Time & tide

Time moves

like the tide

 

in my dreams

it’s yesterday,

 

I say ‘Hello’

for the first time.

 

You dance

across a room

 

so high, the ceiling

drops to meet you

 

I, with sapphires

in my eyes

 

turn & walk away,

for the first time.

 

Poems knocking

in my head

 

round & round

I wait;

 

did you ever say,

‘’I love you’’?

 

Time moves

sand & tide

 

an ebb & flow

of drama,

 

once so clear

it seems

 

I’ve lost

all answers,

 

but time & tide

& years

 

have brought

you back

 

this way,

 

calling out

my name

 

this last time.

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Seaside

 

Old men walk

the sands

 

heads bent

body shrunk

 

shoulder hunched

against the wind.

 

Skaters skirt

children’s

 

scooters

 

&  the foghorn

warns of sea mist:

 

ice cream stand

hand in hand

 

the ghosts pass

safe in their

 

chosen

paradigm.

 

I’m sleeping

messages

 

from

beyond,

 

& you go on

believing

 

you’re

immortal.

Dearly departed.

 

The dead come

to call:

 

looking spritely

they bring the best

 

of themselves

stay to talk,

 

the sort of things

one says in dreams.

 

Here, immersed

in life; corroded

 

by the years,

it seems

 

that death’s

a living dream

 

a time warp

of each reality

 

the Wurlitzer turns

its own obscurity.

 

The dead come

to call: they bring

 

messages:

 

‘’write them down

don’t forget

 

you are the words

you leave behind

 

in other’s heads’’.

 

They who are

released,

 

have their new

songs,

 

not remembered

nuance,

 

nor ecliptic tune,

 

but wisdom

dearly bought

 

from passing

through

 

that final

country.

 

Sand flats

lie silver like

 

stretch marks

across the bay:

 

I think of you,

the old way

 

fondly:

neglect to call,

 

expose the  past

to spring pollen.

 

Sand underfoot

sun burns

 

light throws

leaf shadow

 

on times wall.

 

Our pocket

universe

 

has flown.

 

Birds nest;

blossom tumbles

 

spring wind’s

incoming.

 

 

Call me

 

This chill spring

takes no hostage

 

blossom hovers

on the brink

 

& every breath

is hard, rattles

 

through.

 

I’m closed

in from cold.

 

You called

again, as you

 

sometimes do,

 

& life peeled

back forty years

 

evoked us

shining new.

 

You found me

laughing, in that

 

turbo crowd:

our love a dream.

 

I remember

every charm

 

we stitched,

on our bracelet

 

of desire,

 

yet now we talk

of children,

 

grown & moved

away.

 

Your new love

cleaves to you,

 

like designer

lingerie,

 

& I fly free

as I always

 

promised to;

 

waiting for

sun’s molten

 

heart to

heal me.

 

.

Paul Seymour

There’s an ‘absence’

in the air

 

As if a puff

of sky has

 

skipped a beat,

swallowed a rainbow.

 

If memory is all

that’s left then

 

‘moment’ matters.

 

Sunlight on your hair

your human grace

 

that filled our hearts;

 

there’s ‘absence’

in the world today:

 

this spinning globe

of blue has broken

 

you:

 

I used to wonder

‘why’?

 

That mystery’s

now clear

 

we hold the key

as infinity

 

draws near

 

yet I didn’t hear

you going.

Who

We are

crumpled versions

 

of our

 

silk & satin

selves:

 

a blip in DNA

has washed

 

our youth away:

skin once taut

 

has melted

with the heat.

 

We are

crumpled versions

 

of our

 

silk & satin

selves

 

peering out

at someone

 

we once

knew.

 

We are

hidden

 

in these

craggy

 

cliffs & folds:

 

nothing

we can do

 

will rearrange

the change;

 

& those of us

who rushed

 

away,

 

are waving

wrinkle free

 

as life

defines us.

Solar flare

 

Sun spots

jet trails

 

early morning

fly by

 

clouds wander

left to right

 

&  the east wind

blows itself free

 

leaving us to try

another budding.

 

You gaze out

contained in

 

rectitude:

 

I’ll be with

you

 

by ‘n by:

 

sunlight

rain drop

 

turn you’ll catch

my sigh

 

eternity to

tell you

 

how I love

you.

 

Letter to beyond

(listen here)

 

There you are!

 

Appearing as if

twenty years

 

is just a day.

 

We talk of life,

not death:

 

the long sleep

that morphs us

 

back to sky dust.

 

We never mention

‘it’.

 

How you’ve missed

all the important things

 

drifting away like that

on wings of sleep.

 

This isn’t what I meant

to write, but time, distance,

 

have dissipated anger.

 

I can cry, but

can’t say your name.

 

Do you know why,

there is no why?

 

You said to try

& I have:

 

random circles

of ‘try’,

 

spiralling high wire

to high wire

 

finding meaning,

for others.

 

There you are,

young still;

 

I hope that I

arrive in your

 

next dream,

 

so pristine clean,

so smiley.