Poems

I Am That I Am

Suburbia burns silentlyWhite candles burst inChoreographed conflagrationGraceful limbs engulfed inFleeting crowns of pastel flameAblaze yet not consumed Sophisticated minds swear blindSuch subtle orchestrations are butSkittering showers of sparksAccidentals struck loose by theWild, chaotic wheels ofDogged chance But is it so? Are we determined byMechanical necessitySome poverty of spirit toImpute poetic grace sublimeEach painstaking designTo mute, …

Shortest Day

The year is on the ebb The pendulum is low All is in retreat A few last leaves hang Unloosed by snatching gales Limp as sodden leather  Languishing lifelessly Allies of dead summer Flapping on the gibbet To set an example   The once-emboldened sun Slides dreary through the motions Shuffling low in bleary skies …

My Way

[“My Way” is by some margin the nation’s favourite funeral song. Yet the rank individualism, as old as Eden, which typifies our age, cannot save any of us from the end which awaits all of us. The dreary crematorium chapel scorns our attempts at self actualisation – we all go behind the dusty curtain in …

Ripeness Is All

Icarus, Without the fated plunge, Is but a dreary grey-haired parable, Pragmatic unremarkable commute, Recklessness is crucial,  The brazen rise to kiss Apollo, Weaves the gossamer of myth;   In flushed freewheel of youth, Vital abandon strains,  Frothing fervid at the bit,  How easy to hold living light, While dew lies wet on years, Lightning racks the fertile mind, Thunder echoes …

Hibernation

Autumn exhaled her last A breath of swallows  Sighed upon the south  Before cold rags stopped up her mouth And cannon cracks of frost Felled the stragglers    The low slung sun Now barely grazes poplars on the hill  Cold light pressed low in furrows Glances from the sodden soil  Frost maps out long shadows Moored …

Untethering

“God is dead” they said Spoke nothing of the yawning blackThe dizzy plunge of orbit lostDischordant bass beneath the melody    And yes we dress the vacancy  Gaudy streamers festoon ruins Multicoloured bunting gaily flaps  On pediments now tilted on the sand   Few revellers peer in hollowed hearts To glimpse via cracks in blasted …