To have words trampled
Beneath the cart wheels
On the streets
of old St Petersburg
Crimes a mystery
Hung backlit
By brazen streetlight
Broken, worn, blue
Time it takes
To decide ~ are they done?
Will they heal?
Slowly drip feeding
Stew of broth
Building marrow
Until the shine
In the eyes returns
Upon hearing
A chorus
Seeing a glorious
Image of affection
At mere mention
A novel moment
Produces a turrent
Cascading into
Rivers winding
Bringing life
Bearing it to sea
Setting free
So simplistic were the rhymes Of my childhood Aesop and Mother Goose Taught me how to be good Kind and wise Avoid Miss-Understood Yet, they did not share with me In black and white ink How to dare to care When life is on the brink Of falling in and down Afraid there is no settling The nesting and pruning Of love birds in tune With one another Humdrum forgetting Singing, fanning plumage Making room If you should find a lover Try to keep her hand But if lost remember - Not to weep for The Summer nights On a cold, dark night in June.
How long can we last
Without sunshine
Sustenance
Living water?
How far can we go
On two legs
Two wheels
Four tyres?
How many weeks
Can I laugh out loud
Suppress a smile
Dream a while?
How long have you got?
Pure delight
Little fingers find
Feathery treasure
Waving its finery
We shed parts
Of ourselves
For friends keep
To admire
In sharing
They grow
Lighter
Fly higher
Lament
Those of us
Left behind
If a sprout takes root
On an Island
That drifts away
Heading South
It was always there
Seeds that flew in
On the breeze
Hosted by birds
Do we blame these
Mixed leaves?
So what happens
When I wander hills
Wondering whether
This bloom or that
Warrants attention
Is all life
Worth a mention?
I've been around the world
At sea, floating, fighting
Sweating, delighting
In the vastness
Of ocean
Beauty
Deep
Yet, there is no one
Anywhere who
Inspires such
Imagination
As you
For me
How I marvel when Horror and strife Make ordinary turbulence Seem trifling How one image in the wilderness Ignite a longing Lifelong To be inspired To be present In the last days In the silence Is an aspiration Over which we have No accord Though truly Authenticity Girded by love Will always be a Heavy weight I bear it With a smile A laugh, song Stride in step Love thee well
One thing about me I'm rarely care-full Willingly Usually it takes Just a moment or two Inspired by you A glint of the eye Upturned mouth Laugh it out I am won Will climb high Mountains Swim deep Oceans Earth might Freeze over Future dim Soldier on And do it all Not for me Only For love
She sits enthroned
Her head of stone
Arms incapable
Of waving royally
Disempowered
For her beauty
Strength, immortality
Divine femme
No king of beasts
Can protect her
From iconoclasm
Cult postmodern
Mother to all
Yet none to rest
On her thighs
Soothed by breast
A body erect
All that remains
Of love
~John Elliott Classics Museum, University of Tasmania.
Heartache
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
Jamie Anderson (Author of Doctor Who).
Count the stars of heaven 