September 12, 2012 § Leave a comment
There’s nothing commonplace here.
This commonplace notebook,
bound in ashy card and lined with blurred red.
It’s not so commonplace at all.
Is the mud commonplace, that puts forth new shoots of Spring,
and feeds the hungry mouths
that stoop to seek their sustenance?
No, not so commonplace.
And here is the sea,
awash with thought and alive in dreaming.
Fall in, be curdled by the riptide and buffeted by the bluster
as nightly thoughts come rushing in.
Not so commonplace I find.
The whale is sleeping, dreaming, drifting.
Buoyant in lights that blind and glitter,
floating in shoals of angelic and dying phosphorescence.
Is that so very commonplace?
And it is there in the library of thoughtful books
that gently age on their sun-warm shelves.
There in the gloaming dim, with its dust motes cascading in golden highways,
leading to that eternal resting bench – on the hill, in June.
No, not at all common place I’d say.
February 15, 2012 § Leave a comment
We perch on mountain tops
Their peaks our crumbled thrones
Though I can barely see your beacon
I feel your breath carried on the west wind
You echo through my caves
Resonating with the rocks
Toppling empires of stalagmites
As you carve a winding path
To the chambers of my heart
In my weather-beaten core, where open veins glisten
Haemorrhaging their precious contents
Your whisper catches an up-draft
And, buffeted by eddies and bluffs,
Spills its tender words over my cold ears
We may seem immobile
Roots planted in shifting aeons beneath our surface
But, though they may not see it,
We march towards each other
A slow dance through time
Crushing every obstacle
That would dare to stand between us.