The Restful Forest
Berry-stained, chubby little hands
cleansed by the glistening dew
as they brush past
countless branches, unawares
they could have climbed.
A scurried glimpse
gone before the rustle
my shameful wince
buried peaks under mounds
Conquered, the knowing sigh.
Right amidst, all the living and dying
Though it touches me, it stirs me not
My hollowed-out trunk
can now, be left alone
to dry, in the golden dusk.
I can't deny, It teems with charm,
and that is enough.
Let us soak in our last night's crackle
as I admire all your webs,
daring, honour matters
loosely flailing, flapping, soaring
Merry fist,
Then I too will go
without a sight,
up in your morning mist.
Suspended ever in wonder-ing,
though finally done, railing
against the inconsolable core.
That path of noble mystery
you too surely will bore.
Tear-stained, muddy, bloody skin
collapsing, trying
to keep ajar the door.
See again. Hear, dear.
And when you're tired, journeying,
know that you're almost home.
Castle Rock
Castle Rock
entombs my mother
as the falling drops
kick back up
off my toecaps
I roam around, alone
lost at home.
The pink blossoms return
with resolute cheer,
cast, pack away, your second-last fear.
The white winter glint, the fade to blue,
glowing yellow-warmth windows
coax out of you
one more year.
Unrepeatable, gem,
laid open to waste
their marauding, sickening pace
Yet engrossed, I summon the trudge
to her yearning coast.
The whisper follows ...
don't let us down
for your own sake,
my imagined grasp
smashing between the rocks
we came back, to settle
these, our old beloved haunts
never forget, in deed
woven, were those firmaments
now take your chance
while the men
stand, for our great
the pure impure
necessarily,
ferocious
In Defens.
Rolling Still Depths
It alone whose glory is.
Its impulses
resting and rippling,
coalescing, then dispersing.
Its potentials
creating, destroying,
pondering, churning ...
Its light of sight
registering and releasing,
gladly remembering
and equally so forgetting.
Its buds
supported,
bask then fold,
the company
for whom
all stories evermore
be told.
Milky Blond
Not an emblem of fire
or fairytale's bed
left me less than a liar
or kept me held, as
Your
milky hair, spiked
up against the night, background
as the moon peaks round
a cloud, to see if it's worth
coming out,
Maybe you can entice it.
Diamond, by the wayside,
Not a care for us,
the burn was too wide
so squelching, chuckling, not loud
just step–step ... to easeful pep.
I glance to check—
My God ...
gnaw that lip one more time,
and the king's safe will crack open too.
Our future's end may be decided,
but I will look back, fondly, upon you.
Do us a favour?
Spread that touch
of yours,
far, and forever.
I only dread
they'll trick your treat.
No. To the blinding light!
As the demons
all bow out
at your feet.
A Stick for Bobby
Silence, at the door
worlds of superior minds, enter, pour.
Wait, watch the horns go
rinse off, quickly, the slog below.
Plot the unworn cobbles
tinker on admitted foibles.
Simple, make of it the best
this, here, is your test.
Gift a little trust,
let the sparks land, courage to the cusp!
Agonise our gentler lies
gladdened, to the bone, when they win the prize.
Now my hand in the pocket
of your holey staple denim jacket.
Just one more job, for today—
A stick, for Bobby.