Sunday, December 17, 2017

Loss


It’s leaving
Was wistful.
Noticed more
Gone, than in
The going.

Dogma dulled
As doubt’s
Inevitability
Eroded creedal
certainty

Prayers, first
Abbreviated,
Grew silent
Tired of
Echoing words

I do not
Grieve my loss
Gritted memories
Of a more
Gullible time

Yet still, some
Sunday evenings
In the silence
I hear those
Echoes of

Faith’s blind
Certainty, her
Blissful confidence
In the inclusion of
Being the called

Somewhere
On this journey
At some point
I lost my faith,
Yet,

I am not lost
For in the loosing
I have learnt,
To be content in
Uncertain doubt


Friday, December 8, 2017

The Wall


The sunlight, dances
On your cheek

You think, I am
Psychoanalysing you

What I cannot speak
Silent must remain

The tremor of
Time warping
Fractures reality
Or is it
Fantasy?

Did once
I know you?

Did once, we
Dance with
Swords?

Cold kiss
Of metal, penetrating
What desire
Could not do

Your fierceness
Unabated, grown
More subtle
Over years

Now you
Penetrate
With words
These walls
Of mine

We waltz
With glances
Heated with
Desire, and
Laugh to cover
Our lust

Where once
Your sword
Slit me
Now words
Undo me

The sunlight dances
On your cheek

While I retreat
Behind this wall
Of mine

What I want to say

Silent must remain.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

Hyde Park


Leaves tinseled
With sunlight
Whisper above me
While wisps of
Wind frolic
Amongst branches
Swaying in
Symphonic irritation

I lie below
Reflecting
What is above
Not the tinselling
Or the frolicking
Nor the whispering
But the
Symphonic irritation

The symphonic
Irritation of
Nerves stretched
Taunt, over strung
And tightened
Twang against
The metallic tones
Of muted skies.