Words really matter. Blavatsky said 'the universe is never again the same for every word spoken!'. Reading and writing poems and poetry helps me concentrate on words, thoughts, feelings. My first son, Andrew, has Down's Syndrome and he allows me to see the world differently and that's a great source of inspiration - as are my sons Angus, Adam and wife Amelie...........words, poems, feelings ...........Love - of course!!!
Monday, 16 August 2010
Sole
blue shoes, play as long
with them as you can;
sing to them,
leave no note
held inside unsung.
Let your blue shoe-song bubble
out of nothingness divine
in humility, each shoe
will make
something out of
nothing with an energy sublime.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Coldth
your son does bad
things one day
-like- hurting someone
a little violently
so you take a away
symbols of love
-like- eye contact,
touch,
smiles, talking
and he begins to sob
like a child
because he is a child
‘I’m scared’ he says
‘a little bit scared’
and then, only then,
do you begin
to sob with him
from a hurt inside
as deep as the sea
do you begin to know
what love may become
and what love is.
Thursday, 12 August 2010
Physics
rain is tickling
our little tent
sounding like
a gigantic rain stick
(a thing man makes
to try to mimic
ancient sound)
somewhat like
the madness of
countless particles
clattering
my retina
to co-create
a clatter of
what I must admit.
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
Sole
you handle all my
verticality
and prop me up?
Chaps, how about sponsoring
a little controlled experiment
to push the boundaries of thinking
on current biological knowledge?
Does anyone have a network
with a little spare cash, like, to grab
a few grand for Important Research.
Look there’s 10 of you for sponsorship.
Let’s get a publicity effort together,
Big lad at the end, off you go to market
and the rest of us can have a nice dinner
at home, roast beef, wee-wee, piggies,
then gladrags on - for the standing ovation.
Sunday, 8 August 2010
Friday, 6 August 2010
Paradise Lost 2
with a tiny belly laugh;
although we are beloved,
perhaps we cannot love.
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
Man’s search for meaning
Cracking through a list of jobs;
remember cheese; what about cars
and timetables, emails, the phone?
And, smooth as summer, Yesterday’s
only one abstraction of experience
upwards, outwards, maybe making meaning
by a little brain’s outreach for sense.
To put a finger in a dyke of days,
without a mirror, how
Tomorrow turns and turns into Today, today.