Gravity

Take it to the grave
Reasons for leaving
Staying and believing
Committing thine self
To fate or worse

Make treacherous path
Smoother for dealing
Trading and receiving
All I could ask for
More or less

Ticket of freedom
Handed no pleading
Wishing upon leaving
For a hand to grasp
Now and then

Gravity of relieving
Tales of far and wide
Filtered for pleasing
Open heart and mind
When and wherever

Where is she leading?

Gracious Spring Tide

Aside

Horizons open out behind and before my eyes

Where once closed lids were anointed by the sky

A feast of coloured feathered wings adorn the quiet street

Where once a common sparrow was admired

Sprigs of white blossoms litter the greenway edges

Where once the swarm of pests had devoured

A window bush explodes in yellow flowers and vivid green

Where once the worm had eaten all bud and leaf

 

The Springing Sun adorns my bedroom mirror and wall

Where once the light was blinding and the shades my coverall

Pale green new leaves float dreamily on the warm soft breeze

Where once apologies for the diseased tree next door

A drone of bees parade along the front blooming tower

Where once a drone of ghostly voices furled my brow

Little boy lambs bleat delight in hands and friends

Where once they fended alone as eagle descends

 

The tower clock is bypassed for the bustling doctor’s street

Where once the sanctity of pillowed pews was sweet

Hopeful conversations in the sun and houses meet

Where once mere imaginings of popular masses to greet

How ready as we’d ever been to step into Unknown

Where once control had reigned and error was shown

Faces, I daily pray and long to see an Image old

Where once their living wisdom was untold

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Street Art, Konstance, Germany. By ‘Nilko and Rusl’

Past-love archive

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“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
Beryl Markham, West with the Night

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“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
Kahlil Gibran

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“We’re going all the way ’til the wheels fall off and burn.”
Bob Dylan

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“You made me happy and you made me laugh, and if I could do it all over again, I would not hesitate. Look at our life, at the trips we took, the adventures we had. As your father used to say, we shared the longest ride together, this thing called life, and mine has been filled with joy because of you.”
Nicholas Sparks, The Longest Ride

The Year of the Nottingham

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The lights confuse us in the night

Tracking right to left and left to right

Steady beacon constant on the bow

Torch flashing sail; waves on metal plough

 

All eyes front, gazing at the steady stream

Of fishermen, leisure yachts passing near abeam

Pitch black warrior of steel, cruising twenty knots

Through a minefield of coral reef and sandy spots

 

In the dead of night watch, that steady light ahead

Lost our nerve, our confidence, woke captain from his bed

Stop all engines, reassess, ignore the fuming Nav

No saving face, or gold of rank, sleeping sailors we have

 

Keep them safe, secure in racks dreaming of their home

On the bridge the young watchkeeper has eyes like radar dome

It was the year I did execute the perfect come ’round

Aft of the Nottingham, the day before it ran aground