London Poem: Day 350

2 August

It started slow, and
Ended just the same.
The breeze’s cool, lazy loop
Eating away at the day’s heat,
Suspends the heart, like
Puppet strings left for the night,
To remind the lonely mind that
Home, too, is a lonely hunter.
The sun, folding into itself,
Eats its own to give way
To night, and the approach
Of flight.

London Poem: Day 348

31 July

With a quiet night a still,
Gentle rumble disturbs the
Easy plans of a night for the ages.
But, why would the world change?
Why would the fire flip?
The gentle sail overhead eases the pain
With soft lights twinkling,
Everlasting, while the trees
Bend like pulled elastic –
We are all the way in,
Through pain and foiled plans,
And nature may only look back to
Watch with its many eyes.

London Poem: Day 140

4 January

To sleep,
As the languid hours pass,
Would satisfy,
But undoubtedly it never comes.
Heavy lidded as the wide,
Sombre hours unwind
In a slow, lengthy bloom and
The chill doesn’t wait for
Sleep to come.
Where are you?
Twisting in shapeless dreams,
Pushing restful reacquaintance
Into that deepening,
Unending night?
Surely the horizon arches
Beyond eyesight,
But for now the dark deepens
And flattens the world
So that these eyes seem
To never shut.

London Poem: Day 108

3 December

Life moves as it will,
And with a little luck
It will move for you.
But, it is without promises
When one does their best dreaming.
Large designs unfold and live
Faithfully in growing hope.
Nothing lives larger than
It does in the mind.
Images grow distorted by fancies,
It will never exist as it is
Before it ever does
Because it lives in thought,
Evolving to fit the widening
Need to have this dream fulfilled.
The world cannot keep up.
The mind cannot keep up.
Watch it, as life flows
Into it as quickly
As it flows out.
It is the heave and
Upheaval of reality.

London Poem: Day 96

21 November

Forget what is not there,
And live with what is.
So much exists
Beyond blind eyes,
Just reach for it.
But, taste is difficult
To shake when the world beyond
Is unknown.
Risk and trial; to dare,
Eat it up, and call it normal –
You may only grow
When there is nothing else –
Choices to be made,
And move on.
I’ll blink, and we’ll be elsewhere.
Shallow up the worry,
Fear and nerves;
The world only moves when you will it to.

London Poem: Day 95

20 November

How dreams weave, interconnected
In thought, swirling in quiet
Desperation to be justified,
Because thought, as it is our own,
And still not, needs to know
It is not alone.
Mark this, swift wishing
And share it –
Pass it back and forth
So it no longer calls itself
One, but a pair.
Thought is a soft wind,
And dreams are what delivers
It to each individual
So it is caught in thin
Clutches and recognized,
to be sent off to the next.
Dreams belong to all of us,
To share and send on,
Just to let us know,
We are not alone.

London Poem: Day 64

20 October

Sleepy streets become tangled
In the lulling lay of evening fog.
From a distance the gentle
Rumble of the N-line jostles
The slumbers of sleeping families –
But we, living without time,
Remain awake to further shake
The world from dreams.
“I’ll do one,” a voice cries,
and the orders spill out.
“I can’t see,” cries another,
“There’s no need, the route
To the mouth hasn’t changed.”
It is then the world wakes.
Dreams disappear and waking
Life resumes.