Binding

What binds us,

is not

 

blood & bone & tears

 

it’s not, a golden ring

or common history

 

it isn’t pitter pat

of children’s feet:

 

what binds us is

stardust lost between

 

the mystery of sleep

the bright awakening.

 

A hand upon a cheek

 

a whispered prayer

your ankle touching me.

 

It can’t be stored

for future gain

 

or dusted down

& packed away.

 

What binds us is this

moment

 

lost between

 

the echo of the owl

night rain on shutters

 

a drowsy glance

your face in sleep:

 

& lest I settle for another,

a love less deep

 

what binds us here

as lovers

 

we cannot grasp

& keep

 

it is settled in the

chambers of my heart

 

it beats its own

sweet beat

 

that Universe

remembers.

 

 

 

Helix

 

We cannot touch

what we have left behind:

 

tears and years have fled

in drama. No regrets

 

‘’No regrets’’

 

She dips her head &

sighs!

 

A lie!

 

We cannot smell the scent

of yesterday, those summer’s

 

stretch behind like lace:

a dragonfly, a hummingbird

 

a beach of coral, so many

’You’’ & ‘’I’’ 

 

I try to listen to those years

a snatch of song, a young man’s

 

stride; a key in yielding lock

a whisper in the night.

 

We cannot see, what’s left behind

a solstice moon, a furtive fox

 

my dreams, where love comes back

to haunt me.  A photo in a frame,

 

those struggles to the death have

vanished now in peace.

 

Here time marks us with its stamp

so dearly won.

 

I cannot taste you now

a sherbet in the shade

 

a hint of salt

on waning wave

 

I cannot reach you now

but with these words

 

gently.

 

 

Revisit

 

It used to be

ecstatic:

 

a feast of flesh

served upon

 

a plate of love.

 

It used to be

sensuality’s serendipity,

 

nor does my memory

exaggerate the way

 

I found you beautiful.

 

That look that lingered

on your face,

 

the race of heartbeats,

touch of skin on skin

 

electrified my life

& left my pulses

 

whirring.

 

But now it’s more like

shaking hands:

 

although, still we slot

cracks & crevices

 

we forgot, fit cleverly

together.

 

Yes, now it’s more

what love is not

 

& where we’ve been,

between,

 

has left an imprint

we can’t blot, now love

 

has run,

 

at last the muse

has left us.

Summer tangle

 

I tangled with

the long grass

 

arms cut red:

criss cross

 

stripes of

holding life.

 

My garden is

a wild thing

 

escaping into

luxury,

 

of iris, rose  &

lemon tree.

 

I tangle in

the long grass

 

like lovers arms

it wrestles

 

a caress,  &

sunrise leaves

 

an orange glow.

I move from east

 

to west,  lavender

raises musky head

 

reborn in summer’s

splendour.

 

Fantasy

 

 

You hold me

like a book:

 

turning pages

searching image

 

hoping for a glance

I can’t reveal.

 

The clock ticks on

it’s midnight now

 

we talk on superhighway

peeling skin for bone,

 

my pages thin

& fragile

 

crushed to dust

by other loves.

 

You’re searching

for a meaning

 

the hollow of your

heart bleeds desire

 

& I fly out of print

confounded

 

by the satire

sold as love.

 

You hold me

like a book

 

I lean to catalogue

the moment.

 

Chapter heading

full stop.

 

End of line

hidden in your

 

beautiful

black eyes.

Blood fire

Blood fire

we cannot call it

by another name

 

recognition:

deep stab

in the heart of things.

 

Blossom blazes

for a day

confetti pink.

 

Blood fire:

here mediocre

stalks the edge

 

of chaos.

 

Dictators dirge

& politicians ply

platitude

 

while nations

burn.

 

But you & I

conspire

consumed

 

in red fire

unasked for.

 

Pink moon

Full moon casts

no shadow, pulls

 

water from our cells

leaving only madness.

 

No shadow on

a purple lawn

 

tulips eerie white

in the lamp light

 

night memory

haunts me.

 

Room sweats

blossom’s orange bloom

 

Mediterranean tresses.

Fingers of the East

 

pull me towards

another dawn

 

rocked in Earth’s

crucible.

Bereft

My muse has fled

she’s flicked her hair

 

& disappeared.

 

She’s sick of

faithless lovers

 

rainy days,

the tick, tock,

 

of mortality.

 

My muse has left

she’s whirling with

 

the kestrel, & I’m

chasing sunbeams

 

a golden pathway

left by winged feet

 

wide expanse of

blue blue yonder

 

where the light

glistens.

Lemon tree

 

Lemon blossom sweet

at my window

 

far from Spanish hills

you bloom

 

I whisper to you

apologise for the pinch

 

of English spring:

no coronet of sun

 

to crown your

pretty head.

 

Your essence

soothes me.

 

Citrus scent

with undertone

 

of musk,

you must

 

miss your lovers.

 

Over on my sill

orange stares

 

at you,

less abandoned

 

compact & smugly

fruiting.

 

 

Who ever

Who, ever thought

we’d live this long

 

grow grey & jowly

our spirits tired of

 

fighting.

 

‘’Forever’’ was

a misused word

 

bandied on the stage

of youth.

 

Here I watch the trees

watch, before & after me.

 

Those games we played

the songs we chose

 

to cleave to:

 

our children grown

from playing at our knees

 

are strangers now.

 

We never knew

we’d grow this old

 

our poets’ hearts

still singing, laughing

 

at the soft creep

of years.