stonepoem : 365

With kindly arms, layered in cold
a child scatters bread across water folds.
His arch of energy watched skirmishly
through broken reed-bed end of summer’s hold.
He knows; here they lie, the open-mouthed
battle weary hopes that ache for different tales,
meniscus stirred by ripples in the distant manifold.

To be the first to gather from happenstance
to forget the dragging ballast of concern,
to be ahead in the race to grow untethered.
This is what is craved a thousandfold.

From a distance, the amused child looks on
enjoying the animated turbulence,
thrilled with these ripples of influence.
Watching, wanting, willing -
inquisitive in his scatter.
He urges on this swim of souls
and sees the weakest being bold.

I am just
a plain being.
Not equipped
for complication,
carving driftwood thoughts
not swords for battle cry.
Yet still I sense
the driving spurs
and quickening urged -
the gilded goads,
of knowing
you.

Sore thumbs
devoutly uncool
otherwise voiceless
radio ghost.
Who else
melts the years?
Ordinary bloke
voice of a lifetime
touchstoned
sound champion.
33 at 45rpm,
fluid grace and hope
for grumpy old.
I will miss you,
Uncle John.

(Dedicated to John Peel)

I’m gonna do it.
This thing I’ve been diverting from.
No more sidestepping the situation
Or jumping desert sweat on hotplate rock
Or leaving fly-spun fruit in crusted brook.
This has simmered away in hope, for long enough.
Like pressured steam from the very vent of me -
Excuses, promises, commitment - all lost in the boil
The condensed atoms of ‘if’ and ‘but’ -
Like rolling mist, clinging,
To a mountainside.

We sleep and live in boxes,
drive to work in cubes on wheels
then we settle in our cubicles
and stare at cornered squares.

THIS space is not contained.

This is temporary
of little consequence
a small thing
minor in relevance
a stop-gap thought.
Inconsequential,
indeterminate,
unimportant.
Please ignore.

My meltwax grin is all
I have to share tonight
about the situation I am in.
Me, leaning forward - shrugging
in gallow grimace hold,
before the tightened fate
of our humanity.

I know too well,
this scaffold smile, holding
optimism’s flame up high.
A fading beacon in the gloom,
like dusk kite in the crow of night,
or slowing twist of last leaf fall.
This is all I want to say.

These
      are
           the
                many
                     standing
                           parallel
                                    like
                                snakepine
                              bones
                           or
                        druid
                      stones
                       in
                         landslip
                                 line
                                    these
                                             are
                                                   the
                                                  sleepers
                                                      laid
                                                with
                                          fingers
                                    like
                              matchstick
                        burns
                  and
            dry-clench
                  knots
           in
      twisted
twine
      these
            are
                  they
                          that
                               mark
                                    the
                                          complex
                                                track
                                                   that
                                                   shape
                                                   the
                                               pensive
                                            oxbow
                                         slack
                                    so
                              stand
                           and
                            contemplate
                               the
                                    end
                                       so
                                         push
                                       away
                                         the
                                            first
                                                 to
                                                   learn;
                                                 there
                                            are
                                         many
                                             many
                                                 folds
                                                      to
                                                               you
                                                               and
                                                               I.