Spectre night light
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Timbre of the Heart
A rare bird indeed
we are exotic, an ancient lineage
migrated south.
We are two much, one to know another
protect, preserve our own our offspring,
territorial ties that wound
What we love, what is it?
The glorious plumage?
A splendour to behold
The sound of our call, cool, titillating talk?
are but echoes in the sky.
No, much more than that.
The most glorious sound to adore
is the heart beating in our chests
Listen, my friend, keenly –
look with those two deep oceans you keep.
See – every word, move, motion,
every flash in the eye, affection
reveals the timbre of the heart.
Buried treasure
I stumbled across this buried treasure
Learned the secrets from a book
Extraordinary insight to the lowly and great
How others learned the secret, I do not know
Life must be lived in the will, not emotions
At birth the gift of freedom of will
The central citadel of man’s being
He stands knocking on the door of the human heart
But the latch of the door is on the inside
This is the entering-in
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
Soundings
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
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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
(C) Christine Ueri
Hard Knock
I didn’t see steal your car
I didn’t wreck your life
I didn’t break your heart
I didn’t want be your wife
I take you as you are
No longer keep a score
In fact, it was you, my friend
Who knocked upon my door.
Illuminate
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
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.
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Image source
gnosco
I know all that I need
to manage my pain.
You have the cure.
Would you knowingly
keep it from me?
To be part of something
bigger than the pain
to show our people
refrain to say ‘no’
To laugh, sing, cry,
to bring relief is
- to know.
Count the stars of heaven 