P.S.H

you have left the circus
but not the lounge,
guilty press noses
peering through steamed windows
as they feel the pressure of their burdens,
languish if you will
in knowing you imprinted
with a certain resonance
and we shall still converse,
language of the cornea,
visual impacting and verbal debauchery,
each pronunciation
earth to my ears
thrum and fertile,
so say hello now and then
on the ten thirty timeslot,
and i will watch,
so long fellow man
so long cineamatic soul

 

Phillip Seymour Hoffman

fall frodsham hill

in autumn time
leaves melted
dripping down,
catching in our hair
golden sugar droplets
in ceaseless cascade,
hand in hand
only cool air between us
birds gave last song
before the encroaching winter
i could look to my side
see her and still know
the reason for my breath
and last two decades,
it was a leap
as great as a stags
that my heart did,
clasping hand tighter
reassurance that all this
was permanent

http://dversepoets.com/

19 Years

my thoughts assembled

the largest of them all

was one of knowing

billowing fulfilled,

she was more than a voice

heard on the soundscape

of my ears

this thought entitled me

to love to adore,

between sun and moon

a radiance of woman,

my sky lead a path

to a new future,

behind doors within

my skull

songs rung out

telling me of what i was aware

we wanted the journey to begin

more than love, more than lust

bonded and entwined,

time is better

with a companion

and mine travels well

Karen and Me

Today our anniversary and still in love more than ever

Wanderings with Chris, Alex, Elisabeth……..Cumbria

Wanderings with Chris, Alex, Elisabeth……..Cumbria.

sucking in breath

sunburnt man

wretched and weary

beneath light and rain,

thunder smelled of goatskin

and musky aftershave,

steps taken like a drunk

falling on his own

sky crossed with jets

over the park

those travelling to another

countries sun to relax,

as slowly it ceased

shimmering haze

brought glare to eyes

worn with failing status

once he was among the rest

spewing from subway to curb

urgent and despairing

eager to get home,

that place with a yard

spill of ivy

trimmed lawn,

but that page had turned

fortune walked away like

everyone else,

yet his eyes sparkled

renewed vigor in his step,

he saw the torture he once

experienced,

now he belonged to no one

bank, employer, wife

even country,

he was an independent state

 

boots that find the future

these boots

at the side of my bed

talk of a journey

dust and tall grass,

feeling within

bare swollen flesh

feeling grief for the pain

as to get where i am

the walk was long

to raise money

find work,

work that had no outcome

but minimum pay,

no chance to drink

cheap liquor,

or bask in long drawn sun,

purpose and emotion

gathered as my supports,

now resting

bills and change on

bedside cabinet,

boots feel pleased

for what they had

done

 

blurring lines

i left the amniotic starship

landing on candlewick bedspread

unseen behind lace curtains

a sheltered birth,

dad notched his baseball bat

i was number three,

his way of memory

like folded candy wrappers

that something special,

a silent childhood

passed in grey school solitude

born invisible,

home the only place

colors came into appearance

becoming animation

voices and gestures

of laughter and song,

we breathed from

leonard cohens lungs

songs that filled the complete

with mothers long fingered

touch that was protective,

as a notch on a baseball bat

i would not be whittled away,

looking back

i could only think of the

new colors i had found

in my own home

 

 

Journeyman

Ivan Hare 18/06/27-09/01/13

 

Journeyman

travel not far from my side

alone you will never be,

a dream connects

heart will talk,

deep valleys will not contain

mists draw across

by fingertip i will find,

life a container

a shell that holds

essence and essential you,

written on memory

indelible unsmudged

now slipped

will not escape my grasp

i feel you

as on new travels

across tides

that will wash my cheeks,

will see you

as a new shadow at my side

never forgotten

for my father Ivan Hare son of Wilfred Hare and Nellie Cubbin a fantastic father and friend loved and missed

Giving

she put her hand upon his chest,

felt the movement

something inside,

beneath flesh wrapping

and bone protection,

a beating heart

gift wrapped in his  warmth

love and security,

it was for her,

tatooed hallmark

her name imprinted

seared as a lasting impression,

to her touch

it revealed a long and

future life,

of happiness and

everyday happenings,

lost socks and incidental kisses,

that was all she needed

an aortic ruby,

wrapped in the one gift

she loved

life

 

 

 

1926 after D.H

we are among the ruins

and could return to life again,

it was their natural atmosphere

not daunted by either art or ideal politics

out in the open world,

she could use her sexuality to have power over him,

her orgasm and her crisis

amazing, the profound

fulfilled before they knew promise

a vibrating thrill inside the body

and the soul she could not get rid of,

succumbed to the strange male power

a well bred social anarchy

one of the curious obsolete,

she went by without looking at them,

alone he was a lost thing

whole act took place in a vacuum,

why should they last

with layers of dissolution

like geological strata,

sideways, and downwards the light fell on him

he was burningly, poignantly grateful for these

pieces of natural

as was his outcast soul,

they lit the candles in the hall

of unfinished tender flesh

an erasure poem derived from a novel that caused much controversy D H Lawrence Lady Chatterlys Lover