On the Edge of Time

They tell me
I’m dying

I’m breathing

My future
has narrowed
become
all too human

I no longer plan

Every day
every moment
every breath
is a promise
a wish
come true

a stillness
on the edge of time

6 August 2018

Something New

I’ve been looking
for something
new

I want every day
to be the first day

Beginner’s mind
the zen masters call it

Every breath
a beginning
every exhale
a letting go

I get lost
on the road
beneath my feet
where everything
is teeming with life
while my laboured breaths
reek of death

And still I walk on

Looking for something
that feels like a brightly plumed bird
beating its wings against my heart

Is it you?

16 July 2018

cropped-img_0817.jpg

Sing for Me

And if

I place my lips

just so

will you sing for me?

25 June 2018
from the English Channel

cropped-2012-05-04-15-26-32.jpg

Crossroads

It is summer
and I am ill
falling
fast

I am listening
to the blues
to Robert Johnson
and wondering
about crossroads
and old roads
and intersecting paths
and the old ways
chants heard
in lush green leaves
prayers
and blessings
witchcraft

It is summer
and I am surrounded
by roses
and lavender
and geraniums
and hanging baskets
with unknown flowers
cascading
over the sides
like a floral invocation
to unnamed goddesses
everywhere

The wind
blows
in the afternoon
It no longer
plays havoc
with my curls
They’re gone away now
wherever it is
illness takes them

At night the air stills
stars sparkle
and glitter
like you once said
my eyes did

It is summer
and I am surviving

loss
and renewal
and relentless sickness
and time
in all its
temporary majesty

20 June 2018
on the Sussex Coast

C2185BD5-971A-40C3-B2AD-1A42B5055596

the fragility of summer

Old World Blues

there’s a guitar
standing in the corner

it never makes a sound

days of silence
like a sudden body blow
fill up old world rooms

with memories of blues
haunting dark corners
while a mild case
of decay
covers
the dead
and the living

and
Danny and me
we listen for those notes
that never get played

he drums his fingers
on my thighs
while I
just keep on dreamin’

8 June 2018

Somewhere in the United Kingdom

Wonderful new poet I just discovered

via Featured Publication – The Gun-Runner’s Daughter by Susan Castillo Street

Watching Him: a drabble

Watching him is like watching clouds in a blue sky. I never seem to be able to tear my gaze away. He has a hundred different expressions.

These days I mostly see worry, scrutiny. I am a mystery, a problem to solve, a puzzle to work out.

I watch emotions flit across his face like a thousand precious butterflies searching for nectar, for the sweetness life has to offer.

He is so serious now, until I touch him and he stops and his brown eyes soften and a shy smile moves over his face.

This is how he loves me.

IMG_0392
Summer Solstice, Avebury 2014