all the love
in the world
sooner or later
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The cuckoo’s sad song
always six syllables!
When that strange stirring to a poem comes –
the heart lights up, so eager to explorethe unknown path that listening may find:obedience, awe, devotion, humblenessall rise to meet the offering of the word,and gently, like new father with his child,tend precious stranger granted to their care.Then silence turns to music in the mindand all too solid words form, black and white;behind the magic…
Going deaf
Yet my listening’s better –‘cos my hearing is worse.Will it improvemy writing verseif my listening’s betterthough my hearing is worse?But, on the bright side – I’mtruth’s creditor, not debtor:my hearing’s worsebut my listening is better…
See this table top. Smooth, waxed
a finger nail will lift. Beneath the surface,atoms, molecules, tension and release,law and freedom play out a dramawhich the teacup does not know or tell.And so, much else. All. And so the mind.As if, webcamming the family at play,the screen jumpcuts, plays on the screenyour inner life for all to see; the family freeze, cold,open-mouthed…Two…
This winter day
even between the stones at the water’s edgeand the mist almost hides the topsof the mountainsonly I am listening to the heron’s cryI brought my brush and pen and paper and ink blockbut there is no poem here;Nature is hiding her secrets todaylike a silent woman in her winter coat.I could write how last summerwe…
The hunger, even felt
the adequately fed, theadequately housed..the hunger without a name,a smell, a taste,without an image, withoutan advertising agencyto shape it for us; quietlywhimpering, whining at the doorto be let in and fed;is it something we’ve never had?distantly rememberlike a childhood happiness?or have, but want much more of?and if a good fairy passedand said, I can offer…