Summer, Belatedly
Were I upright,
Beloved,
I would assign you to Hades
Then follow you
Weeping a river
For all mad with love,
To bathe within
And find their cure.
But I am not!
So, I slip beneath you
And find my summer,
Belatedly,
And full,of flowers.
Death And Emily Dickinson
Pale, this lover climbs the stairs.
Cold-expectant –
She pulls back the coverlet –
And turns her face
To a chill embrace
Death covers her her moans with a kiss – to the lips
From icy fingertips.
Suddenly – as he come –
She goes.
OK, Look. This was As Far As I Got: … Sorry.
Appear
Embark
Shakespeare
Plutarch
Bemused
Imposed
Refused
Disposed
Berate
Pursue
I’ll-fate
Undo
Defied
Died
First you take a twinkle in God’s eye.
I don’t know, perhaps being the Only One was
Too lonely, even for a Deity. So …
In an explosion of imagination, it all kicked off.
Did She have to think about , for, like,
Eons? Imagining the juxtaposition of quarks
The spin of electrons and
The mass of a boson?
I doubt it.
I’m alert to the possibility that
God thought, one day, of Me.
“Now THERE’S a thing!” He pondered, “Let’s do this!”
And out it came!
The firmament –
The waters above and below –
Stars, bears, whales and flowers –
(I am especially fond of flowers)
!
I don’t expect that God had to gather, chop and stir
I’m Old School. I think They said,
“Let there be Light,”
And there was light.
And at the end of it all,
There
Was
Me.
This is how a poet looks …
Calm, reflective, no angel
Carrying sixty-odd years with a certain
Panache …
And this is how a poet feels –
This one, anyway –
Glad to be alive
(I think you can see that by
The look in my eyes)
I have children and adventures
Evidently
This is what a poet has to say:
“I’m no better than you, and I
Know I will like you, because
You have looked at me
And smiled, perhaps,
And are STILL
Here!”
Flat-As-A-Pancake Day, bereft
Of froth and babble full of dread Mundane work-a-day
SOMETHING must be done!
Let's do it!
Smile. At everyone, some will stick … And come flashing back.
Run up the stairs
Make coffee and
Hand round a crisp, white paper bag
Full of very sticky toffees.
Tip a beggar
Listen to a concerto
Or a rock band and
At the beginning of every email
Say something …
Different. Kind, perhaps.
Remember, when you
Actually finish something,
How it felt when you were in the Juniors and your teacher
Pressed a gold star on your
Careful scrawl.
Good eh?
Pick a moment when everything
Would otherwise be too tedious to bear
Take yourself off to tthe Caribbean
Lie on on a beach with your lover
Let the surf nibble your toes …
Or, if this is too much,
Be ten again and play
Hide and seek in a bright Spring wood
With your sister …
See! It's working isn't it?
Already you're looking forward to Monday,
And have change jingling in your pocket
To buy toffees
And tip a beggar
Rain: A Poem Marking The End Of Summer
A petulant wind throws rain at my window
I am cold, and I wonder at it. Is this,
Then, the end of summer?
Dipping deeper beneath the duvet
I picture a window pane
Running with tiny rivers –
Racing to oblivion – and I remember
A wet summer, sometime.
A younger self whispers my name
And I laugh out loud!
Surely, winter is coming.
” This isn’t love,” she said,
It’s a poem.
And she handed him some words
That whorled and skittered,
Blazing like a sun in the era
Between them.
“This isn’t “Au revoir,”
He replied,
Giving her his farewell.
I expect that startled you, didn’t it?
You weren’t expecting a break-up.
Poets usually deliver THOSE
With fireworks and floods.
Sometimes endings are
Because they just have to
Be.
And that’s OK.
Ah, but wait!
If you linger here, you’ll
See him slip inside
To warm himself.
He will look nonchalant, understanding that
She will pretend she doesn’t
Know he’s here.
Yes, I know, God’s a problem for you.
And What ABOUT suffering?
Like HE carries a Kalashnikov and
Murders babies.
I suppose she could stop it,
If we really wanted her too.
Ssooo I said to God
What’s it all for then?
Admittedly, I didn’t really want to hear.
Somehow, the mystery holds
No mystery for me:
I am that I am
And
That suffices.
Anyhow, here’s what God said:
” It’s for you. ”
Just
thought
you’d
like
to
know.
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Dancing Across The Cosmos 