To Brian

May 3, 2018 at 11:01 am (Poems) (, , , , , , )

I’m so sorry I betrayed you tonight,
Left you stranded in the wilderness
Whilst I admired the new love I found
A tad less tarnished, with additional features glimmering.
I feel your disappointment- tangible, justifiable,
Your destiny is in my hands.

Remember when we met? I shook hands
with the man and said “I will take him tonight”,
The pleasure I felt made the cost justifiable,
And together we drove to our home in the wilderness
to enjoy simple times, love of life glimmering,
impatient and hungry for all we found?

I wonder, when you leave, whether you will have found
a stronger, more able pair of hands
to restore you to your former glimmering,
I will make you comfortable for tonight,
in the familiar wilderness,
and hope you are consoled, your hurt justifiable.

It might be some little while before you forgive me,
for discarding the familiarity we found,
leaving us both in a new wilderness,
One last journey, and the future not in our hands.
I wonder if you will want to see me tonight?
whilst my heart beat is quickened, my eyes glimmering .

Maybe when you are in a good place – glimmering,
you will reflect on this and find it justifiable,
and you will remember the good times. But tonight,
do not try to understand the new love I have found,
Tonight, I am Judas, Ephialtes, blood on my hands,
Next to you in the wilderness.

One more night in our shared wilderness
your faded colour faintly glimmering,
I reach out and touch your warm body with my hands,
If you pulled away it would be justifiable.
More than thirty years of service and tears are all you’ve found,
but know in your soul, I still love you tonight.

Two old hands in the wilderness
where tonight your lights are glimmering,
Justifiable sadness, but a new beginning , and new love to be found.


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Forest

July 24, 2013 at 7:16 am (literature, philosophy, poetry, sociology, Stories) (, , , , , , , )

Stepped from our travelling van, we
cast a blanket on the ground
beneath the spindled sessile branch.

Submerged in ferns, we watch play
lichened, long limbed nymphs,
aloft our chosen healing tree.

And as the early sun strokes
offered oak leaf palms,
stale poisons tapped, sap from us.

See how our grim forest buckles,
and melting into wilderness
we become our greater selves.

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Ti amo

May 21, 2013 at 12:15 am (literature, Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , , , , )

I’m so sorry I can’t be with you tonight
high in an Italian mountain wilderness
sipping red wine from glasses we found
in the dimly lit kitchen where we simmered
al dente spaghetti on a single electric ring
and licked the salt of olives from our hands.

Remember the first time? Holding hands
in the room where you are alone tonight;
warming our hands on the same electric ring
and listening to the sounds of the wilderness
as we enjoyed simple dishes, simmering
spaghetti, impatient and hungry for all we found?

I wonder, when you arrived, whether you found
the bed linen I washed with my hands
in the room next to the spaghetti simmering,
and made up the bed, comfortable for tonight,
safe from the strange mountain wilderness,
comforted by bolognese cooked on that single ring.

It might be some little while before you ring,
an hour’s difference disrupting rhythms, we found,
leaving us each dancing in our own wilderness,
unused to having so much space and time on our hands.
I wonder if you will want to talk much tonight?
after a day in the sun, bed made, spaghetti simmering.

Tomorrow, when you are properly settled, simmering
gently in the warmth of the medieval stones, ring
and we’ll swap stories; perhaps leave it tonight,
giving you time to reflect on whatever you have found,
gemstones and kernels to share, held in your hands
like a prayer in the Italian mountain wilderness.

By now you will be sleeping, unfamiliar wilderness
of Italian dream-scapes shifting and simmering,
heat taking leave of mountain stones, dear hands
perhaps reaching for mine, wanting to be held, ring
me in the morning, and tell me what you found,
but know in your heart, I am with you tonight.

Two dear hands in the wilderness
where tonight dreams are simmering,
ring in the morning, to tell me what you found.

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