A grey morning
Dark, almost twilight,
On the very edges of things
The distance between now
And the beautiful days.
Absence and presence
Noticing not noticing
And there you are
As if from my dreams
Ghostlike and wandering
Wonder in your dark eyes
Floating silent and free
Over golden buttercups
And soft chervil tops
And I am with you
We're flying together
Far away
Over a distant meadow
No longer dreaming #poetry
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Dark clouds sailing
Dark Rooks gathering
On muck-spread stubble
Little islands of sunshine
Light up the hills
In fortunate places
Always moving
Along with the breeze
And I know I'll be lucky
There's rain in the valley
But my way is clear
Skylarks flooding my head
With beautiful music
And my joy at the summit
A golden Curlew
Lit by the morning
So close I could touch her
On my own little island
Of silver sunlight. #poetry
A moment on this Earth to live, to die,<br></br>as real and unrelenting as a dream;<br></br>phenomena and phantoms pass us by,<br></br>as empty of importance as they seem.<br></br><br></br>We are by choice beneath illusion’s sway,<br></br>our shadowed spirits subject to a whim –<br></br>each phantom a reflection, in its way,<br></br>upon a mirror desolate and dim.<br></br><br></br>One moment we are hidden in a crowd,<br></br>another we go lonely to the grave;<br></br>but ere we don the ceremonial shroud,<br></br>we glimpse the bright reflection that we crave:<br></br>that phantoms, hidden by the dream-world’s mist,<br></br>reveal a fellow dreamer’s lips when kissed.<br></br>
This is beauty
A warm southerly
Like the breath of a lover
Leading me gently
To where I will go
Sweet air
Aniseed spiced
Fennel and chervil
Dandelion clocks
Shine between buttercups
Golden glowing
All along my going
Up to where skylarks
Whisper their prayers
In the cloisters of heaven
Echoing so clearly
in the so gentle quiet
Of a soft summer morning. #poetry
To every person who has shown me kindness
To every person who has injured me
I will cherish and nurture the memory of you until the flame of my life is snuffed out of existence: Equally
For you have made me, and I can only hope for better or worse I enriched the making of you as well
hand-me-down threadbare heirlooms
of common sense and stock phrases
well intentioned tools to short-circuit
critical thoughts
as if we're afraid to be asked or ask
questions we have to think about
too scared to admit we don't know
and that not knowing is default human
but even more afraid to say the clean thing -
not having time to try to find out
is what left us for dead
before we rose, zombie