How the Seasons, always
they do separate
when comes the time is final.
To leave us only, with their absent faces
caught between the brittle branch
of man, and wind.
Red random now, are those petals poor,
thoughts of tears
that bury deep, beneath our hurried feet.
In blacks and whites of reason
whose distance far divides
in what tomorrow strives to bring.
And, when the mornings, sunlight smile,
diluted in it’s length of stay –
shall dim to fade.
We, will offer no more
understandings of this fight.
But in words of empty, shallow ending days
I hope you understand:
We are sorry for your loss.
She stoops, stopping
to observe the mackerel catchers
feet planted firm – float fishing
upon the rocks.
Loathed to see them vertical
squirming silver backed
against the sky’s
Their end, the fisherman’s
bread and butter laid out
neatly for tea.
Poppy October 22st 2016 ~xx~
The clouds suck in –
The wind, soaring its passage
venting her untamed
bleak of moorland self destruction.
How bends and nods the cotton grass
flimsy in their slight fluffed bobble hats.
Hunched reduced, against this their
barren back drop of existence.
The sun put to bed – long before her
face she aired –
Dreary this place of home
where the sound of faceless
moorland birds, split
to open, the deadening rush of winter’s
the fading heather beds
like purple pitted bruises
still with a view
to catch the seldom wanderers eye.
Home calls the final residing guests
as to their wings they beat in flight
far – far away.
Broken back of moons half light –
Of dog fox barks, and owls that
screech the tongue of fear in man.
So, we shall withdraw
waiting on spring – hopeful on the arrival
of old friends made.
Deep regrets in those extended sighs,
for the acceptance of many
that we know,
we will never greet again…
Do they scatter flowers in hell?
I am anxious and both pitied to discern.
Their exquisiteness climbs my memories wall
their perfume, crafts you effortless to recall
Shall you miss our relationships desire?
Think of me when night, wraps cold
its friendless frame.
I know I made you smile, if only for the moment
then a moment, sometimes lasts a life.
I fear the cold abstract progress of life
knocking ever explicitly at your door.
How soon –
I ask, shall you forget?
Should I lay in heaven or in hell:
Of that, I simply have no say…
May 6th 2015
Not for her this slam of day
against those, violet rays that talk
of calmer reason.
For when she hears the trees, who dare
to catch the breeze, then laugh with ease,
she sets aside her mind to bleed.
For all about each season – behind
the windows curtained glass
she watch’s, bridled not for hope
of long, beyond forgotten –
then blown to scatter distant brown
with toss of hand
amid that bed of earth, still warm.
Then all about did listen
as the sun set down her light to drop.
Quietly setting over them; as the day
dropped to her knees.
1st May 2015
side by side, on the lawn
next to the pond
that ran down to your house.
Sitting there together, subversive
in our views – yet never lovers not
to each other.
We wanted to live, see the world
stepping far away from our backgrounds
Suicide, births marriages, and deaths
unremitting seasons –
Side stepping the foot paths
that led good men to their destiny.
how the unearthly bonds of our singular
would one day bring us back as one…
April 11th 2014