love

Hearing Loss

Echoing back into
The cave of shadows,
He was the major
Chord, now he is the
Minor key that I
Tune into now and
Then, like opening
An empty biscuit
Tin just to pick at
Crumbs.
Put the lid back on.

Full Moon

You are a world in a

Man, you are my heart in

My hand and my stomach

In a cup that can never

Be drained, you warm up

My soul with your pulse,

Your nostrils and your breaths,

Every hair that moves

On your face is lucky to be

Born near a warmth so

Keen it could run rings around

Me after circling the moon.

SAD, never mind, anticipate Spring.

 

This is the time of year when

Music needs to dig deep

To find us, rap a rope

Around our waists and wind

Us up to the light.

 

This is the time of year

When summer sounds are

Hollow and clatter round

Like flies scanning for jam

Round  an empty jar.

 

This is the time of year

When Love’s warmth is

Set in relief against the

Grey, when any ray is welcomed

 Like a hero from the war.

 

This is the time of year

When something as tiny as a

Crocus bud is all the hope

We need to prove again that

Life springs from mud.

Love’s phases in uneven metre

1.

He throws his hands

Up like as if

Painting a self portrait

For her to judge.

She blows him bubbles

From lips that have hugged

Many forks full of

Cheesy spaghetti

Flattered with pepper.

 

The talk is of

Chatter the chat

Is of less but

The eyes watch

It all wise in

Quiet waiting

For later to

Be laid bare.

 

The legs relax with

The wine the young knees

Find a nice place

To play while the feet

Discover the other

Side and pretend each

Touch is accidental.

 

Above the table

The first valve

Of chilli splits,

Veins feel heat

Burst bubbles

Paint curdled –

Two gives up and

Fizzes as one-

 

They leave,

She forgets

To pay the

Umbrella

But he pulls

Out his fingers

And they depart

Bound in hand.

 

 

2.

Apart, the light

Was glorious.

Beach-ball-bats glistened.

Together, it was

Different.

The bench was their

Stage and all the rest

Scenery.

 

3

 She was there in the night

She was with him in the day

Through thought’s dry vapour

She shone bright dew while

Wet in the rain she waited

At the traffic lights

Filling time with him.

 

4

He was the deep and

Gentle rise and fall,

What’s that he said? That

Thudding like the ebb in

 Warm deep water,

Refuge for the frenzied waves.

 

She was a tree-like place

Of rest and love, the

Deep shade to shelter in

 and heal  blisters with

 her leaf-balm touch.

But it twisted into something

Rough and cut in squares,

Something he had seen in

Other people’s wives and

She had felt as her roots rotted

In the dark, something neither he

Or she could see but both

Knew was there, the fruit had soured

In the heat .

 

 

Part 5

Later, recovering,

She thanked him for holding her and

Kissing her hair’s grease,

Finding the eyes she’d dropped ,

Washing them Clean

With Salt love,

The best kind:

Rock

  

 

Part 6

 She found herself

Asking him

How his day

Went.

 

He liked how she

Bathed his stories

 In warm water

Before bedtime.

 

She liked his way

Of being the

Full stop to end

A long day.

 

Together their

Effort made a kind

Of prose, as yet

Without a plot.

Saint Valentine

Good, glorious, unashamedly

Victorious in joy day in

Joy night in sight of the

Way, inspired by the light

Riding cupped in the

Knowledge of Love from

The outside in and the inside

Out, the rivulets running round

The heart and trickling down to

Soul to fill it up pleasantly, coolly

Calmly with a lake that will last

A thousand years and watch

Stalactites congregate in the

Caverns above, jewelling the ceiling

In unimagined decadence, imagined

Into real, as light and clear as the

Sound of each new drop topping

Up the lake that feeds the well of

The world that is me and the time

That is mine to drink at my leisure,

No need for thirst. Thanks be to thee,

Wide Universe.

 

 

Tending Towards Generosity

Why do we sow and water a patch

We do not own? Is it because we

Know that we and Peace are jeopardised

If our sunflower seeds are left to grow smug

Beside barren pods who cannot

See the sun, blinded by jealousy and

Deranged by the thirst that comes

From sharing Earth with thicker

Roots than theirs can ever be?

 

In tending to what is not ours, Nature does

Not credit us with generosity, She understands

How truly selfish are her fans,

To share the water, Earth and Sun

Is not Love but preservation of a self

That needs the nourishment that

Giving gives the giver to feed the

Craving for that gratitude and Love

That fills us when we have enough to eat but

Goes lactic as we grow hungry, keen to steal

And fence what we once gave and scattered.

 

Me to you

We can’t demand

Love any more than

We can change the

Colour of our eyes

But we can give

It and so free

Ourselves from the

Burden of Self.

Grounding myself with a ‘To do’ list

TO do today

To do today

To bring me

Down, tie me

Tight, back to

My rod, my

Inner sense,

My knowledge of

Myself, my

presence in the

World.

Untied I was,

Today, a floating

Balloon, no

Direction, just

Wind gusts of

Temptation

That wouldn’t

Have blown

Me off were

I tied up, safe.

But loose was

I, without

That knot of

Thought that

Used to be

Mine – That I

Gave to him

To untie or

Not. I think

He untied it,

I couldn’t see,

I’m a balloon,

But anyway,

I blame him.

Leverage

Let me stand tall

And bright,

Strengthened by

The residue of

Love, sweetly

Lasting on.

A Morning, Late November

 

 Rod of silver

Wand struck

Soft on my head

Of thoughts laced

With sweet, dripping

Nectar beads

Sweet, dripping

Nectar drop.

The Sun shines

Nourishment on

Me on the bedclothes

And my day dawns

Thick, cool, clear

And tinged with

Autumn, crusts

Of the year, left to crumble, crunch

And pile their juices into compost

Fodder for the Spring.

I rise to meet

These orange-browns,

Lights dangling,

Lights drifting, drunken

Twirling through

The gusts,

Traffic wardens flick them off.

(26th November 2009)