Grow Big

Lying motionless for weeks

Eyes tracing fleur de lis

The peeling paper of grief

Lit by dappled window

 

We hauled ourselves o’er river

Up valley, down street

A fortress of relief

Where the sun streams in

 

Letterbox dropped all over

Exhaustive help depletes

Children playing down the creek

Treated from top to feet

 

The wardrobe grew expansive

The widening face to greet

In the mirror of my memory

My morning stranger meet

 

A thickening of walls and doors

A latch that won’t fool many

The welcome mat rolled up and out

For neighbours warm and friendly

 

The distance and the silence grew

A universe between them

Majestic prose still flows in space

Though gracious few receive it

 

The stranger in the mirror

Grows accustomed to the stare

Our eyes meet and smile

A sweet surrendered air

 

Hiding in plain sight

My former figure forgets

Politely nod and carry along

The new friend in our midst

 

New and aged silver and brave

Though some might say contrary

The glimmer in her eye reveals

The joy in giving Glory


Featured Image: Photo by Hello I’m Nik on Unsplash

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

20170625_151555
Street Art, Konstance, Germany. By ‘Nilko and Rusl’

Gracious Spring Tide

Nothing but the Blood

I gave away my feathers to a wounded bird, mid-flight

She fondled in her fingers and gazed at colours bright.

Both of us now cold, I wandered down the pale pink hall

Warmed by hands and hearts – reciting heaven, gold, gems and all.

With bravery I wore a cross-shaped medal I didn’t earn

A signed and sealed commission of men has joined the funeral burn.

Though many think the flow of blood is death, despair and strife

I know for sure it’s freedom from guilt and our eternal life.

The darkness that I wear will not do for wedding ball

Patiently, I changed the feathers for a pure white shawl.

 

 

Image credit

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

Wired for Sound

Tuning in frequently

sound bites, snippets

pop up in low fi

filling my mind

through wireless ears

Static surrounds and drops down

Ringing and pinging hearts beating

Your gestures punctuated

by prayers and pleading

begging for what we’re needing

to hear

connecting dots

between points

numbered

pulling together

problems and silence

soaked deep in Word

sewn together into

a larger world view

illustrate illustrate

no mundane repartee

sacrifice secular stoics

devout pleasure in pain

tears restrain

buoyed by passion

de-liberation? wrong..

good people I’ve managed

to hold attention too long

 

 

Thanks to Mikey