Who decides when to leave or stay?
Presence is a twist of fate
A state of mind
A lovers' debate
Soaking in all the senses
A lifetime of inspiration
Absorbed in the space
of a day
Words cannot describe
the affect on body and mind
But if you wish me to
I will try
Some choose to Live and let die Watch a mother cry Hear an old man grieve Turn a cold hand, leave Avoid another vow Furrows in the brow Take another's toil Feed the ego, spoil Eternally asking Am I one or the other? Do I love? Do I bother?
Buoyed by day
Particles of light
Fall upon me
From a dream
Rain on a tin roof White noise soothing Muddled mind To dream Each drop echoes A different sound Like a typewriter of Make believe Writing novellas Words unspoken Moves a token Gesture of love Sounds identify Life unbounded Connect to world Eden above Cherishing dark blue Burning midnight oil Happiness toil Space beside With you
It’s the things that aren’t said that hurt the most.
I can hear the tower clock chime from my pillow
It is the only constant I hear.
But even this clock;
I envy the care and attention
it receives for its restoration.
I hope to have its constancy at heart.
‘O Holy Spirit, as the sun is full of light, the ocean full of water,
Heaven full of glory, so may my heart be full of thee.’
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
Image source: ‘Looking through the trees to the stream’ by John Groves
A rare bird indeed
we are exotic, an ancient lineage
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.
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
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.