addendum

when I was born
my mother wasn’t there
the clouds parted
I tasted my first air

when I was a child
my father chose to die
the country widened
beneath an open sky

when I was a man
my love abandoned me
the birds began to sing
setting my soul free

when I was old
my heart declined to beat
the setting sun burned
consuming me in heat

when I was reborn
my life began once more
mistakes and lessons learnt
repeating like before

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to be alone on this cloud tonight

to be     alone    on this cloud tonight
white as a bone in a shroud of light

I don’t know how I came to be here
a glow of flames masking my fears

darkening sunsets above and below
threatening the love in overshadow

awaiting my fate I slumber in peace
enveloping weight of covering fleece

the time of angels has come upon me
bells that chime and humble sweetly

the shepherdess watches overseeing
the poetess recites words embracing

to be     alone     on this cloud tonight
white as a bone in a shroud of light

(to read more in this series please click on the Shepherdess tag below)

oysters and samphire

we shared oysters and samphire
the sun melting through layered clouds
until, drowning with a hiss, it disappeared
and all that was left were empty shells
tossed over shoulders on the midden heap
mingling with fish bones and salty wishes
old spells cast from our ancestor’s hands
the same sun and sea bearing witness
to this trial of life blown across the seasons
winter now thankfully behind us
young lambs gambolled over the dunes
each evening straying just a little bit further
like the lengthening spring days
and your long curly hair in the pine breeze
filaments of the finest electric silk
that stroked my cheek as jellyfish tentacles
might drift about and inadvertently sting
but for me it was all I desired
and desire was in our hearts

(to read more in this series please click on the Shepherdess tag below)

my beautiful girl

my beautiful girl
went gallivanting off
into the storm
her curls in the clouds
twisted in tree branches
her siren song
whistling with the wind
peeling with thunder
lightened with laughter
her bare feet squelching out
the loughs and the seas
she formed the mountains
with her breasts and thighs
no rest or sleep
whilst I wept and worked
her galley slave oiled and lustful
chained to the oar locks
I dragged across the heavens
the stars for her
and fitted them one by one
into the orbits of her eyes
where shining like diamonds
she became forever
my beautiful dream

(to read more in this series please click on the Shepherdess tag below )

apartment 2

angles upon high rise blocks
cubes against low hung clouds
yellow highlighted balconies
blue sky thinking is
thinking out the box, are
windows and recesses
will you walk in hallways?
talk in elevators? talk, TALK
button down your minds with muzak
push buttons, office suits, ties
telephone intercom conversations
will the sun reflect your hopes?
will the night hide your fears?
pigeons that rest on ledges will
contemplate the urban landscape
record your unimportant thoughts
whilst a drone passes overhead
they are dropping propaganda leaflets
again, you will say
to yourself, alone
hot air blown from underground
will the trees wilt only, is
flowering memories fade by
shadows mask your / their indifference
locked in your cells waiting here
staring at mirrored walls, ceilings
opening and closing refrigerator doors
stalking your own forgotten effigies until
until daybreak sets you free once more
with automatic curtains
coffee percolator smells
you wanted her, didn’t you?
the neighbour, you wanted her?
to knock on your door
and offer you her body
unconditionally
like a porn shop dolly come alive
with gaping holes
pull the chord
choke on it
cornflakes and milk instead
hot buttered toast, marmalade
a dullness that bleeds on the brain
is something missing?
didn’t they tear down the something?
replaced it with a zer0
now you don’t know
which way to turn
when you leave the building
because you are a servant, blind
tracing angles upon blocks
cubes against clouds
this and that
this and
that

 

your name and mine

the storm last night blew
the last remaining heart-shaped leaves
from the poplar trees
and swirled them through my darkest dreams
in which your knuckles rapped upon my eyelids
in which you called from beyond the clouds
my name and your name

and with growing intensity
every last remaining rusting roofing nail
that keeps my house from blowing asunder
jiggled like loose teeth in a crowded coffin box
on which your fingers had once released
the suffocating soil to bury my voice
from that day forth

oh that I would recognise you now
with your hair tangled in windblown knots
and your limbs akimbo amongst the fallen branches
strewn upon the orchard grass
where leaves lie rotting and colour is drained
from cheeks that once were apple flushed
with your lover’s kisses

you are but the ambient past to me
pliant and fluid with a light that glimmers
not guiding or warning or even moving
but still as a mirror on an oaken table
your calfskin gloves neatly folded
heart-shaped leaves from the poplar trees
pressed between the pages of your journal

all substance turned to dust that blows
on the opening of the crackling memory
you offered me no more than you could
the leaf held to the moonlight reveals its veins
as if the blood has been preternaturally drained
and I am left with only an echo
of your name and mine

what shall I write you on this maudlin morning

what shall I write you on this maudlin morning
that peers between clouds over the hillside

what shall I tell you that you haven’t already heard
what truths and lies that hide behind my words

what shall I keep from you in future safe storage
those little white lies we disguise behind our eyes

what shall you take from me and what will I give
this moment or that or the past so recently forgot

what shall the day bring if nothing’s worth repeating
more clouds, more rain, more words, more sighs

what shall I write you on this maudlin morning
that pours between us like an ocean divide

glassbox eyrie

in your glassbox eyrie we lay on cloudpillows
and dreamed of poetry and pictures

down below the flotsam flowed
and scum collected in off-white corners

up here where the swans flew with outstretched necks
the sounds of the streets could not be heard

like the silence that snow brings, you said
or the quiet at 4am

when all the clutter has been swept away
and the albino creatures come out to play

is there a point to all this hiding away, I asked
the foreverdreaming and the cloud painting?

but you were gone in a feather
blown on a breeze of your own making

drifting to your next glassbox eyrie
to lie on cloudpillows and dream of poetry and pictures

tracing footsteps

arriving Gare du Nord
and stepping out into
the late afternoon rush hour
there is rain on the pavements
and puddles in the gutters
motorbikes lean in patient lines
clouds gather in strips of sky

as we look up
and as we walk along
Rue la Fayette
the air is heavy
it feels toxic
with promises

Metro station Poissonnière
café – bar – tabac – brasserie
Metro station Cadet
turn right and right again

our heartbeats echo sirens
our tongues are tied
in tired throats
we want to roll the names
between our lips
like French kisses
but we are parched

when we arrive
at the Hotel Strassbourg
Rue de Montholon
leaning out on the balcony
smoking Gauloises Disque Bleu
every bit the Parisians

my belle de jour
my plus belle de nuit

as the night falls on the day
we join the crowds in Pigalle
sex shops and harlots hussle
we hold hands and smile
ce soir mon amour
I whisper in your ear

and tomorrow Père Lachaise
because you want to leave
a cigarette for Jim Morrison
and say bonjour to Proust
and non je ne regrette rien
to Édith Piaf and Oscar Wilde

and the day after that
the corridors of the Louvre
with Turkish Bathers for me
and Liberty Leading the People
for you before

we arrive at our conclusion
under a brightening blue
September brilliance
not quite Yves Klein
more Pompidou pipes
or Monet at Giverny

let’s stay here forever you say
or until the money runs out I reply
but the Gard du Nord beckons
and the ferry will take us home
from this fantasy

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The Postcard Poet

I recently started a little side project using my travel and hiking photos. You can find them on Facebook and Twitter and occasionally here. Links below. Hope you like:

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Twitter: @ThePostcardPoet

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/postcardpoet/