Revisiting a Pocketful of Pebbles

1 of 12 in the Jemverse series ‘Back to the Sea’

I have a pocket full of pebbles
But some are no longer there
Weighty, they burn a hole and yet
Their tactile pleasure keeps them there. For a while.

My pebbles are selected well
I will see them and feel them and then
When I am sure that one is right
I will add it to the others where it becomes a friend.

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Curtain Call

Once more, the roar of applause thaws his heart and makes him wish he didn’t have to depart this stage. Where had the years gone? He wonders. How did each day, so long, become faint flashes of memory? An ambling trajectory of wasteful debauchery, his life has passed him by like a distant plane in the sky. And now, as he clocks out of consciousness and stares across an endless necropolis, the clapping masses have gone silent. His heart is no longer raging and defiant. Overhead, the black curtain is falling and the blissful escape of the void is calling.

Friendship

I met a friend
he wasn’t well
we chatted for a while
And when I left
he said he felt
quite better with a smile

About a journey

I wrote about a journey
I started way back when
the words that found their way
to the pages from my pen
were from an adolescent
who hadn’t yet found life
yet wrote as though he knew it all
through torment, angst and strife

Shadows

on the wing of this boat
behind your strewn words
shadows in silver robes

The coffee lover

I am a coffee lover
am quite partial to the bean
But have to say I’m spoilt
by that which comes from my machine
So absolutely gorgeous
is the flavour every day
that instant granules fade
To insignificance I’d say

Squirrels

squirrels in a basket
shadows long for skies
caves coiled in bellies
munch on pin-hole rays

A day with Wolfgang

Spent a day with Wolfgang
mostly sleeping in the sun
He is a very special chap
agreed by everyone

Of windows and gold

We have a window
to look to the world
and watch every day
as life is unfurled
For me it’s a garden
as nature’s fair hand
paints changing pictures
of my bit of land

Pebbles

pebbles on a rustic eye
dophin leather on one
paired to a wrinkled bone
I land from Mt. Cloud
enroute to Dolphin bay

Someday

someday, memories will move
on fine turtle backs
who nailed our skies

someday, your words will come
in the woodpeckers’ ink
which wrote your song

Really really big

Three thousand people
In Brighton last week
met Brian to talk about space
Not a seat there was free
it was thrilling to see
with excitement right there in the place

The screen on the stage
was the biggest I’d seen
and when filled with the cosmos out there
It filled one with awe
with the things that you saw
and the wonders that he had to share

Fences of Time

he dug them straight
fences of time
with granite hands
fences of time
no shadows to bend
no stars to spare

Allotment Day 1

We’ve been remiss
and months have passed
since we last came this way
So it’s not much
of a surprise
that nature’s had its say

The weeds are rife
the grass is long
the mud has all but vanished
But we are armed
with all the tools
to see that this is banished

Transposes

the lamps croak
their only short hymn
to limp into their buds
where only age dares
wit snug in its egg

For the dancing

I wrote a few lines
with some words to digest
which I hope you’ll embrace
and in them invest
For they came from the heart
and a dance in my mind
And have their own music
to help you unwind

-22.02.19_12:31-

Hanging out with friends,

Be the light..

Picture Courtesy: Internet

He stood there
Head down
Feeling small
Counting his uphill climb
Imagining how painful
His journey is going to be.

Footsteps

footsteps, they tap my mind
footsteps, on the grooves
inches of sounds, snowflakes
bundles of drizzles, yesterdays

Monday morning haiku

No 2 of 7 in the Jemverse ‘Haikuweek’ series

Monday morning comes
Awakened to hot coffee
Its fragrance lifts me

To the resting day

1 of 7 in the Jemverse ‘Haikuweek’ series

To the resting day
I relinquish everything
My soul is refreshed

Sparrows

sparrows; wore my feelings
in echoes, squeaked my reason
they robbed scraps of my heart
into grey valleys of time

Fires

Fires, they blew sirens
Stones, uncreased in prayer
Fences, in unfolded black
Leaves, trace crude airs

Particularly Sunday

Don’t have a problem
with most days
They fly by when I’m busy
though sometimes
when there isn’t time
I might get in a tizzy

Of rust and gold

And to these days
when all I hold
is flecked with rust
or painted gold
I know which of
these I prefer
So to the gold
I will defer

Timeless String

hands wrung, long pauses

meditate on a timeless string

creased legs, woven fates

Haves and Have Nots

beaks, nudge time off cliffs
into arms, the skies made
roots, roll ambitions into hearts
for desires, the coats hide

Sleep II

I’m working on the premise
that something soon will change
and when I’m least expecting it
A move to rearrange
will catch me by surprise one day
and the dove-cote doors will close
cocooning me in slumber
from my head down to my toes