques
a perfect crochet

Written: 20/11/2007