Christmas on my walk

Going for my usual walk -
my half hour of freedom -
I look for signs of this time of year
Something I might pick up
a specialness in the air.
Well, it's a glorious sunny day,
small hawks are hovering about
always alert.
Faithful watch dogs
are watching out for strangers
turning round and round
barking from their square of concrete ground
outside the master's mansion.
Down on the footpath
a woodlouse scuttles along
humbly minding its business.
It could be any day...


But there,
getting into the car
Not so happy people
off to visit some relative
because it's December 25th.
Tradition and religion
are just a burden they bear
their body language doesn't lie.
Here, a homeless guy
tries to sell Santa's hoods
to slightly impatient drivers
forced to wait for the green light.
On the windows, occasionally,
a baby Jesus with open arms
and an almost smug expression
competes with clumsy Santa
who is hanging
rather than climbing
the dirty building's wall.
Down the road
billboards announce
fabulous discounts
if only you're gullible enough...

And that's it,
That was Christmas on my walk:
weak gestures,
worn out symbols
lame excuses
and more useful objects
than there are uses.

Sensuous stuff

Pleasing syllables
soft and smooth

arching adjectives
aching to be stroked

adverbs adjusting
to a surface

easy-going conjunctions
making themselves
comfortable

interjections
stretching slowly

voluble verbs
purring gently

nebulous nouns
naming the world
in silent circumspection

as pronouns
pronounce
the unpronounceable

all this sensuous stuff
is so delicate
and yet so intense

that it feels like
present, past and future
could merge
into one single tense

and the words we exchange
for their sensuousness
are already romance.

Private exposure

Funny and odd
that this need of exposure
should spring from a desire
to be secretly intimate
That this need to be cuddled
should make me
drive you away.

Funny and weird
that this craving for emotion
this thirst, this hunger
for lusty devotion
should make me blush
when faced with your words
today.

Odd and frustrating
to need care and medication
when one is a nurse

to find one is transparent
underneath
so many layers of verse.

Gone

You sweet and tender one

with your blissful essence,
a unique, soft voice
and your purposeful -
albeit sometimes erratic -
presence

you're gone
for the time being...


Gone to higher places,
a brighter sun,
gone to spread your grace
and your witty good humour
around everyone.

Here
remains a shadow,
a scent,
an echo
lingering by.
And feeling lost,
forsaken
slightly incomplete,
alas,
am I.

Take a small step

breath in
then let go
reach out
for something to hold on to
take a small step
- that's it -
grab my arm
come along
- there -
see? it's easy
(I know how difficult it has been)
but you're here now
don't look back.

The Power of Softness

(To Jeff Wilhelm and Bruce Novak)

Yes, I felt it.
Because language is there for us,
making it all possible,
I felt that spark of magic
coming towards me
from somewhere lost and gone
into my here and now.
Yes, I understand.
And it makes me wish you were here
and I could listen to your voice,
look into your eyes
touch your arm
to make sure you exist.

Yes, I hear you,
I am with you,
right here!
Please... ?
Can't you see?

It's beautiful!
I get it!

Oh, why do I insist...




(Note: I am currently on page 68 of your wonderful and inspiring book, Teaching Literacy for Love and Wisdom.)

"Re-creation" suggested by Gabriele Rico

After "Writing in the Dark" by Denise Levertov (1987)


Such an inspiring sight
such blissful absence
of light!
A vision felt with passion,
eyes closed,
in a blind man's fashion.

There, the helping hand.
A sense of achievement,
the exhilarating joy,
even when the vision
is irreparably lost.

When I open my eyes again,
there is a gain
I sense with pride:
a new bit of me
inside.

Words

Words -
you've got to love them
for their permanent freshness
their nonchalant, disconcerting gaiety
their light, exquisite beauty.

Surprising, suggesting, playful words
ajar, albeit and galore
exotic, rampant, prevailing
prickly, landscape, awe,
lo, capricious, ashore...

However ruthless and unjust
words are never ever responsible
for the mess they might make.
After drought,
an earthquake
tsunamis,
you might curse the sun, the sea,
the earth's bowels or crust -

but who would remember to blame
their innocent, accidental name?

There but not there

I know nothing about your pain
your confusion
I cannot begin to imagine
what you feel each morning
whether you manage
or can't get out of bed.

All I know
is that I'm with you
whatever the path
you choose to tread
and whether or not
you want me there.

I may be blind and deaf
and dumb
silly and useless
and there may be nothing
you wish to share.

Still, out of stubbornness
(you might think)
idiocy, lack of common sense
or something worse
(I would call it friendship)
I hang on.
And on.
...

Contradiction

Far and here
there and close
strange and comforting
intimately unknown

like a wind
deeply felt inside
when it blows.



Mine but alien
always never

like a magical ancient object
which might both unite
and sever.

In the early morning rain...

Around the sun

Around the sun
time and again
euphoric, slightly uneasy,
dizzy from the very light
that life was first made of.


Round and round
restless and brave
circling the one star
that might burn you.


Come down,
descend and be still.
Perhaps it hasn't scorched you yet,
But it will.

Happy birthday

The day you were born
I wasn't around.



Yet I rejoice
today
for what I have found.

No presents
no gifts
to be worn,
treasured,
or put on a shelf
can be more valuable
than yourself.

Cryptic fun

So, you're having fun.


You find my words are cryptic
but amusing
You like coming here
to be puzzled
by little shreds of thought
painfully ripped
from my tormented soul

to you they sound like  music...


Well,
Enjoy it while the flavour
lingers in you mind.
Savour
that comforting sense
of feeling that the key
is not for you to find.



But this riddle,
my friend,
has but one solution
which I declare now
plain and out and open:
whatever it is
that you read into my words
is exactly, precisely
what I want to say -
there's nothing you have missed.

Because your reading them
is their motive to exist.

Waiting

You inspire me.

Without your presence
your prompts
Nothing worth writing seems to come out.

No feelings, no thoughts
Justify their weaving
No joy deserves believing
No pain is worth a shout.

Pilgrimage

To what sacred place
does devotion take you
for no man can live
without blind belief?


Whom do your prayers
invoke late at night
for no man can sleep
without wild dreams?

Where shall your steps
lead you tomorrow
for no trip can last
without destination?

How can you find
the faith to believe
what no other man
seems to conceive?


Mysterious pilgrim
unknown to your shrine
travelling light
this moment here
the next moment gone
out of my sight


be blessed:
I proclaim you divine.

Linda Rose - Bob Acri

Stillness

You know your place
You say.
You stand aside and watch
Wait patiently and listen
Smiling without judging
Crossing no lines.

You know your place
You say.
And it certainly shows,
By the way.

Nonsense

There is no such thing
as nonsense.

The most idiotic, foolish set of words
the most ridiculous message
the most absurd
is full of meaningful
relevant sense...

It must however
be carefully heard.

Meaning is mine to find
More than it is yours to decide.
Just as it is yours to discover
even what I think that I can hide.

Stephen Fry on Language

Stephen Fry Kinetic Typography - Language from Matthew Rogers on Vimeo.

Inside looking in

I live for this.

It's ridiculous,
I know.
Pathetic, exaggerated,
over the top,
Think what you like
it won't make me change.

Inside my head
there's a whole little world
I created to suit me
an order
I can rearrange.

It's made out of thoughts
built upon words
sustained by ideas
scaffolded only
by feeling and want.

So weak and ineffable,
hollow and scant
so meaningless too
people would say -
if they knew.

They'd be right
of course
in their own petty way.
But a world like this
is so reliable
pleasant and safe
it does not disappoint me
or fail to be true.
Plus it is all mine
to enjoy
and will last
for as long as do.


Of course,
if only you knock on my door -
even if you come
to ravage and shake
to strike and to break
all buildings and walls -


I will be delighted
and hope you will stay
after everything falls.

Going your way

I thought my whole life
I would just have to sit and wait
Pouring useless words out
While the best of life went on
cheerful and indifferent
right before
my self-blinded eyes.

But now, after all,
I exhilarate
almost out of breath
and feel as if I am soaring
high above.

All it took
was that gesture you made
a subtle provocation
that reached out
probing for what's there
poking my numb self
stirring its capacity
for love.


True,
nothing we might say
could build safe, solid ground
for us to land.
So let me go your way
and we'll just stay above
up in the sky -
not down in hell -
living on wild dreams
with no end.

So there you were

Acceptance is key, of course.
Take birds, insects, even mammals:
all except us
- wretched beastly souls -
just take or leave whatever's there
and move on.

We have to analyse, consider
- "what if...?" -
 speculate, refuse
try to change, absorb
and so many times abuse
that nothing can ever be the same
or - which is worse -
we make it gone.

So there you were,
just passing through
and I couldn't simply look away
once I had set my eyes on you.

And here I am
quite stuck
feeling trapped, paralysed, amazed...

Were I a lady-bird
a dog, a sea gull
or a duck
And the question
would never have been raised.

Say what you like

Say what you like
entice me
lure me
provoke me
with your flattering words,

there is nothing I can do.


Say what you will
make my heart pound
my eyes shine
my body tremble,
there is nowhere I can go

to be with you.


Say what I want
take me
tell me
give me
what I need.


It seems
that nothing I can be
will make you look away


But
sadly
tragically
fatally
nothing you or I can say


will make us lovers one day.