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Posts Tagged ‘bereavement’

Conversations with Invisible Friends (4)

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 8, 2013| 2 Comments »

Conversations with invisible friends(4). Herewith, before they get overlain with other things, another collection of bits and bobs inspired by the blog posts of others. For which I am very grateful….

BIG ROCK

Warm sun
And the dance of laughter,
Sinking deep.

(The weight of stone
Is its memory
Of moving things).

—-

MOTE

Speculation,
moving specks:
what is in my eye,
I see.
It may be clarity,
or clouded vision.
A message
or misinterpretation.

—-

ORIGAMI POEM

Fold mind
Fold sound
Find word
Sharp lines
Open, closed
Tip of tongue
Held between lips
This way
Then that way
Frozen form flows
Into paper.

—-

SOUND ANALYSIS

Great folds of rock!
A lovely beach of curled words
and washed reaches.
What is not “supplement”?
(such a French word
made clunky 3:4 ,
almost an engine jive
with a touch of 4:4
(that gear change between ‘n’ and ‘t’,
a secret hidden pause as the mouth adjusts).
Mouth music.

—

OLD PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPH

Black and white
frozen light.

Eternalising
the inconsequent
moment.

LKeeping the fleeting
flicker of instants.

Remembering how easy
it is to forget.

Stealing souls or
letting them live
forever?

—–

WAITING ROOM (FUGUE)

When the real
Pushes hard
We slip shattered
Holding still.

Stretched
Transparent, even,
Beyond help
(though never really).

Timeless
Between events
Distanced, grey,
Ghosted hollow by
Too many endings.

Sloughing skins.
Abandoning identities
That fail
(as if they were ever
Sure or sound).

Uncertain of echoes..
–
Tracing grey worlds
Mapping consequences
Of beginning and ending.

Sloughing identity,
Ghosted hollow…
–
When the real
Pushes hard
We slip shattered
Holding still.

Stretched
Transparent, even,
Beyond help
(though never really)
Sloughing identity,
Ghosted hollow.

Somewhere
Weeping.

—

CELLULAR

It is cellular,
how the body grieves,
despite tutting mind,
bright-rouged beliefs.
It is the bones,
the guts,
mycelial nerves.
The hymn of cells,
eternal charnel and chantry,
never expecting anything
other than to pass on,
to pass on,
to cancel,
to forget,
to never forget.

—

ETERNAL EPHEMERA

How still
The lashes of your eyes
Searching words
How still

How long
The slow rise of your breath
Searching peace
How long

How fine
The enamelled morning
Blue, shadowed
How fine

How light
The dive of swallows
above buttercup shine
How light

How still, how long
How fine, how light,
This filigree life
Floating skywards

—-

SPILT LIGHT

Crackled clear
not yet broken.
Hold on or let go.
You will not be forgotten.

—-

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Seventh Movement: Never Gone

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on May 28, 2013| Leave a Comment »

JAPANESE SYMPHONY: 7th MOVEMENT, ‘NEVER GONE’

i shall tell you something,
i shall whisper it:

she is not gone.

that echoed voice,
that memory:
her touch still
as it flows by.
that sudden bloom of feeling:
the turn of her love
towards you.

unlocked from time
we inhabit all our moments,
all our dearest places.

free of this small gravity
radiant as sun and moon
unburdened by horizons,
shade or shadow.

ever in each past,
each future, each present.
become bed and mother
of all indwelling,
scented on every breeze,
blossoming and blossoming
and blossoming eternal.

each pulse is hers, each step,
each tear, each smile.

she is not gone.
we are not gone.
closer than heartbeats,
closer than breath,
the air and whisper of existence,
(as we ever were,
as you ever are).

for but a tragic instant
hedged and deluded,
sweet prison of expression:
a whisper before it leaves the mouth,
before it finds a home.

we should sit down
and weep,
speak of nothing else
but silence,
nothing but the moments.

she is returned
blessing all things
with memories,
with joys and pains,
all the sharp is-ness
of bodies.
jewels to pass down,
fuel for futures.

—

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Japanese Symphony (2nd movement)

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on May 24, 2013| 2 Comments »

2. TO THE EDGES OF EMPTINESS

the thunder of departing
Doppler skies.
the descending chant
of iron birds.

—

when those eyes
disappear,
when that voice
can no longer be heard,
(though deep inside every second
of every hour, like the scent
of something lost,
familiar from childhood)
our edges blur,
focus becomes irrelevant.
we become the lost,
the fading,
unaware of
where we are and were.

formed, framed each day
by that voice, that look, that smile.
its absence a gaping hole,
heart, soul and stars rush through
to unanaesthetised emptiness.
diminished by each second of absence
emptying into that space
where your scent and memory lingers
for a moment, still.
—

so, you have gone,
and taken,too, the one real world
along with you.
leaving a changeling, a perfect simulacrum,
devoid of feeling.
a mechanical resemblance,
a world as if nothing
had changed: sunlight,
laughter, time moving.
even the finest detail,
ants, dust motes, petals,
all hollow, purposeless.

—
temple precinct
by the incense bowl
two old ladies wafting smoke
to all their aching joints, aching bones,
laughing.

—

flopping amongst green shadows
black crow hunting for food.
cries from bright tree tops

—

old man dozing
clouds of incense
priest’s voice chanting

—-

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A Loom, A Stitch Lost

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on January 30, 2013| Leave a Comment »

A LOOM, A STITCH LOST

Each time
I read the words
Of Angus
The paths
Of my brain
Meet the dance
Of my tongue
A taste
Of delight,
Sound sculpted
In silence
A dance,
A dance,
An expulsion
Of gestures
A condensation
Of landscapes
A world
Falling
Out of solution
Like diamond
Clear
Crystals.

And my own
Weave
Emerges,
Upon
My own loom,
Shuttles fly:

Today
One more stitch
Lost
From the cloth
Of this life.
One more certainty
Dissolved,
One life
Lost:
Memory only
Clinging on:
Fingers of
What if
Fingers of
Maybe.

With sleep,
Letting go.
The wind outside,
The rain
The hail
Demarcating
In turn
Each four walls
Of this uncertain house,
Home yet
For a while

And then
The journey onward
The journey unknown
Together
Or alone
Drifting
In slow shoals
Forgetting
Our names,
Wind borne
Water borne
Sighing
Starwards.

star lines7

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