This bushfire that has engulfed us
Continues inexorably to spread
Now almost everything from our before time
Has been consumed
Reduced to a blanket of fine ash
Ready for the first stiff breeze to scatter it
And still these wild flames seek more fuel
Soon even my country will be gone
And all whom I have known
Ash in the wind
This is what the Phoenix knew
To seize your heart’s desire
You must walk naked into fire
You must be purged of every old disappointment
And systemic failure
Every foolish choice
Every clinging mistake
You must burn the old skin clean
Only then can you step into your new life
And make dream flesh.
Lessons learned and unlearned
Things throw weird shapes
Form odd configurations
Like a row of crooked tombstones
Or an old man’s broken teeth
Life is never tidy
Rarely tied up in a neat bow
We stagger over the
Obstacle course of our mistakes
Get tangled in the barbed wire of our
And rail against our self-inflicted injustices
In our fruitless search for that perfect
And why we have to grow so old
Before it finally dawns that
Perfection is in the moments
Never in the years
Is a mystery beyond this bad poet’s ken.
Words and image are my own.
A small light in the deep dark
I dreamed I was beneath your sea
One held breath
And eyes full of wonder
I swam beneath the surface tension
Deep beneath your storm wracked waves
To that place where colours dart
And tendrils wave
That place within you where all is silence
I dove deeper still
To your sandy bed
Searched among the hard places
Where grit becomes beauty
And there I found your oyster
Which I eagerly shucked
To reveal the pearl
That perfect luminescent orb
Your shining soul
I slipped you then into my mouth
And fetched you into the air and the light
Just to gaze upon your face forever.
The past comes flooding in
So many moments that had washed out to sea
This knocking of flotsam
Jumble of jetsam
Swirl about me in wearisome entanglements
I am the sailor pulled from the water
Memory only slowly returning
Who threw out the rope?
Who hauled me in?
Was I not happy in the bosom of the waves?
Now I am laid out upon your rough deck
Subject again to your laws and regulations
Tell me not that I am free when
The desperate past is my cruel gaoler
Don’t strand me here like a castaway
Release me back into the sea.
On my hard to find (because I totally set it up wrong) About page, I wrote that this blog is basically a love letter. At its core, it is the story of my long-distance relationship with Jersey girl.
That relationship was meant to be the main focus of the blog, the narrative arc if you will. However, as time has gone by, other elements have slipped in. Having written about a bazillion poems (I know right, WTF), I’ve managed to bury the lead as it were. In short, I had to go and get all poetical and totally diluted the love story in the process.
Today I spent about four hours doing some much-needed housekeeping on here and now the narrative has been restored to its former prominence. I have created a number of sections under the category “Love letters” which will allow new readers and old alike easy access to the full story from the beginning to the present.
If you decide to read it all the way through, I hope you find it more engaging and less a self-indulgent plea for attention. More than one reader has told me that they found some of the subject matter useful in their own lives. If that’s so, then I feel it has been a worthwhile endeavor.
I would also like to point the reader towards the two new categories “On love” and “Kingdom of days” both of which feature material relevant to the main narrative. And for a different perspective, the category “Jersey girl” features a couple of her writings on the subject of – you guessed it – us.
I’m very much hoping, now Jersey no longer works for a certain book chain, that she can get her life back and find the time to contribute more often.
No dumb show
The artwork and characters featured in this strip are my personal IP and may not be reproduced or distributed without my express permission. ©1990-2017
A beach without an ocean
Is nothing but a desert
And you my love
Have had only shifting sands to sustain you
For so long now
You’ve forgotten how to swim
Let me be your water
And pour myself over you
Let me bring back life
In myriad forms
I long to cool your fevered head
Your anxious soul
I long to be the
Tide that brings your little boat away
And returns you to your true home
Among the the surging waves.
Words and image are my own.