A Fleet of Moments

Sailing in the wind

searching for the aft

in too-fro

 two-four time

 

lost gone

 both seconds

and

now have passed

 

when choice

had not courage

to find deep

its voice

 

and spoken knots

were all

that tongues

could unwind

 

fare laid on tables

platitude’s plates

with goblet greed

chin

set ‘gainst fate

 

with singular point

of focus

 me

 

where the capital M

barbs the wired fence

 

for brothers know

longer are

 

You are U

And not I

 

yet at end

all must die

 

colours and flags

their tattered

tattoos

 fly

 

else to pause

and pose

that dreadful,

dreadful, why

 

 And that fleet of moments

 

weighs anchor

to measure twice

and cut

but one

 

live we must

with all

we’ve

done

 

the sorrow

of tomorrow

comes fast

in seems

 

threadbare

on cloth

in sand grain’s

flow

 

knit one

pearl one

out of all

has beens

 

 time pinches

the eggs

quick

quick, slow

 

He said that

Aesop’s foibles

are all ours

to stow

 

And the fleet of moments

sails by

so

quick,

quick

……slow

 

where only

is the

single

If

 

A jury

on a

wasted

life

 

a mantram

and a

present

 

found not

on blade’s

sharpest

knife

 

for eyes

that cannot see

the fleet of moments

 

they,

they

hear not me

 

gone they are

with  n’er return

 

I wonder

will I

ever

learn?

 

1.5 billion

1.5 billion

 

Are the beats of my life

more than 17

thousand days

and now

 

each sand grain second

in the egg timer

is longer

longer than ever before

 

each shard of  desert time

passes

and the hundreds and thousands

which I shared

 

are sprinkled fairies

on the ice’d cake

the wrinkled rink

of skating circles

 

the rub of blades

pirouettes and curtsies

as the waxed popcorn cups

leave the frozen stage

 

a decade since it happened

and now it happens again

790 and 510

days now roughly counted

 

the spreadsheet of a life

made to excel

has come roundabout again

mores blues than swing

 

each rhapsody 

is clarinet clear

and has all the silver keys

pressed and shiny

 

and now the penumbra

of the passing

flows on under

the bridge of sighs

 

that price of will

and of injured pride

tags not humility

and brings again divide

 

its longevity is marked

upon near half

of all those seconds

exact in the price

 

And it is a crying, crying shame.

Serenity “Haiku”

a heron stands

one leg in the reeds

he reaches for his oboe

 

a contented carp

blows bubbles

puckering his lips

 

a lotus unfolds

her petal wings

butterflies waft incense

 

a busy dragon-fly

is a rainbow

who caresses time

 

clear crystal ponds

reflect pure light

whiter than snow

 

a pendant drop

hangs from the gallows

of a moment

 

a ripple stretches

across a dewy pond

and yawns sleepily

 

a reed bends

in the harsh winds

which soon, too will pass

 

a moorhen dives

hungry for breakfast,

a croissant with butter

 

the spirit churns

all of the milk

to spread on toast

 

a hungry falcon

hovers in the wind

seeking a morsel

 

the rain falls heavy

the ducks rejoice

water off their backs

 

a rōnin waits

for he has no master

else his heart

 

he sits seiza

and watches only walls

for there, is wisdom.

Ephemera

On the diaphanous membrane

Of the dream’s lightest

Flowing veil

 

Comes the faintest

Faintest

….Thread.

 

Stretched out between the pegs,

In the twilight cusp

Of a virgin day.

 

Written by The renaissance master

On the sky’s

Soft and yielding canvas.

 

Danced in the pink vapour trails

And the monks

Golden hand.

 

Leafing through the pages

Of the autumn’s footstep

Path.

 

With summer’s seaside toes,

And springtime’s

Tulip heart.

 

As winter’s night time sleep,

Falls

Now rested on the earth.

 

And yawns

….And stretches

 

The audacious snowdrop

Raises a cautious

Meercat head.

 

Searching the heaven

For the Eagle’s

Winsome, win some

Flight.

 

And feeling the feather

Tickle the memory’s

Venetian crystal bell.

 

Of perfect point

Engraving

In moon dust’s

Weeping fire.

 

And tenuous tingling

Touching hands.

 

Reaching like winter’s breath

 

And stretching

Between the stars.

 

And finding

The owl and the pussycat.

 

Floating in the sea

Of dreams.

 

And sailing with

Poseidon’s breath.

 

Into

 

Into the Chantilly

Lacen

Fabric

Of fate’s

Fertile plain.

 

To watch the numbers

On the dice’s

Worldly clock.

 

And to count the seconds,

Tick tock

Tick tock………….

 

Pear Drop Memories

in the glass jar

behind the pear drops

are some memories

 

they have no insistence

 

if I pull out the cork

I can lay them

on a white handkerchief

 

they have no order

 

they are more delicate

than they used to be

filigree sugar – work

 

they have no substance

 

I can weave them

with the thread of time

to build a tapestry

 

they are a story

 

the sell by date

on the jar’s bottom

has long expired

 

they have no tang left

 

like cirrus envelopes

they float across room,

rice paper notes

 

they have no more rain

 

I can pour them

into a paper sweet bag

and then twist the corners

 

they have no weight

 

dried in a tissue

wrapped in gossamer

now back in the jar

 

they are ready for bed

 

I know where to find them

in a glass jar

behind the pear drops….

The Exquisite Second

Suspended

In this exquisite second

Poised

 

All the fate-clouds

Rain

 

The ashes of before

Wash me

Marrow deep

 

The blessings

And the curses,

Envelop me

 

Those powdered deeds

They finger-fly

 

That cloud-burst

… inevitability

Soothes & enlivens

 

I sense the thunder-clap

The applause

Heavenly

 

The moment

Pregnant,

Heavy, birthing

 

Naught can I do

Else bathe

In the very time of it

 

It flows

Suspended, here

This exquisite second