stonepoem : 365

I am running out of words
like an angler on the bank,
trying every lure and bait
to cast and pull you in.
Stood on trampled ground,
where full of net has been
and scratching furrowed
brow to second guess the
wind.

I see bob and weave below
the surface of the pond,
spying ripples on the turn,
and the places they begin.
But there’s no rise of water,
or breaking in the spray.
So now I leave this seek and
strive for paddled shadows
of your fin.

Ah well, if not this evening,
I can wait for another time.
A new approach, a subtler style
and I may yet haul you in.

Some days,
it’s just great
to tilt your head and
let the thoughts drop out.
Listening to the hollow
thud of your own ideas,
tumbling aimless to
the floor. It’s nice
to contemplate the joy
of mindlessness, befuddled
for awhile in a break from
knowing. Every now and then,
taking time out to let all
puddles of intellect drain
from the dome of your mind,
just so you can floss inside.
Embrace the vacumned logic
of perfect dumbness and taste the
sweet soma of its purity. It’s OK!
There’s something wise to be
learned in the beautiful blankness,
and somnolent stupor - the timeless
cleanhanded truth of saying;
‘I just don’t know’.

You

ask about

relationships,

of what or whom

we are, but all I’ll say

of this, is that there is

only ever one. I reveled in

the promiscuity of multitude

enthralled, but always lonely

though, until you captured me

in fall. Know that I love you

- all of you. And ask again

of us, and maybe I will

call that none is lost

and all is found.

For there is

only ever

you
.

Be by my side for seasons roll
astride the years of timeworn hold
you are the handmade measure of my way
moth eared wise but sometimes frayed.

Threadbare in the dogged scuff of life,
your comforts molded from familiarity
are the very things that calm and settle me
through step of many weathered days.

Our strong stitched path across these years
has formed the jagged shape and fold
of how we cleave this journey made.
For we are old companions in the ride.

From the footprints of where we’ve been
through the stumble of the here and now,
to the strides of what we may become,
my feet are chained without you.

It’s open,
come straight in.
I’m behind the threshold,
waiting for you to fall upon
the fate of who we should be.
Bring nothing but yourself
and I will gaze in sublime hold
of white light beauty and
the ocean of your eyes.
There is only one flame I see
in the dark - and it is yours.
Take a step and come inside.
I am waiting
for you.

I saw the red steam rising
and thought of ways to circumvent
the climbing vapour of your despise.
A means to stop the angry mist
from settling on unlucky souls
like acrid, airborne aerosol.
But shoots of spray stay powerful
no pressure drop - or cause to stop
when flow is locked and discharge blocked.
You need to learn, to slowly turn
and open up the valve.

Goodbye Supergeek,
you have lost your domain
but long may your downhill logic
stay dudish in its bank and curve.
White collared, polite in line
where T-shirts once yelled loud,
may you surf across the brown stuff,
steady in the slalom of the day.
As an afro king, in climb and dive
the chocolate wristed compromise
and breaks of comfort’s creed,
are not for those like you.
Your Ninja wheels crave more
than a two foot curbstone ride -
but Kung Fu cool stays strong,
thrilled in jump - however high.
So long may you somersault
through the pinstripe hoops
and air conditioned flames,
leaping mundane ground
of office ramp and rail.
For you, are Supergeek!
and your magnet feats of awe,
draw raptuous applause.

Now you’ve planted flowers
you’ll have to watch them grow.
Earthbound spirits in the border
of patient ground, sown in craving
sun with gentle rain to nurture.

Nature’s growing pains find solace
in your care of wonder’s veins
and shoots of tenacious youth,
audacious too, find climb to bloom
through cold wax clay.

So tend loam and budding spears
pierce winter’s call to arms of time.
Watch over the flowers that you grow,
energised by noble reaching limbs
together - in beauty’s rise.

Ah, what fascination!