365 Ways With Words

Habit Muncher and Scant Nurture

                                        Thin boobs

                                        Under a Lycra stretch

                                        Perched on muffin-framed reserve

                                        Neither move nor move again

                                        By crossing's quicksteps

                                        Or in the shopstep foxtrot

                                        Beneath the peeled summer layer

                                        Is revealed a gormless sunless wonder

 

                                        Treble-bellied sway

                                        Cut through by cupping belt

                                        Beyond-paunch store

                                        Held bare with skin-tight cottons

                                        Resting ill on a bike's cross frame

                                        Bested by porcine gravity

                                        Sweat rains bless each bedsore crevice

 

                                        And in those visions

                                        The full scrape of corpulence rubs

                                        Inviting to the occasion

                                        Unfettered explication

                                        Genetic crutches and instilled fear

                                        Habit muncher and scant nurture

                                        But we eat what we become

Take It All –

                                        Timelife has flown

                                        And with it my pattering feet

                                        Each baby curl of hair

                                        Whisped into the stiff breeze

                                        A blob of angry Beethoven

                                        Happy Boy!

 

                                        Golden rage departed

                                        Awe – cooled and dampened

                                        Resident of conjecture

                                        Insight and power believed

                                        Emerging Spirit!

 

                                        And in moments between

                                        Awakening and now

                                        Aspirations and cliff-falls

                                        Hooey and crux

                                        Bewilderment and peace

 

                                        On a sparrow's flight

                                        The next day depends

                                        By a slight smile

                                        Dawn breaks

                                        Take it all –

About-Heart-Break

                                            Inspired-inculcated-cardholdheld-handshine-shiny-shake-keeled-keeper

                                            An earful accumulator in distracting detraction

                                            Drown and deafen and empty and deep

                                            They are the same

 

                                            On the rock-strewn road near the end there are few stops worth the time

                                            Spiteful eyes converge with daubed memories

                                            Emotic erotic rocket fire

                                            Spits up the morning

 

                                            Sleepy wellspring of devotion pushes in a proud undetected direction

                                            And effortlessly leaves a trail of star tears

                                            Ahead are cold mornings

                                            Shoulder skin frozen

Decisions

                                        Intensity emotion, the split-time divorces

                                                About turn, advance or stop

                                                        How about it, on the rash, or pre-planned give-up?

 

                                        Super-fragrance in a future flower canopy

                                                In silent growth, the happy bees flit around the ears

                                                        All is well for them. Do I share the deal?

 

                                        Once more it comes around, but new

                                                So in the difficulties of decision is a dream

                                                        A dance macabre in the heart

 

                                        Once hand on the tiller tilts

                                                Fortuna signs the open seas, a course

                                                        And I gaze at the wake’s trail behind

Seize The Moment

                                                
                                                The moment is here

                                                At last

                                                Novelty

                                                It is always new

                                                And now

                                                Next and next again

                                                Neotenic

                                                Fresh without blemish

                                                To change before stagnation

                                                To mould before finality

                                                Realise the innovation

                                                Go, inch on, or run

                                                Begin and set in motion

                                                Crack the egg

                                                Build the house

                                                Start the dance

                                                Immediate flight

                                                Pen to blank paper

                                                Paddle back that water

                                                Fire up the barbie

                                                Tear open the presents

                                                Put the needle on that record

                                                Tuck in and gorge

                                                Say what you are busting to say

                                                Voila!

                                                Seize it

                                                Now

                                                Immediately

 

                                                To delay

                                                        And defer

                                                                Means

                                                                        It's too late

Breath of Easterly Wind

 

                                                    Starlight dimly leads upon a perilous path

                                                    Long before, the silent cows hear noisy footfalls approach

                                                    So softly around I ginger, their calm presence is felt

                                                    A warm sweetness rings their rest

                                                    Homely, but a pressing hour approaches

 

                                                    Skystretch thin and mute

                                                    In gradients grow particulates on the earthturn schedule

                                                    Too late, these sleepless clumsy feet scrabble up scree

                                                    The full light has come

                                                    It glareburns upon the shimmering waves

                                                    Along the eastern coast far from eyes but mine

                                                    No fishing boat or trawler's wake

                                                    Empty of bulk and tankers beyond

                                                    This July hour is partnerless

                                                    Solely me, the dogs, the swifts and dragonflies, the sun

                                                    All clouds are coy this morning

                                                    Not a breath of easterly wind

                                                    This is the moment

 

                                                    Last drops in hand, all water drained

                                                    The canine pair know where to go

                                                    Down, along a perilous ridge to trees

                                                    Too quick they are, and rightly so

                                                    I find them basted in the stream

                                                    Beside a bull under spider canyon

 

                                                    Long are the music waves on a pristine beach deserted

                                                    Dryads and Oceanids cavort and win me

                                                    Into cleansing tumbles my nakedness is won

                                                    And for a time there is a single entity

                                                    The crystalline peace

                                                    A totality in union

                                                    Before breakfast at the café

The Mountain on Your Right

                                      

                                                    Around the sandflat bay, tide out

                                                    Raised beds a-crackle and pop in the new sun's weight

                                                    Fiddling crabs make sandball radiances

                                                    And sign, claws up, claws down—up down

                                                    Such summery pastimes

 

                                                    Crabs fill their bubbly mouths, fiddly twitter

                                                    Darting black fishies jump their panic

                                                    Over hot wavelets

                                                    Coursing by the mudskipper’s tail-lugged gape

                                                    In blithe trampers trampfoot print

 

                                                    The moon’s mass drag, look way down

                                                    Corals do appear, rock blue and life green

                                                    The jeweler’s shop unlocked

                                                    Sea skaters nip before a shadow

                                                    The long path beckons resumption

 

                                                    And there it is, eternally there,

                                                    Monolith

                                                    Seat of all woes, a navel vision dragged ever

                                                    Feet may fall on boulder paths or forest edge;

                                                    Conceal-less, peer-less, it dominates regard-less

 

                                                    Beached sat in attention consummation

                                                    The mountain on your right

                                                    Is forever within, the dark hold deep solid

                                                    Crabwork and fishleap are not to sway

                                                    Nor the pretty things nor ministrations of exercise

 

                                                    It must be left…

 

 

                                                    Climbing on the turn

                                                    The path will make

                                                    The back—to face its cognition

                                                    The path will take

                                                    The footsore on—into wild glades free

                                                    The path will wake

                                                    New sites—new bravery

                                                    The mountain is still there

                                                    But

                                                    Is no longer in sight

Buster

                                        Noble guardian of the besieged keep

                                            (Cringing coward at the first umbrella sighting)

                                        Advanced guard into the boar-filled underbrush

                                            (Earliest to flee at danger’s approach)

                                        Big Man of the Mountain – all on his path quake at his approach

                                            (Watch him instantly shy into the forest)

                                        Few deep barks mean hidden powers well kept

                                            (Transformer into a first thunderclap quivering quaker)

                                        The shadowed outlaw returned, restituted in human kindness

                                            (Insecure chicken dumping loyalty at the first stinking beached fish)

                                        Poor patient of heartworm and wounded flank soldiering on

                                            (Wincer at the briefest of nailtrim)

                                        My brave boy, my old friend, my pride and joy

                                            (My old stinking, maddeningly annoying and now sadly departed beauty)

 

                                        I so miss you. Always will.

Americano Coffee

                                        Fetters abound
                                        Strictly bound
                                        Within the head
                                        On tabletop dependency
                                        Gnash-gnash

                                            A fearsome deadline
                                            The call to nature daily, hourly
                                            Suffering in others
                                            The curative ensemble
                                            A deep sighing heart
                                            Abating the weapon of tears
                                            Conventional males,
                                            The prigs,
                                            Unconventional females,
                                            The prudes,
                                            Mr Bankbalancebastard
                                            Keeping harmony, for its own sake
                                            And the self—that awfulness behind the lids

                                        There is comfort in gnashing chains
                                        The prisoner's willing reincarceration
                                        Tap-tap on the waistline's revelation
                                        So, too many beers! Too bad

                                        Freedom's deceit
                                        Once again
                                        Is that the promise resounds
                                        In empty rooms
                                        And Americano coffee
                                        Grrrr...

Squally Assurances

                                        Raindrops compete for proximity

                                        Within the dewy confines of the shirt

                                        Altogether drip-trip double, the neck runs

                                        Pounded from above the lime tree-lined pathway

                                        The park’s sodden grassland gives way to quickmarsh

                                        Each milk coffee puddle churns to a bubble-popped sea

 

                                        In deeply thunderous rolls, away on the field-tops

                                        Jumping tears sound upon the river’s smoothness raised

                                        Down from heaven the tiller’s shift drops your storm

                                        This way now; be wet, and in the wetter shivers realise

                                        That Olympus hears all, but answers few, less so with favour

 

                                        They all pass, they move on, and they dry

                                        Grasses in green, thick oak velvet,

                                        As needful for it from drop-tipped fronds

                                        To the clutched grip-sure roots,

                                        These squally assurances allow the nameless and the named

                                        The power of a tomorrow, in rains today