I could do anything
Superheroes can do,
If for a cup of tea
With a biscuit or two.
I have a saucer,
China in grasp;
I could do anything
If life could just last.
Tag: life
The Dog Board
In a dream you left for me,
Showed where souls will go,
A mantel-mounted wooden stand
Held miniature drawers in rows.
Should I show you how your brother rests?
You said with some resolve,
And pulled out one such tiny chest
Wherein all hope dissolved.
No treasured urn, no cenotaph,
No scripture on a stone,
Just a hundred unsung blocks
In that yew-tree spirit’s home.
She said ‘It’s called The Dog Board’,
It homes your snow-dogs too,
There beneath the foxgloves,
The white drops and the blue.
There’s no entreaty I could make
To save a space atop,
That place both terrifies and captivates
Above the cauldron pot.
Haiku #695
695.
Everyone’s living
In dramas we did not make.
I choose the blank page.
Haiku #693
693.
Ostensibly, I
Am walking my dog, but my
Dog is walking me.
Haiku #688
688.
Supermarket queue;
My two is still not your two.
Endless ego spills.
Haiku #667
667.
All autumnal thoughts
Returning to your beauty.
All next, unscripted.
Savour My Saviour
I’ll savour this day
Despite daily hurts;
One of so many
Until we emerged;
If lived without hurting
I’d own lesser words
For usurping circadian
Grasshopper thoughts,
To find Life’s Arcadia
Held by our terms,
Not yet in wide heaven
But here on this earth.
The Meaning Of Fish
The meaning of fish
In my angling firth,
My minnow-mind slipped
And did not deserve.
Alluvial sediment,
Disinterment deferred,
Shifting sands seen
On a dark shiftless earth.
Croaker-bait,
Poison hook;
Reeled from a river,
My gauche gawping look.
The meaning of fish
Too late I would learn,
For if not for fish, or
Water-weeds or worms,
I would not exist
From a loch to the burn,
And my scaly-grey heart
Would no longer yearn.
Haiku #649
649.
Baltimore body,
Blood on the seventh ignored;
Death’s door is the floor.
Talus
I’m sweeping up your worries
They’re going in to bags,
I walked a week to market
And slept beneath the crags.
I heard that there are traders
Who buy and sell our fears;
They hide behind disguises,
They whisper in our ears.
I’m sweeping up your sorrows,
Flung from a coastal talus;
The market’s shutting down,
Love is now the ballast.
