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

 

 

 

 

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.

Add. 43490 f.23

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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.

knowledge-graph-brain-ss-1920

 

 

Hidden deep

While brothers and sisters were engaged

in a turf war on a global scale

A cold front, hardened, caught adrift

Floats away without mainsail

 

The emptiness perturbed them

As far as the eye could see

But watchful for horizon

Warmer shores come expectantly

 

But, little do they know how

a hot sea current can act

Upon their frozen precipice

They have escaped the simple fact

 

For underneath the narrow tip

the sea sick clambering, cling

A hull full of dangerous cargo

in the underbelly bring

 

All baggage, loot and baffles-full

of stowaways, bilge and gas

No room for living passengers

Just a burly lump of mass

 

The lot on top think handsomely

of their talent at nautical stuff

But from Captain down to Seamen

They’re playing blind man’s bluff

 

While many heard their tale

of floating like sea birds

Many passing ships do fear

The invisible iceberg.

Iceberg

 

All may enter

Image

I came upon a midnight clear,

following a star,

traveled over dark terrain

not measuring how far.

Finally I came near

to where the Saviour lay,

peering in I caught a glimpse,

a baby in the hay.

Though many were drawing near

I stealthily kept pace.

At the entrance to the room

I saw a hardened face.

“Can I come in?” I humbly asked.

“I’ve no incense, oil or gold

I bring myself to worship him”

The One whose birth foretold.

The keeper of the entrance

Looking down on me, grim

Took in my appearance, said

“I cannot let you in,

you’re not a king, bearing gold

and oil is for the dead!

Your incense is not pleasant

perhaps you’d bring a ram instead?”

I fled away to distant land

and waited for the time

to meet him when he grew

to know this Saviour is mine.

I heard every Word He said

from his birth to the tomb

in the streets, or temple court

sitting in the outer room.

When finally His breathing stopped

My heart nearly did too

I waited near and mourned the day

Not knowing what to do.

When he arose he conquered death

His grace had found a way

to make my gift acceptable

Now I await the day,

When I can see Him come again

I need not touch His wounds.

I have felt them for myself

and long for His coming soon.

 

——————————–Earth image source

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ego

thistle balls

‘Tis a weed in the garden

Do nothing to make it grow

Some think it’s just a flower

Daring where it shouldn’t go

Through many will multiply

And choke the others dry

Some, worse are hurtful

Prick your fingers till you cry

Just to show how incessant

cursed ground, set apart, they are

I plucked out a whole garden full

here, you see my scars.