hang like curtains
no longer able
to keep out the cold
on the deep sea
the break water
the sailing boats
and naval ships
the headland beckons
the horizon calls
and the sun keeps
the chill of the clouds
Two strong swimmers
the dark waters
and return shimmering
to the shore
Friday, 17 April 2015
Tuesday, 13 January 2015
They sent me away, they did, smiling and waving, few provisions in my sack, no compass, save the flickering stars
And what a night it was, howling moaning wind whispering through every part of my poor aching body
Speaking softly and slowly a prayer from an ancient book: Help me, O LORD my God: O save me according to thy mercy* …
And there it was, just the fact of a sole figure moving into darkness and the vastness of space
Thursday, 11 December 2014
What will become of me?
Of you who are reading this?
What will become of the blood and the bones that we hope will last when natural beauty has faded?
What will become of love not expressed, not returned, never seen the light of day?
And love that is, that was, that basked in the shining sun?
What will become of the ones that could not be saved?
And of the ones that were plucked from the raging seas?
Winning or losing ....
The world turns and turn we do in spinning space
And turn we must upon the perilous knife-edge of choosing
Tuesday, 11 November 2014
Grown in such inhospitable ground
Petals of pity trembling in battle’s breeze
Pity for all that’s lost, for all in the grip of blind force
Pity for every soul torn, for the weight of unrelenting remorse
Distressed soil of forgotten fields your home
The earth weeping the blood in which your seed is sown
Pick the poppy, make its death your own
Wear it close to your heart, walk on
But do not look for peace
It is the shoes on your feet
Published in The Cool of the Day, poems by SC Fordham (2009)
Monday, 10 November 2014
Love is setting like the sun
So soon to disappear into the unseen real
To sleep, to dream of requite in the deep heart of an earth
That does not feel loss
That does not know longing
That does not hold life
How long will the night to come last?
How long will this last light remain?
Time filters what strength is left through ancient fingers
Whilst the world waits
Watches and waits for the first flickering rays of hope