old adage
jesus
no that’s not the word
but jesus when i reach for a word
it is the draft behind a curtain
uncertain that’s the word
that describes the search
for until it is found everything stops
one foot raised one step untaken
catatonic
yes that will do for now
until i remember the word
for it
escapes me
entreat
you have entered my body
from the tips of my toes
to the last hair on my head
you have consumed me
we are burning brighter
than the supernova that made us
the waters above the earth
are flowing in my eyes
unstoppable magma fingers
consume the world
the vibrations of our hearts
the songs of the spheres
have consumed us
sparking scions of tomorrow
each with a seed of our truth
then
like a candle flickering in time’s night
although thought unquenchable
it will be quenched
alas returns to its haunt
a lone clock ticks
at the incongruity
of half a pendulum’s
stark frankness
photographs in a gallery
steppingstone lightly
every image a quay
upon the river of an ideal
how the lights flicker on
at the back of one’s mind
stars in the wonderment
that match the reflections
in the eye of this photographer
with a hint that all is well
we feel the breeze
of her shutters
oh bituary
have they started
writing my obituary
there’s one more thing
that i didn’t say
but i wish that i had
my list of five submitted poems reads like a poem itself …
it might work
a couple of facts
rhetorical
amen
vigil’s end
your christmas gift again
there there
dear state pensioner
here’s £10
merry christmas
what?
a pension the same as those paid in europe
oh no ~ no chance
pat pat (on head)
take your £10
an be grateful
very grateful
bah humbug
glacial
calving
from the glacier of care
speeding away from the
sloe-blue flow my soul
nine tenths below the level
seen to be required to be normal
what weight of truth is this
that weighs down upright
for the heart melts slowly
in the sea of gone
we are gone
we have done it
melted away
together
it’s snow good
the thing with snow
is you never know
if it’s going to slow
down
it comes down
and down and down
and down
dusk and
dusk and
the black lightening
of tree branches
slowly slowly
eaten by the darkness
until stars twinkle
and we are moved
for if we move
the branches are still there
sometimes the moon
racing through the clouds
but that is another story
for another night
my love
erratically
bad dream erratically
they were chasing Zelensky in his little car
he had been stabbed in the back
and the car was filling up with water
he also had a small blood-stained dagger
not much air left
when i woke up
but i don’t think we have
it might work
the works ate them
and they loved the heat
in their bellies
they talked of men
for they were the men
who worked the works
in the melt
they moulded each other
in the smoke they believed
they went home
to houses above the works
and looked down
from the slag tops
their thoughts tumbled down
bottomless
it was
they thought
how heavy tomorrow is
yesterday underfoot
the horizon a brew steeping
sips is all we have
4am
ungodly hour
empty of thought
full of dread
shelved
corner turned down
in the book of life
question
how many more pages
before the end is revealed
it was light when i started reading
as the sun went down
before soon said
another dawn
again the question
remained unanswered
