over shadows
and
btwn
bristling bustle
he watches-
she watches
your next move.
will you arrive?
or
fall?
or roll over,
afraid?
they both are
rooting for home,
for the home team,
for the return
of you
to
me.
close your eyes child,
and come to me.
this dance
is yet
to commence.
freedom
is for the lonely,
the lost
and foolhardy.
do snare, and
entrap me
with that thing
that beats.
do not
leave me
to roam
wild.
let me warm
myself in
our cold empty hearth:
two kindlings
in search of a spark.
do u see?
who
are
u?
do
u
feel
the
power,
of
Who
You
Are?
lost
sheep
&
sly jackals
nibble
and
munch
at your soul.
but there is
more to give,
always,
much more.
Who are you,
but
more
than
yesterday?
white
empty
void
as pure
and devouring
as the darkness.
and
the unholy
obligatory need
to define.
to spin.
to create.
are we
not gods,
diminute?
matches?
i don’t need
no stinking matches.
give me my pen:
kool
hand
luce
is in the house.
burn
it
up,
higher.
hallowed
&
hollowed,
what space
remains
but
the unknown?
back
to the basics.
back to
my roots.
back
to
me,
one last time.
until the next.
skinned knee
and tears tumble.
chipped tooth,
my guts rumble.
missed connections
&
unrequited affections.
i pause
…
…
..
.
frozen
in eternity.
yet,
i want,
i need,
i have,
You.
Now,
i ain’t lost no more.
Rain tumbles from above
seeking the kiss
of
flowering shrubs.
a candle beckons,
and,
a
hot cup of tea:
this,
our
cozy
summer’s eve.
spark
filled
words
illuminate.
(or is that only the light of the screen?)
that familiar
rolling two-step
of two minds sparring;
duelling tongues –
merely surrogates for wary hearts.
embers building
&
growing
secure
in the warmth
of each other’s
soft
glow.
it
may just
be
safe
to
laugh again.
with you
in the
pocket of my smile.
and
with me,
curled snuggly
in the
starlight
of your eyes.
(Gatwick Airport; Horley; Salfords; Earlswood; Reigate; Redhill; Merstham; Coulsdon South; Purley East Croydon; Norwood Junction; London Bridge)
slowly does it.
haste waste
makes
you miss
deer and rabbit
playing chess
on
a toadstool.
death’s beauty
reigns resplendent
among Spring’s
cheap nubile lushness.
and
a tadpole,
giddy with promise,
skips across the wings of a swan.
this is not fantastical musing.
this is observation,
scientific and sincere,
as seen from my mind’s
left eye.
I’ve fallen,
twice
up the tree of love.
then slipped on a ladybird,
or ladybug –or
a pair of lovebugs,
I know not –
but slipped
I did.
Distracted by anarchical
dirges to lost love.
No,
I’ve not my mind lost.
at all.
not in the least
bit.
I still see,
and clearly
intuit.
between moss and
river, elder and ant,
I see
truth and
I see love
sharing
kisses-
and more.
so,
take a slow ride
through the valleys of your bones
discover the old wisdom
you never
ever
learned.
Reader,
I love you.
but
the Universe
loves
you more.
windy
trees
shriek of the coming
storm
that
is already here.
it roiled,
as young hearts toiled
for naught else
but
a clean
start.
but the tempest calls
now
vengeful
frightful
fearful,
of the calm that will come tomorrow.
Title from “A Wrinkle In Time”:
L’Engle, Madeleine. A Wrinkle in Time. New York :Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1962.
theDeprevation 