Commuters

Misty-eyed chronicles

glide by-

the lines written on their faces.

Relative to all and nothing,

their gazes glaze glowing stations:

a paper falls and tumbles

twisted by underground rumbles

and mumbles of eternal shufflers

in a rat-race chase where speed

and haste choose the transportation

of the quickest; opening doors,

Destination reached –  Escape – Release –

Breathe –

Veggie patch thoughts

Still working on this one, but it originated from thoughts that came about whilst tending to the veggie patch over the summer..

Sole-deep footprints where

the soul reaps from the

impressions the body makes

-grounded, not bound but wrapped

in earthy warm embrace-

the sun-baked soil raises you

and takes you back to you;

an intimate conversation with the world,

a gentle exchange,

not prising but patiently unfurling you

-blooming you without stigma or style:

you look out to look in.

Changing of tides

Changing of tides, turning of seasons,

natural progression and succession,

not subject to reason but filled with rhyme

in which time and place lace burgeoning lines-

trying to find space for the unplaceable, unwritable,

unreachable with words. The eyes looks up.

The pencil stops.

There’s the poetry.

Written upon leaving the ‘hurly burly bustle’ and living in a forest for a little while

DSC00051

Free to feel those loose beats drumming

among the forest humming of a world

of activity so close, so far –

where peace dwells tranquil and apart

and yet imparts and bestows a

warmth of heart which brings you back to

you with a soft, subtle start-

muffled with leaves which wrap you,

keep you, warm, feed, and nourish you.

Heat for the soul which began to grow

cold through a gaze shifted outward

dealing with the hurly burly bustle –

but here, now, hear the leaves rustle,

the birds sing and the contented hum of

a leaf dappled world.

Unremember all: this is everything.