Soundings

Posted on April 1, 2016 by aperture

Barstools, beers and lonely cheers

Sideways glances, sound and fears

Top of the loft, corner of the street

Just dropping off, by chance again we meet

Perched high above on a leather bus seat

Looking down on you as sun and horizon meet

Living through pictures on your wall

Passing on paper cranes, love and all

Resonating strings and sings around

Searching for words unspoken sound

Fathom feeling depths unknown

Silence falls like shell shock tone

Rivers of lyrical, satirical rhymes

Flood down the mount of eternal time

A single vase of living water, blooms

Tapped from the source in our living rooms

Iron clad blood red

Image

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Nos Ferrato: We, the Ironclad (excerpt)

Ashes in lashes,
Dust becomes rust
Enter this Temple,
in You I trust

.
Three stones at the altar
Five moors to the creek
Seven days for hunting
Nine chains that peak

Ironclad crosses
the blood that seeps,
red through this armour,
wounds what weeps…

Enter this Temple,
enter it full,
From the grove, the forest —
my Lord, my Rule

Illuminate

Posted on January 6, 2016 by aperture

It is not a situation where

what you emanate

reaches me unchanged,

to reflect what you radiate.

It is the essence of my being

to take in and absorb

the streams of mercy

that flow out from your source;

feed me and make me whole,

make me grow beyond my limits –

strong, broad, I tower over all.

You give your all to me,

I soak up your energy

preoccupied with you

Until the fall..

Dearest Hope

Posted on January 1, 2016 by aperture

I hope…

keep yourself from feeling

resentment at my leaving you

here, my dearest.

It is joyous to depart,

do not let sadness taint

the inevitable start

to a “new” day.

Do not hold it against Him,

let comfort cover you

and soften the impact

you feel after free-fall.

It will save you, bruised not broken.

I am nothing but

a haunted house

occupied by a Ghost

that keeps all others out.

I fear it not, for it dispels all fears

– the hate and the fight –

it lets in the light through darkened shutters,

breaks down inhabitable disguise.

I stare into your face

no mask, of self – a trace,

an empty broken shell

awaiting to be whole

and filled with life anew.

No cold, hard, barren ground,

broken fossils incomplete

no slowly sinking mound

weathered turf, carved concrete,

chiselled words standing proud.

Within one heart rests humanity, whole –

my only other hope is you are there

once you too, are grown and old.

Add. 43490 f.23

—————————————————-

Image source

True life

Posted on December 9, 2015 by aperture

“Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife,
Some pure ideal of a noble life
That once seemed possible? Did we not hear
The flutter of its wings and feel it near,
And just within our reach? It was. And yet
We lost it in this daily jar and fret,
And now live idle in vain regret;
But still our place is kept, and it will wait,
Ready for us to fill it, soon or late.
No star is ever lost we once have seen,
We always may be what we might have been.
Since good, tho’ only thought, has life and breath,
God’s life – can always be redeemed from death;
And evil, in its nature, is decay,
And any hour can blot it all away;
The hopes that, lost, in some far distance seem,
May be the truer life, and this the dream.”

– The Ghost in the Picture Room by Adelaide Anne Proctor, in “The Haunted House” by Charles Dickens.

My sole one

Posted on November 30, 2015 by aperture

You fit me
Like an old shoe
Been resoled, shined
Renewed
Who is wearing who?
Strung out to dry
Hopes are high.

Eminence

Posted on November 30, 2015 by aperture

Our position does not give purpose
Just our faith.

Ours is a Kingdom which cannot be shaken.

Six feet

Posted on November 29, 2015 by aperture

man in shoe

All I receive

these days

is junk mail.

Now I no longer

have the need

will you wear

my shoes?

—————————————————-

Image (C) Carlos Barria /Reuters

An Ocean of Firmament

Posted on November 20, 2015 by aperture

stargazingman

An infinite dome of sky was expanded above us

an ocean of firmament of which the dwellers among

houses and mountains can have but little conception.

The troops of glittering stars,

the dark, the shrouding night,

the unaccustomed voices of my companions,

deepened the awe that oppressed me, and,

as I stood between them, I became as earnest

and occupied as themselves.

I forgot everything but the incomprehensible grandeur

of the universe revealed to me,

and the majestic sweep of planets

across the field of the telescope.

What a freshness of awe and delight came over me!

What floods of thought came,

wave upon wave, across my mind!

And how insignificant I felt

before this wilderness of worlds!

Hesba Stretton – The Ghosts in the Clock Room in Charles Dickens’ tale ‘The Haunted House’.