Everything good is play: everything creative is play
How I miss my playmate and brother P. And my sister also.
Still I remember our adventures
And I remember our risky games
When our senses are full of vitality and our minds are full of new ideas then life is full like a ripe apple.
I have eaten of the apple
And I am glad
As poetry itself can’t earn me fl cash
Ill live on sausage meat and buttery mash
I’ll have to take cocaine to get some words
A sentence here and there, a paper charred
What would happen if the poets went on strike
And got some other work from their old bikes
Then there’d be a flatness to our talk
. No more would our words dance, they’d have to walk.
What kind of work could an old poet obtain ?
Could I be a scarecrow in the rain?
Could I be a nurse and help the sick
I could study clocks,how do they tick?
Yet all I have that is unique to me
Is my own words that flow,the silver sea
And in the sea of words we float with joy
Do not drown but give your words employ
Even were it crime to play with words
The sound of a new rhyme coulf still occur.
What are the words that form our dialogue
Merry bright and free thermse are my drug
It’s Autumn weather, geese fly by;
Autumn rust,red,gold,so gay. Drystone walls edging fields, Apples gathered,holly berries Flash so brightly Look like flowers Sun shines sideways,shadows long Of trees appear I dwell among Woods of gentle beeches sing Swaying with the sideward wind. See their roots, all intertwined. Feel their geometry in the mind. Look up now into the sky, See the V formation high. Geese fly home at end of day. My heart is moved by patterned dance In this peace and great silence My mind widens like the sky And in this moment I would die, So I would stay with this still vision Of geese set out on autumn mission. Snails in rain pools slither near My feet upon the terrace here And look,upon their whorled backs All the sense of life is packed. And yet so easily Life’s destroyed, When blind foot steps into the void.
Leaves fly off so suddenly
Small birds float on the wind
Like boats astride a choppy sea.
Their swaying soothes my mind.
Wild geese fly past at dusk again,
They head towards the North.
The holly berries glow in sun,
Nature gives all birth.
I gaze intently at the sky,
The clouds hang dark and low.
If I too were a mere wild goose
I’d know which way to go
But I am left with only words
To find my destination.
Yet words do carry down to us
Wisdom of generations
We use old words in unique ways.
We structure them to form
A new design not seen before
A new sentence is born
I send my words with love to you
I hope you safely catch them.
Give me answers from your heart
And I’ll do my best to match them
The myriad random movements, words and signs
Inanimate, cold blooded,hot or warm
In mystery make the world, complete, designed
From the stars at night, to needles’ eyes
Every size is present eye to horn
The myriad random movements, words and signs
Yet, not robotic, shivering, alive
Like a human baby when new born
In mystery the world is fresh, designed
So every morning we awake surprised
The dreams we had afflict us like flung stones
The random movements, words and latent signs
Are dreams the truth or can the unknown lie?
Are we subject to their nightly roams?
The mystery is the world makes its designs
As the wild geese land at one in storms
The murmurations of the starlings charm
The myriad random movements, words and signs
In mystery make the world, replete,divine
Everything is still and silent are the birds
The river does not murmur as the geese alight
What of this to capture in my little words
For darkness will come early stealing our eyesight.
Oh,Alfred,my beloved,do not go
Do not leave, but warmth to me bestow,
Lie beside me in my bed all night
Succour me when stormy dreams affright.
Oh,Alfred,-’tis your eyes that turn me on
The green and golden light is never gone.
Affection constant, touch and feeling shared.
I am not embarrassed when you stare.
For you , the gallant male, have often seen
My naked form well lit by Jove’s sunbeams
And if I wear a gown of wincyette
You love it as it’s nice for paws of cat.
Alfred ,we can’t marry yet I fear.
Cats can’t read the Book of Common Prayer.
How my heart sings 