Ninety Three
The day starts with the metal rattle of your walker
the loud plink-plunk of the bathroom light.
You are still with us then but when you were alone last night
I heard your muttered parley with your wife.
Everything is getting worse: buttons and buttonholes shrink
chairs are too deep for words, plates are enormous, feet too far away.
In truth you've had enough would like to wave the white flag
of your hanky to the powers that be.
Reaching up for the light is that high and hard
you might as well be bell ringing the cord
going all the way up to heaven.
Ascension
They have arrived,
the aliens; the angels,
spreading their glittery wings
and whispering to the wind.
It's not that they haven't tried,
flinging down leaves in Autumn
and driven to passionate posturing,
but we don't get the message.
This morning a luminous group
were gathered at the roadside,
arms stretched out in sadness
as if one day not far ahead
we might awake to find they've gone -
rising slowly sky-wards, roaring
like a crowd a million strong, trailing
roots, and blocking out the sun.
Later they'll be spotted in our telescopes -
huge lamenting masses,
floating across the Universe,
towards some other star.
My poetry has been published in Smith's Knoll, Orbis, Urthona, The Interpreter's House, Tears in the Fence, Other Poetry and various other publications, including three anthologies (Rising Fire Press; Fighting Cock Press). A collection, The Message, was published by Wolf at the Door press in 2001. The Heart as Origami, an international anthology of Buddhist Poetry including work by Ko Un and Jane Hirshfield was edited by Padmacandra (Pippa Meek) in 2003. For many years I've been involved in Wolf at the Door, which runs retreats to help people develop through writing as a Buddhist practice.
The day starts with the metal rattle of your walker
the loud plink-plunk of the bathroom light.
You are still with us then but when you were alone last night
I heard your muttered parley with your wife.
Everything is getting worse: buttons and buttonholes shrink
chairs are too deep for words, plates are enormous, feet too far away.
In truth you've had enough would like to wave the white flag
of your hanky to the powers that be.
Reaching up for the light is that high and hard
you might as well be bell ringing the cord
going all the way up to heaven.
Ascension
They have arrived,
the aliens; the angels,
spreading their glittery wings
and whispering to the wind.
It's not that they haven't tried,
flinging down leaves in Autumn
and driven to passionate posturing,
but we don't get the message.
This morning a luminous group
were gathered at the roadside,
arms stretched out in sadness
as if one day not far ahead
we might awake to find they've gone -
rising slowly sky-wards, roaring
like a crowd a million strong, trailing
roots, and blocking out the sun.
Later they'll be spotted in our telescopes -
huge lamenting masses,
floating across the Universe,
towards some other star.
My poetry has been published in Smith's Knoll, Orbis, Urthona, The Interpreter's House, Tears in the Fence, Other Poetry and various other publications, including three anthologies (Rising Fire Press; Fighting Cock Press). A collection, The Message, was published by Wolf at the Door press in 2001. The Heart as Origami, an international anthology of Buddhist Poetry including work by Ko Un and Jane Hirshfield was edited by Padmacandra (Pippa Meek) in 2003. For many years I've been involved in Wolf at the Door, which runs retreats to help people develop through writing as a Buddhist practice.