Here are a few of my poems. There will be more...
Spaces |
|
This then is where
we live in the spaces we make for people inside ourselves. Different shapes and qualities a large and sparkling space for the love of my life some overlapping like a Venn diagram a few irregular ones for friends and certain family members some like a childhood bed too small for who we are now others smooth and comfortable like an old leather jacket for people we know and love well. |
We change or lose or move
some shapes over time and occasionally wonderfully find a new one that fits even when we are no longer young. We can only hold these spaces inside if we have enough room for us as well because this is where we meet and love our others and our selves. |
Sea inside
|
Sometimes
life suddenly slows as if you’re swimming underwater with your clothes on suspended sounds are dull. Shake your head fling your arms in anger try to get out and control how untethered you feel but you’ll fail to make sense of what's going on. This is not for the faint-hearted. All you can do is follow the flow of this pause and open your heart to whatever it is you need right now so it has space to surface. |
This takes time.
Then when you’re getting used to just being and breathing slowly you realise you can come up for air. You wonder why you didn’t see that sea all around doesn’t mean you’re lost but holds a possibility of shores to arrive at. You may not know where you’re going but you know who you are and decide to be there. |
Wonder
Wonder is a curious place
where you can go
without a map
to lose yourself and find
a sudden beam of sunlight
touching the flowers in their vase
a cloud shaped like a sculptor
is using the sky as studio.
This place needs no guide
but open-hearted roaming
so when you turn the radio on
you hear Vivaldi
saying that everything
will be alright in some way
or another.
Wonder is the generous space
where questions gently thrive;
you’ll like it here if you can find
delight in how the door, ajar
lets in ideas that take you
by surprise.
where you can go
without a map
to lose yourself and find
a sudden beam of sunlight
touching the flowers in their vase
a cloud shaped like a sculptor
is using the sky as studio.
This place needs no guide
but open-hearted roaming
so when you turn the radio on
you hear Vivaldi
saying that everything
will be alright in some way
or another.
Wonder is the generous space
where questions gently thrive;
you’ll like it here if you can find
delight in how the door, ajar
lets in ideas that take you
by surprise.
Alignment of temperament
The sudden joy of walking
arm in arm with a new friend who shares
your delight in music, books, views on women
in the world
is filled with possibility and leaves you
vulnerable too.
An appreciation of joint enthusiasms is followed
by a charge of connection, the lightness and
promise of meeting minds. You’re sharing music
ideas collide
merge into new ones, more interesting
and vital.
The unexpected pleasure of feeling close
to someone new, so recently a stranger who
brings a new language and generously joins
your circle
raises questions about the essence of
being human.
How is it possible this woman wasn’t in your world
before? Who are you going to be
for each other? The alignment of temperament
is essential
and requires imagination to accommodate
in your life.
arm in arm with a new friend who shares
your delight in music, books, views on women
in the world
is filled with possibility and leaves you
vulnerable too.
An appreciation of joint enthusiasms is followed
by a charge of connection, the lightness and
promise of meeting minds. You’re sharing music
ideas collide
merge into new ones, more interesting
and vital.
The unexpected pleasure of feeling close
to someone new, so recently a stranger who
brings a new language and generously joins
your circle
raises questions about the essence of
being human.
How is it possible this woman wasn’t in your world
before? Who are you going to be
for each other? The alignment of temperament
is essential
and requires imagination to accommodate
in your life.
Some music does this
I
How is it that some music
gets under my skin
and touches old primeval parts
from before I became
me before awareness or language?
Opening rooms full of doubt
resonating and slowly
dislodging what I held close
for so long it feels part of
me the fear the expectation
of rejection.
Some music moves me
to where I can just grasp a subtle truth
of shared space and time.
I listen and connect without wanting
to an understanding, casual and complete
that in the end - and the beginning
we all belong without permission
that the human club needs no one
to confirm membership but myself.
II
How is it that some music
reaches into my heart
and disturbs dreams hidden
under years of reality and risk-avoidance?
Finding a crack, letting energy in
rekindling a shimmering curiosity
and longing for adventure
I listen and sense unexpectedly
the possibilities, lucid and luminous
of living - even after all these years
with the questions and courage
that make meaning.
III
How is it that some music
is not seen for the potent force
it is, with catalytic qualities
of making feelings heard?
The unfettered fluttering of joy
the stinging in my nose before tears
the sense of expansion in my chest
when I listen and know who
we are to each other and ourselves.
Some music can make you feel so right
at ease with whatever happens
now, here, that it hurts
when it stops
demanding a continuation
into the margins of life where
all change happens.
How is it that some music
gets under my skin
and touches old primeval parts
from before I became
me before awareness or language?
Opening rooms full of doubt
resonating and slowly
dislodging what I held close
for so long it feels part of
me the fear the expectation
of rejection.
Some music moves me
to where I can just grasp a subtle truth
of shared space and time.
I listen and connect without wanting
to an understanding, casual and complete
that in the end - and the beginning
we all belong without permission
that the human club needs no one
to confirm membership but myself.
II
How is it that some music
reaches into my heart
and disturbs dreams hidden
under years of reality and risk-avoidance?
Finding a crack, letting energy in
rekindling a shimmering curiosity
and longing for adventure
I listen and sense unexpectedly
the possibilities, lucid and luminous
of living - even after all these years
with the questions and courage
that make meaning.
III
How is it that some music
is not seen for the potent force
it is, with catalytic qualities
of making feelings heard?
The unfettered fluttering of joy
the stinging in my nose before tears
the sense of expansion in my chest
when I listen and know who
we are to each other and ourselves.
Some music can make you feel so right
at ease with whatever happens
now, here, that it hurts
when it stops
demanding a continuation
into the margins of life where
all change happens.
The dog
The dog stretched her long black body out into the day. No expectations, ready to enjoy whatever would come her way. Food would be a good thing to start with. And then a long walk - the beach maybe? That little brown dachshund was there most days, he was great to play with. There really was much to commend this life, she thought. She was glad she'd come back as her own dog.
Mass in C minor
The music soars tonight
in all its Lutheran precision;
mathematical variations of life
full of the things that make you
look up to the sky and sigh and
feel the sea inside.
A higher being may be what Bach
felt when he wrote this, but
without one his work works too
making me feel connected and whole
and right despite whatever crisis
hits the world, despite life
as it is, despite
everything.
in all its Lutheran precision;
mathematical variations of life
full of the things that make you
look up to the sky and sigh and
feel the sea inside.
A higher being may be what Bach
felt when he wrote this, but
without one his work works too
making me feel connected and whole
and right despite whatever crisis
hits the world, despite life
as it is, despite
everything.
Unwritten poems
So many thoughts are never thought
beyond a fleeting notion; scores of feelings
left without a shape.
There is an ocean of untouched ideas
which float and drift wherever
fate or fancy takes them.
Dark blue and filled with sadness
or with a tingling core, a feathery edge.
Never solidified in words, some hold
the possibility to be carried by a current
to the surface and articulate their sense.
But most sink without fanfare to the bottom
of my mind until I know what I will say.
beyond a fleeting notion; scores of feelings
left without a shape.
There is an ocean of untouched ideas
which float and drift wherever
fate or fancy takes them.
Dark blue and filled with sadness
or with a tingling core, a feathery edge.
Never solidified in words, some hold
the possibility to be carried by a current
to the surface and articulate their sense.
But most sink without fanfare to the bottom
of my mind until I know what I will say.
Dare
It had to happen
at some stage
I was going to
assert myself and
someone
would be shocked
or angry. Go fuck yourself
is not calm or subtle
but straight
from the hurt and
anger at self-satisfied
interference. So much
easier to stand up
for someone you love
than be sad in silence,
like all the times I was
upset for me. And
like then only avoidance
of connection
as if nothing happened.
at some stage
I was going to
assert myself and
someone
would be shocked
or angry. Go fuck yourself
is not calm or subtle
but straight
from the hurt and
anger at self-satisfied
interference. So much
easier to stand up
for someone you love
than be sad in silence,
like all the times I was
upset for me. And
like then only avoidance
of connection
as if nothing happened.
'The Bus'
I wonder how to think in this new space
we have created of conversation without aim
but stringing sentences together, using thoughts
like beads on hippie necklaces. Five passengers,
no driver and all of us in charge. When you say
Star Trek is your favourite I feel ideas light up
with unbound energy.
This bus is on a journey of diversions,
our luggage lies forgotten while we’re laughing
until I trip over the bit under my seat.
We’re going neither here nor there
but feel this heightened sense of possibility
when following then swiftly overtaking
our reflections flirting linking wisdom
and experience with whimsy.
You ask how do we actually get off?
Not that I want to yet but this much
harmony needs disruption
to suit my soul.
we have created of conversation without aim
but stringing sentences together, using thoughts
like beads on hippie necklaces. Five passengers,
no driver and all of us in charge. When you say
Star Trek is your favourite I feel ideas light up
with unbound energy.
This bus is on a journey of diversions,
our luggage lies forgotten while we’re laughing
until I trip over the bit under my seat.
We’re going neither here nor there
but feel this heightened sense of possibility
when following then swiftly overtaking
our reflections flirting linking wisdom
and experience with whimsy.
You ask how do we actually get off?
Not that I want to yet but this much
harmony needs disruption
to suit my soul.
Sleepless
I move my thoughts around
like furniture
to the edges of my head
as if preparing for a party
where many are expected
and dancing may occur.
The empty space is filling up
with other chairs a rug maybe
certainly with people who I ask
to tell their story again
and again.
But thoughts have a way
of moving to where they may belong
but are not wanted. Who decides
what happens in my head
when sleep doesn’t?
like furniture
to the edges of my head
as if preparing for a party
where many are expected
and dancing may occur.
The empty space is filling up
with other chairs a rug maybe
certainly with people who I ask
to tell their story again
and again.
But thoughts have a way
of moving to where they may belong
but are not wanted. Who decides
what happens in my head
when sleep doesn’t?
Old dog
The old dog growls in the corner
lifts her head distractedly and lets a wandering eye
almost fall on me.
Lingering close I can just turn my back and
let this spell of sadness pass.
I hope that humming softly will distract.
I slink out of sight, pretending nonchalance, never
did I so deftly move under my breath
towards the lighter rooms, keeping the beast
securely wished away.
Upstairs the sun and moon are playing
a duet through opposite windows.
lifts her head distractedly and lets a wandering eye
almost fall on me.
Lingering close I can just turn my back and
let this spell of sadness pass.
I hope that humming softly will distract.
I slink out of sight, pretending nonchalance, never
did I so deftly move under my breath
towards the lighter rooms, keeping the beast
securely wished away.
Upstairs the sun and moon are playing
a duet through opposite windows.
Life
after Sybille Bedford
I wish sometimes that rain
would wash away the rehearsals;
to start again, undo the versions
where I thought
the curtain wasn't up.
This being the only performance
of life I'd better pay attention.
Translate the wonderment into something
to share.
would wash away the rehearsals;
to start again, undo the versions
where I thought
the curtain wasn't up.
This being the only performance
of life I'd better pay attention.
Translate the wonderment into something
to share.
Love circles
Love seems to look like circles, two mostly,
connecting one tentative boundary with the other or
overlapping to varying degrees.
What does this say about us?
sometimes quite apart but together, noisily
cranky even, like two magnets pushing each other
away in the same space.
Do they move these circles, a slow rotation
maybe more randomly, like pin-balls
Anatomical references abound - breasts, bums, balls.
Something smooth I suppose, eternal and contained
even though love is spiky and hard at times
What if we were to make a hole in the whole
and let reality into the self-regarding circle?
connecting one tentative boundary with the other or
overlapping to varying degrees.
What does this say about us?
sometimes quite apart but together, noisily
cranky even, like two magnets pushing each other
away in the same space.
Do they move these circles, a slow rotation
maybe more randomly, like pin-balls
Anatomical references abound - breasts, bums, balls.
Something smooth I suppose, eternal and contained
even though love is spiky and hard at times
What if we were to make a hole in the whole
and let reality into the self-regarding circle?
At night
Some days I wake up
in the middle of the night
and before I know it
my head is invaded by thoughts
of the worst that can happen.
Repetitive shreds, fractions reflecting
themselves, resistant to replacement
by counting stars and animals.
I turn on the light to enlist a book
in the chase of dark thoughts,
or pen and paper to write this
now that we know
screens only trick us into day.
in the middle of the night
and before I know it
my head is invaded by thoughts
of the worst that can happen.
Repetitive shreds, fractions reflecting
themselves, resistant to replacement
by counting stars and animals.
I turn on the light to enlist a book
in the chase of dark thoughts,
or pen and paper to write this
now that we know
screens only trick us into day.
Sunday
Chamber music streams through
coffee and cake with family
when will we do something?
Rain disturbs the summer sense
of possibility and light
Time for aimless
newspaper, Tour de France, museum?
A call per tablet with the Dutch
a poor connection, they seem
tired and not inclined to inquire
after anything not affecting them.
Two seas reflecting
distance felt.
Dinner brings full circle this
day of rest.
coffee and cake with family
when will we do something?
Rain disturbs the summer sense
of possibility and light
Time for aimless
newspaper, Tour de France, museum?
A call per tablet with the Dutch
a poor connection, they seem
tired and not inclined to inquire
after anything not affecting them.
Two seas reflecting
distance felt.
Dinner brings full circle this
day of rest.
Lough Derg
Dinner was an animated affair,
four women disagreeing about the merits
of Lough Derg. Just one of us had made the journey
years ago - expressing interest in returning
for barefoot distance from connections and
work demands. Reliance on
individual stamina and insights
hunger for fast-induced enlightenment.
Two of us more than skeptical about it all
while I found myself drawn to experience
it for myself. Loud wonderment and
my own lack of explanation fueled conversation.
Incredulous as atheist what asthetic attraction -
even though shoes won't hinder the experience
surely. I suspect alcohol encouraged fervour, but
even now I would like to try.
four women disagreeing about the merits
of Lough Derg. Just one of us had made the journey
years ago - expressing interest in returning
for barefoot distance from connections and
work demands. Reliance on
individual stamina and insights
hunger for fast-induced enlightenment.
Two of us more than skeptical about it all
while I found myself drawn to experience
it for myself. Loud wonderment and
my own lack of explanation fueled conversation.
Incredulous as atheist what asthetic attraction -
even though shoes won't hinder the experience
surely. I suspect alcohol encouraged fervour, but
even now I would like to try.
Water
Love is like water
necessary and constantly
changing, flowing
full and fast some days
exciting senses
or wonderfully slow
like being together
for many years and still
wanting more
love is like that
transparent while hiding
depths close
and personal.
necessary and constantly
changing, flowing
full and fast some days
exciting senses
or wonderfully slow
like being together
for many years and still
wanting more
love is like that
transparent while hiding
depths close
and personal.
Jeu de Sanary
Sanary sparkles with mediterranean warmth ,
yellow dappling and salty smells; sensory
overload delights.
Sipping my coffee in La Marine I watch
as an old lady with that peculiar French accessory,
the tiny dog appears.
She hesitates and tilts her head while looking
at the blown-up photographs on the boulevard
a smile curls around her lips -
a short-skirted girl releases her boule flanked
by a row of staring men, arms crossed -
has she remembered?
yellow dappling and salty smells; sensory
overload delights.
Sipping my coffee in La Marine I watch
as an old lady with that peculiar French accessory,
the tiny dog appears.
She hesitates and tilts her head while looking
at the blown-up photographs on the boulevard
a smile curls around her lips -
a short-skirted girl releases her boule flanked
by a row of staring men, arms crossed -
has she remembered?