faces

the expressionless face

hides behind the door –

her elbows and knees

fall below to the floor

the expressionate face

the centre of now –

his body and soul

climbing high from the bough

the facade takes the place

of the expressionless face

and picks herself up

by the door from the floor

the centre of now

shares facade’s dream

declaring themselves

more alive than they seem

fuss and nonsense

Fuss and Nonsense went to the bay

leaving Grumpy and Difficult at home to stay

they went to sit down on the beach on the sand

until Fuss said to Nonsense; I’d much rather stand

Nonsense misheard what Fuss had to say

and sat on the sand on the beach at the bay

Fuss turned her head to a mighty foul sound

it was Grumpy approaching and shouting out loud

I’ve come to spread torpor and to wither and fade

I’ve come for a day at the beach in the shade

as Fuss became grumpy and difficult too

she took on a persona depressingly blue

she started to shrink and to shrivel and wilt –

Nonsense caught with a start at the spite Fuss had built

Nonsense could sense an odd feeling impart

so he swam over to Chance who cajoled a fresh start

they talked babble and jabber and twaddle all day

and swam to the new world where they’d canoodle and play

they were free to be flippant and simply have fun –

leaving Fuss and her ‘friends’ in the company of Numb

a poem

I have to print it out to break it down

I have to read again to understand

I separate the lines to see them flow

and build a construct and watch it grow

If everyanything* can be done

and we make a life from one block – two

then somebody’s something we grow to behold

welcoming all and sundry into the fold

In other words positive beats negative down

and words build spirit – life jumps from the page

read aloud or in silence – effect is the same

my friend is poetry – words given a name

*the word ‘everyanything’ comes from E E Cummings’ ‘adult nursery rhyme’ ‘If everything happens that can’t be done’

The grandfather’s chair

Whenever I sit in the grandfather’s chair

I dream what I wish for – that you would be there

in a disorganised muddle – I fuddle about

stumbling on affection – tripping on doubt

yet in your eyes I see a girl –

sweet and serene – as if you’re careening – 

I canoodle and cartwheel as I try to find meaning

we’re the what in the why and the how within showing

as I follow a butterfly on a leaf in a flutter

(like cream rising to top when we mix milk with butter)

you’re my sweet summer sunflower in polk-a-dot dresses

that fall off your shoulder under long flowing tresses

I reach out to touch you with the tip of my finger

on the nape of your neck is where my touch lingers

you are my red and my yellow – my green and my blue

the most wonderful rainbow remaining in view

the butterfly fluttering – always on cue

in the grandfather’s chair I dream only of you

the bird, the midgets (and me)

walking down to the train I am followed by no-one

hearing their breath in the middle of spring

turning my head I see a couple –

smiling with force – (feathers from a wing)

of a bird at the back – by the door he lay sleeping

as I push the receptor to enter the station

how do I know the bird cannot fly

or is he simply a part – of my own creation

I go to approach him – but the train has appeared

making grand noises just as I suspected

my thumb and my forefinger touch the tip of his wing

and he splutters his feathers – injured (affected)

he is black as spades with a spatter of whiteness

a magpie perhaps – yet how can I say

yet he silently flutters unsteadily by

barely visible – in the darkness of day

did you see that bird; I say to the couple behind me

as I push harder and faster ahead to the door

they seem very small (almost midgets I thought)

and their voices are squeaky and fall to the floor

I sit on the train on a bench made for sharing

but alone I reside – without concern (without caring)

where goes that bird – flitting about in the tunnel in fury

a life made for one – the source of an ending

yet as I muddle along on the train bound for nowhere

the midgets appear and grow taller than me

we saw that bird; they both say – with a shared smile

and we brought him along so that he could be seen

and treated and cared for and loved and looked after

would you like to join us – that is – if you have time

I’d love to; I say – as we leave the train station

my day passing ridicule on the way to sublime

To the sea

I stand above the solemn field
where strangers come to see
whatever shall be wishing for
in news endowed to thee
 
I walk beside the strangest beach
where friends of all kinds walk
and then I dance the dance, so dear
but cannot talk the talk
 
But ever shall we wonder
whatever could have been
if only I had held your hand
if only I had seen
 
Never too late – the high sea tells
for tides may come and go
but love for other never strays
beyond the deepest foe
 
Who stands beside when told to move
who cannot make it clear
that always and forever thus
will bring the deepest fear
 
Of a poem in the making
a romance come what may
and dance the dance that’s sent to chance
and speak the words to say
 
I am a meagre, lesser man
when faced with you alone
and strive to be another
to the mirror, on my own
 
But no words mean no feelings
for they lead to actions thus
and always will they dare to build
a stronger, wiser us
 
Do not deprive your liberty
do not abide by chance
your eyes look to my feet to lead
and then we’ll dance the dance
 
And as the years may pass
and the passing comes to be
I’ll take your hand and walk my sweet
together – to the sea.

Does a poem need a picture?

Does a poem need a picture
a tapestry of thread
layers of a fabric
in your stead
 
for what came before it –
the tapestry of mind
interpret as it’s seen
or as it’s read
 
like a quilt – a covering
a line of stitching – all in sinc
does the poet rely on more
than merely what the pen may bring
 
the web of inspiration –
haiku, elegy or rhyme
does the poem need a picture –
 
Art –
The embroidery of time

out of many

Because one said so

is it true

who else says it’s so –

do you

 

because one warrants

you agreed

who else will agree

with thee

 

because one stands tall

do you stand too

does anyone else stand tall

with you

 

out of many, one –

(e pluribus unum) –

thirteen letters

scattered some

 

emblazoned seal

in eagle’s beak

diversified –

it’s you one seeks

to be one day

 

though many tried –

 

it’s you the one

most deified.

the storm

What can I see

when I say I can do

and the bird in the tree

reminds me of you

 

and the little lake ponders

and paddles and pants

and the stars in the sky

over yonder way land

 

speak to the children

who chide in the snow

and the sleet turns to feet

on the ski-slopes on show

 

 

and the fire has embers

that keep lovers warm

cuddled and huddled

under blankets in storms

 

and when thunder breaks

and pets hide out of view

the thunder’s anger

reminds me of you

 

when I said; I don’t love you –

can’t take anymore

and you told me; get out

and you showed me the door

 

 

as I dangled my feet

in the water below

and thought of the time

on the ski-slopes

in the snow

 

it was you on my mind

my ‘one’ grown from ‘two’

the bird in the tree

under sky, clearest blue

Now

Forever is ever

will never be lost

in trees in the woods

in the snow’s early frost

 

always is tomorrow

and days yet to come

now is the moment

we delight in the sun

 

the sky may be mourning

the wind saddened, it seems –

the tsunami of senses

that comes with the breeze

 

becomes something more

in the wings of the trees

from a bud to a blossom

in the Spring-time we see

 

no need for eyes –

our senses will tell

when we smell freedom

no longer under the spell

 

of life told to us

like a story-book, read

sitting upright

with a pillow

under blankets in bed

 

and once upon a time –

…the end.

 

we will cry

 

now is the time

that never says its

Goodbye.