this is no rolling sea
for even the ocean
has substance
in both calm and fury,
yet these intangible waves
reveal not the whims
they cast upon
the depths below.
We submit, to what darkness?
of a grey unknown?
and leave this purest blue
for the gods alone
the rains of April fell in May
washing all the doubts away
that sterile dawns and barren eves
had my thirsting soul believe
for without rain where do thoughts run
from constant shadows of the sun
their travails go round and round
and lift not from the dusty ground
but storms are rich and fertile things
thus inspiration they may bring
in leaping, lashing waterfalls
no wonder that the rainclouds call
to me in the spring’s refrains
thus blessed be the May that rains.
oh ambiguity
thy name be darkness
love maker
dream shaker
life taker
goodness saker
shadow breaker
senses faker
passion waker
the light?
well it can’t hold a candle to you.
I’ve sung these notes before
a thousand different ways
but the music hasn’t moved me
as it did today
It is not quite a different song
nor is the rhythm new
perhaps the melody was wrong
until I sang for you.
we sang our songs under the hill
and drank until the sun had died
it was to us as sacred soil
our youthful dreams in its ground lie
we kissed our first under this hill
and battled inexperience
loved in the shadows of its mill
unfettered by impermanence
to this day when thoughts retreat
and regrets cloud them with their sighs
to spring shadows now defeated
by time’s hand, at our Thermopylae
that my nights are filled with thee
the darkness holds no fears for me
for I can dream of two bright stars
set together in infinity.
in solitude at day’s end
alone upon some windswept shore
I think of tomorrows left to me
and yesterdays I’ll see no more
but in this moment with the sea
lost in commune with the tides
it reminds me in their ebbs and flows
how past and futures must collide.
she held a seashell to her ear
to travel back and time replay
the only sound though she could hear
was time itself slip soft away
in life’s blood running through her veins
echoed beats of entropy
merciless that faint refrain
the ebbing of mortality.
only the finest feathers
blood red and full of fire
could a worthy mantle make
her body to attire
and in these crimson vestments
she stepped into my thoughts
seductive dark a mystery
my imaginings to court
then her words did beckon me
words garbed in unknown tongues
like ancient wisdom’d poetry
her bidding songs were sung
and on her music was I lost
as to a siren’s call
that no matter what the cost
to her my soul would fall
thus from her splendour she disrobed
and on her form I dwelled
could not temptation’s mind decide
be this paradise or hell.
let passions be my rosary
my fingers counting devotions
upon beads of longing’s prayer
and desire be communion
the blessed sacred yearnings
whereon my fealty to swear
the blighters rock 