Season of singing

I love all the unseen things about you

I wait for them to make themselves known

a word, a look, a gesture, a smile

a gift of Love – one treasure I own.

 

When I stand before the body, in the flesh

I am confused. It’s You that I miss.

I respond in words I don’t understand

I lose part of myself in this.

 

Waiting for the unseen,

the centre of our being

to come forward again

In the Spring.

 

When you play, your work, your dream

it is there – the unseen

making music in my ears

as sweet as a song of songs.

 

Sweet fruit. Spring flush

Eat, dear friends, and drink your fill of love¹

The days were Made for this.

The season of singing has come.²

 

Love stronger than death

burns like a Mighty fire

Many waters cannot quench

Nor rivers sweep it away.³

 

By day the Lord directs his love,
    at night his song is with me—
    a prayer to the God of my life. –Psalm 42:8

buds over the stream


¹Song of Songs 5:1

²Song of Songs 2:12

³Song of Songs 8:6-7

Image source: ‘Looking through the trees to the stream’ by John Groves

The Year of the Nottingham

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

 

 

 

 

To my girl

girlHaving friends like these
Makes it good to be alive

Once a loved one burdened
Me with my life

Ever since I doubted
Was I made for strife?

My worth upon this earth
Is not mother or a wife

A helper and completer
For those grafted to the vine

All these inner longings
Are a gift from God divine

Now my little angel, rest
Until the day is fine

All your gifts and hugs to give
I’ll gladly take as mine

—————————-Photo by Alexander Shustov

If the walls could speak..

Walls with words

Look! you live in a fortress

with stone walls built up high

the workmanship is old

the roof lets in the sky

there is treasure in the mortar

if it all falls in

the slightest gap a way

for new life to begin

a record of your past

lies hidden here within

the mansion in the sky

is quite unlike these walls

Its Caretaker welcomes you and I

and would never let it fall.

“Everlasting Rock”