what will be emboldened as the blossom falls?

enfolded now
now it's getting late
and the thread is tightened

people hurry home
scurry along the streets
seeking creatures that they are

I am being moved
sometimes slowly, sometimes not
breaking open, closing tight shut


it matters not
it matters not
we come and we go

we go and return
and always see the same
yet not, yet not

what has changed?
what have i become?
what will be emboldened

as the blossom falls?
and it is my destiny to fall
a losening grip ...

fragment
of the mystery
that i am

o, the still point
of tragedy
has a silent core

[the wind
bends
the bough]

abide there
my love
encode the silence

until
you are
no more

My dream of you is a daydream

My dream of you
is a daydream /
It is filled with light /
Intelligence sparks /
Small fires are lit
to keep us warm
when it's dark

There is a dark cloud 35,000 feet above Europe

There is a dark cloud 35,000 feet above Europe
And an eerie calm
The wind has vanished
The planes aren’t flying
The volcano’s still spewing
Dust and ash into the atmosphere above our heads
[But no one is mourning]
No one is asking for the mysterious mighty breath
To blow the dark cloud west

There is a dark cloud 35,000 feet above Europe
And it's not going away
The build up of pressure from the land of ice
Is now too much – and oh my
[The debt cannot be borne]
An eruption: the northern land is an angry man
Casting his shadow on those with more money in their pockets
Whilst the countless nameless die daily in the south
A mighty interruption ensues …

... A journey though five countries
Eleven hours, light and night
A city break, station and motion
Countless nameless people scrabbling to get back home
Queries, tickets and stuff, and hours and hours of news
Counting the cost and the ripping off
No parliament, no union, no summit
No one who has the power to say, enough is enough!

There is a dark cloud 35,000 feet above Europe
Today in Brussels from the window of a slowly moving train
I saw nearly naked woman after woman posing in shop after shop window
I was on my way to the El Greco exhibition
Where I would consider in the gallery's artificial light his masterpiece
The Disrobing of Christ
Red light, broad daylight, the night is narrow field to be buried alive in
The turning of wheels on the rail way track seemed to beat out the lie
[There is no wrong, it matters not]
As the ticket touts, the bankers, the people traffickers all proudly line up

On my way back I saw them still bending and swaying behind the glass
And oh my [No one is mourning]
The eerie calm deepens
The dust and ash descends
For God’s sake Europeans, let us look up!
And ask for the mysterious breath
To cancel the debt
And blow the dark mighty cloud
As far as the east is from the west

Evensong

I walk upon the ancient stone
I bend towards words and peer into to the meaning beneath the one shown
I wait for silence to engulf the day’s end
I remain in the darkness not remembering anything at all
I stand alone
[My love, the birds are flown]
I see figures scurry away to hiding places deep within the city walls
I look upon today’s intentions threading through my actions with no way back
I hear a whispering tonight weaving through the branches of my mind
Weeping will not cease in this life
The dark night is long
Upon my arm now rest
Strive in all things for completeness

The Widow’s Surplus

Bereaved as I was for these many years
Comfort grew as I leaned heavenwards
And now so late in life learning
From the man they called Master
Listening to his words fall like drops of pure water
Onto my parched ears
And trickle down into my heart
I would go and hear him rain or shine
Poor as I was, with no man to lean upon
Except this one
Wherever he went
Rivers of people flowed round him
He was a rock
And I lived in a desert
With a hardened people
But now forgiveness flourished
Green shoots of healing pushed up through
Stony ground
Deliverance was demonstrated time after time
Each step of his imprinting the earth with God’s footprint
I would move out of my widow’s house whenever he was near
I’d travel too, because when I thought all love had died
My widow’s heart had glowed warm again
My widow’s clenched hand wanted to reach out
But what did I have?
What could I offer the owner of all?
The Master had never seen me
Knew not my name
But today when I woke from my widow’s sleep
My thoughts were full of him as I emptied my purse -
A sign of my unending trust
God in me – me in God, I knew not
I cared not for tomorrow’s bread
Because today, today I was full
Today I would go to the treasury
Rub shoulders with the rich
My one cent would drop from my open palm
And I’d think of the Master’s words from the mount
About sparrows and lilies
Bereaved as I was, it would be something no man saw
And I’d smile through my tears
Because in that act I'd be a widow no more

This is the time for poetry

This is the time for poetry ...

The young man in the café
On the next table to me and my closest poetry friend
Sat penning verse
Line after line in swift movements
Of the hand
I glanced over every now and then
As my friend and I talked pure poetry –
From where it had taken us, until now

And then there was the businessman
Next to me on the bus homeward
He sat swiftly scanning line after line
I strained to see the book’s title
The Wrecking Light

I watched his suited reflection in the front window
Of the double-decker
His hands slowly turning the pages
As if searching for green shoots
To appear between the concrete cracks of his day

I got out three A4 sheets of my most recent poems
Which were folded in my handbag
And read them -
Our shoulders almost touching

I looked it up The Wrecking Light when I got home
And, O my …
Brilliant but unrettingly bleak was the consensus -
A sign of the times

This is the time for poetry …

This is the time to find
The rhyme and the rhythm

This is the time for poetry …

When smallness presses us
Into the darkest of corners
When disappointments plummet
One after the other
Into the hidden pool of our souls

This is the time for poetry …

The seed that slips down the concrete crack
Does not die

This is the time for poetry …

Poetry will find the unattended part of you
And blow the dust away

Lifecycle

A stone falling to the ground
A cloud moving across the sun
Moonlight

The crest of a wave
The sand on the shore
Wisdom

The shade of a tree
Raindrops on grass
Birdsong

A dream in the dark
A light in the morning
Sympathy

The passing of time
The losing of love
Silence

A touch of the hand
A beat of the heart
Knowledge