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The Legend Of The Moon’s Reflection (Republished)

THE LEGEND OF THE MOON’S REFLECTION

Deep in the Northern mountains’ silence
Once long ago
Far from the lands of men there lived a Prince
Cold as snow
All day long he would wander
Like a man possessed
As he went he would ponder
His life’s helplessness

Why it was that what he loved the most grew old and died
Why he found no place of rest however hard he tried
And he threw himself upon the mountainside
And knew himself to be alone and bitterly began to cry

And in his misery he saw
As if in a dream
That where his tears fell to the ground
There sprang forth a stream
And the stream fed a river
That flowed glad and free
From the hills to the lowlands
And so reached the sea

River and seawater
Flowing down together
Though the river ends
The sea lives on forever

And by means of this vision
The Prince was set free
And in his dying moments
At last he could see

Why it is that what we love the most must disappear
Where that place of rest is that is always free from fear
And he flowed into the river with his tears
And knew himself to be the sea without a knower or a seer

And if you gaze far out to sea at night
So they say
Sometimes you’ ll see his face shine in the moon
Far away
And the river still flows
From the hills to the plain
And the sea feeds the river
With drops from the rain

River and seawater
Flowing down together
Though the river ends
The sea lives on forever …

Peekaboo

PEEKABOO

Shoulder to shoulder
Side by side
Joy and sadness
Come and go with the tide

Gaia’s Children (Republished)

GAIA’S CHILDREN

Some live among garbage
Others rule from a palace
Few manage contentment
Whatever their station

She gathers them all, every one
To her heart, her precious ones
And grieves for each lost one
Each teardrop a fresh ocean

Chores

CHORES

This afternoon
I have to walk into town

First it’s to the dentists
To tell them she won’t
Need that appointment now

Then to the post office
To mail off the form
Removing her from the
Electoral roll

Fortunately it’s sunny and dry

It’s two weeks tomorrow

Jet Plane Warbirds (Republished)

JET PLANE WARBIRDS

Noisomely loudly
Splitting our quiet skies
Oh when will you return home?

Be gone, fey daughters of mad Zeus
Be done with twirling your bloody fingers
Fondling their hard-won garlands demanded
And then – oh but of course – soon discarded

Gladiators meet, mete out death, make meat
Reborn as gliadioli – erect, sword-shaped
Leaves and spikes of flowers – overblown
In a superfluity of colour, so over fulsome

Be gone, be gone, we beseech thee
Leave us in peace, in peace
In blessed peace

I Have Not Locked The Door (Republished)

I HAVE NOT LOCKED THE DOOR

A prophet without a name
A patriot without a country
Lost in a dying church
Lost in a black prison
Spanish prison
Small yard to walk round and round
Dry throats of guitars
(This is a short poem
For those who have someone to return to)

When you really need to be close to someone
You do not dare go away and admit you have failed
That is why people sometimes spend the night together
And stay together forever
Until even the touch of another’s hand is empty
And you share things individually

Take a last grand look down the fire escape
In case you ever need to run away fast

~~~~~~~~~~~

So … I decided, on reflection, to give a little background to this piece. Picture someone who is trapped in a relationship and is trying to give some advice to a good friend who is about to enter one. This is not written from a personal here-and-now perspective, but is not pure fantasy either. I simply wanted to capture some of the intimate, unspoken feelings from that point and moment in time. View it as a mental movie to enjoy (or otherwise, as desired); expand it to 90 minutes; make a movie; do it well enough and you could be talking Oscars. Selah.

The Next (Goose) Step

THE NEXT (GOOSE) STEP

The “top” one per cent
Terrified, naturally
Of those they exploit

Their diagnosis?
Organised supervision
i.e.: police state

Badge Of Shame

P & P
…..
…..

BADGE OF SHAME

Pride and prejudice
I love the book but hate it
Used as a motto

Madly In Love (Repost)

MADLY IN LOVE

Her life redrawn as a comic strip … sans comedy.
No longer that dynamic duo. Batteries flat.
Bats in the belfry, robbin’ bewildered senses blind.
And … adrift might best describe it. Hooked, blind and snookered.

…..(He is the one?)

Even lying beside her, not truly here, he lies
oceans away, behind cold fronts, lines of icy bars,
biting winds, squalls of temper, hurricanes of contempt.
Comforts herself with poetry and sweet memories

…..(He is the one!)

that turn to nightmares where he’s drowning, calling her name.
Then she is there, reviving him (mouth to mouth, of course).
Waking to find him gone she recaulks her leaky fancies,
sets her sails for yet another day tacking upwind.

…..(He is the one!)

Eschewing havens, but never her hope, she soldiers on,
soiled sails reduced to tatters, she rows from pole to pole,
trawls the seven seas. Her treasure? Nowhere to be seen.
He has unfurled his true colours: the skull and crossbones.

…..(He is the gone.)

Hay To ‘n’ For The Chief

HAY TO ‘n’ FOR THE CHIEF

……………………………………………………………………………………………This One’s For Charles

They never arrived
The forty acres and mule
Just the mule it seems

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