The Artist

If no man fall asunder

then let no man stand apart

the one who only had a fleeting glimpse

enjoys the subtle art

 

The paint and brush and easel stand

before the man who’s thinking

the finished piece, like artist’s hand

shakes before its sinking

 

Art – thy name is woman –

‘fifty shades of grey’

the passion of a suitor lost

should not be lost this way

 

Like a rope entangled

a life lived is like an hour

like the wild garden blooming

the plant – budding – brings a flower

 

Is it black and white – definitive

or is it made of colour

does exploration start at home

or stranger’s cottage, over yonder

 

Within the cottage stands a piece –

art no man had savoured

not ‘til artist, on his deathbed

was thy work in favour

 

When people come

they will not leave

like leaves on the ground

in Autumn

 

Oh, if only he

was here to see

the boat anchored

in his harbour

 

‘If only’ –

two words strong enough

to bring a storm

of force

 

Need not be lost

in frigid frost

stand up –

and hold the course.

More than myself

Can I create more than myself
And if I can, must I?
Is livelihood (like solitude)
About to pass me by?

At times we associate
With a view  – a sight to see
A sense of fatal curfew –
Of our own mortality

Can I build a house to share –
Must I share it once it’s built?
As accidental as a romance
That is driving by me still

Still as can be, in situ –
What situation is
Movement denies my sense of self –
Of soft and supple bliss

Where did she go –
Where is she now?
Is one’s life a curse
To spend it without paying forward –
Could anything be worse

For time will never stay at rest –
It waits for no man – sure, not I
Hasten, hustle, hurry –
Catch up!
Before I die.

But a second

Absence of a tryst to love

Does not abandon thee

From amorous encounters

In a world of make-believe

 

Absence of a single thought

Wants not a lesser being

Yet, in time one cannot become

What one cannot see

 

For sight to some means knowledge

Powered by the mind

If one be blind, does it decry

To be of lesser kind?

 

Yet absence of a sense to some

Means stronger touch and taste

A life lived but a second

Is the kind one ought not waste.

Milk and butter

The evening storm
The morning sun
The shining Summer – burning

Fire red
As ice is blue
The cold wind isn’t learning

That flowers bloom
From buds of Spring
Like Autumn leaves of colour

With startling sense –
Emulsified –
Like blending
full cream milk
With melting butter.

What dreams may come
What loss I live
Tumultuous the calling

As twilight descends
In darkened sky
My memories are falling.

Seasons derive an afterglow –
From demonstrative a movement
No need to shout – the whisper’s out
The cream of seasons isn’t Winter.

The darling buds
Know brighter times
When re-growth derives the season

As we run hard
To see tomorrow’s yard –
The day for true believing.

Forever in between

It matters not how hard or harrow
The hindrance that I hold
But how soft and purely supple
The helping hand I doth extol

The caressing care known as compassion
Opens the door to grace
Forever in between
Comparing looks upon the face

It matters not how rough the gaze
How tough the buccaneer
Believe him when he tells you;
Want for her when you doth hear

The sound of songbirds singing
a school chirping from the sky
Witness strength in one’s illusion –
The white breeze (or red?) will knoweth why

Flapping e’er so slightly
When care is on the rise
Deluding e’er so lightly
As the sun says his goodbye.

The hallowed vest

To reach toward the pyramid
Atop the burning light
E’er thrust and run and tally –
The trepid traveller’s flight

To be void of divinity –
Subtracted from the sun
Brightness dwindles as time allows
And peddles thoughts still young

Sounding like an orchestra –
The music sung by one
Though whispering – a baritone
Transcends the gathered throng

Who listen to the music
As if they hear Him still
Waiting the day the christened ground
Shares its ingress with some

Relieve one of their wherewithal
Comparison attests
The one atop the pyramid
Wears the hallowed vest.

I think of thought…

What do I think of thought

Or can I only feel

A touch as tender as the breeze

Or hard as bovine –

‘fore the veal

What do I think of thought

What does she think of me

As hard to the touch as a scab

Or soft and supple

Alike thee

Bereft of kindness –

Or genteel

Like an edelweiss to me

She sees the sun

And makes it real

Glistening – delights the sea

Gravitate to Earth without a force

Magic sensed and written on

Below – the park – a round-a-bout

A tree, with branches

Bark and frond

That listen to the overt mood

The cumbersome-ness of the room

They hear disorderly array

And come to right things very soon

What do I think of thought

What does she think of me

A touch so tender as my mood

So precious as the sea

Travails with a conscience

It came from far away

And nestled nearer home

All the while beside me

From birth to when I’d grown

 

My travails with a conscience lay

Still active – I had known

It came from far away –

Perched by my very own

 

And every time I saw her

She looked peaceful –

Like the sand

Reaching out from yonder

Saying; Come, now –

Hold my hand

 

Whenever I would touch her

She’d shiver – as if scared

I’d think, again, and wonder

Whether storm-clouds over there

 

Would rain on the parade

That had gathered, with the band

Yet my travails, with a conscience

Would reach out, and hold my hand

From inside now

Comparing who

And what I’ve been

To the pair we will

Become – as part

 

Of a new belief

With new beginnings

That tells me

Sunshine’s here to stay –

The darkest cloud

(a world away)

 

The scent I smell –

The freshest bloom

Seasons sprout –

And lover s’ groomed

 

Harvest from

The greenest field

Success is yearned

And feelings yield

 

A new horizon

Nearer home

The reason why

I build, I grow

 

Into a violet –

Scented sweet

Without my dear

Less than complete

 

Oh, my God –

Pray, tell me how –

You sense the world

From inside now

Loss

Loss

Oh, God,

What does it mean?

Am I alone

Yet near, beside

The one I thought

I’d have forever –

Experiences

Shared together

Now you’ve left

For better scenes

Still nothing, no-one

Comes between

The rose and orchard

We grew when

The garden bloomed –

The scent would spend

It’s time in what

Became a daze

Was it true love –

Or just a phase

Of a life spent

Lived to the full

Which force would win –

To push, or pull?

What dreams may come

And share my grief?

The one thing left

Was true belief

That one day

We will share a sky

Where we look in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Ever more

Your life is mine –

My life is yours

I could keep going

Here some more

Or calmer weather

Before the storm

Knowing that

I know not what

Is meant for me –

Or any other

That disowns

A true romance –

Who cannot walk the walk

Or dance the dance

That leads to

Disorganised array –

Found elsewhere –

A world away

Where the one true thing

Is belief

That one day

We will share a place

Looking in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Many times

Memories –

They’re always stored

Your life in mine –

My life in yours.