verse

Seasons

Summer showers pass, the fast does not last,

Except for the poor straying souls that starve;

Still expected to remedy the past

Misdemeanours they did not themselves carve.

Reluctant to release its fiery nip,

Autumn holds onto its cold, brazen frost;

Occasional thaws calm a brittle tip,

Anxiety leaves as red trees count the cost.

Deep winter blankets cushion, howls and blows,

Comfort drawn from the store is forgiving.

The starry visitation comes and goes,

We remember that life is worth living.

Spring, oh at last, does bring ample bounty;

Time to feast – fruit released from its beauty.

Exit right

It’s beyond the day after

and the aftermath does not add

to our joy or our laughter

but summons our pain

– reminiscent of infant earache –

underlying, intensifying, uncontrollable:

screaming for a solution to take

the bitter taste of the pill

from our hearts, our minds

suffering from our brother’s ills

– awaiting a dawn after the night –

in the muddy ruins of twilight.

safety

Trampoline

squeak squeak

out of the bubble

I reach a peak

ups and downs

in a Caley pine frame

back turned on

the window pane

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The remains of yesterday

I was sitting in the dark
and wondered if it was a metaphor
or whether I was just too lazy
to turn on the light
when I realized
that it was a metaphor
for laziness.

The passing place

What is this? A passing place

a space with room to manoeuvre

and remove the prospect of collision

not the correct space for turning

but if that yearning be pressed

it would pass

 

A pause, a glance

something heartfelt that you can’t articulate

the deadweight of a stone

in the belly of the wolf

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Is this not a love song?

To have a proper gander

at the state we’re in today

we need to sit still,

keep quiet,

not enter into the fray.

A senseless series of suppers

I wouldn’t normally reblog my own post but this seems relevant today after the murder of a Member of Parliament outside their constituency surgery. The silencing of those who tirelessly advocate for others is something that I find truly abhorrent. Another voice lost, another sad stain on our society to sicken the soul.

thejerichoroads's avatarthe jericho roads

Would you have chosen the same

if you had known? Blown by the winds

of change and dissatisfaction.

A little goat’s milk, perhaps

some hard boiled eggs.

Would you take direction

from those who would document

your campaign or refrain

from hot sauce and hot topics

to settle for some corned beef?

Would it be a release, a relief

to know of your ultimate consumption?

Sit me up, turn me loose

the proof is in the pudding.

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The Angst Trilogy

Angst

part 1

can a thing be a thing

if it does not exist

beyond the mind

I persist

…

part 2

redigere

…

part 3

“yes Mum”

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