Anxieties
I saw a knot of knots on sea
knotting and re-knotting,
yes, a great Gordian* dragon
in the puzzle of a sky;
yet whether such sight
was simply a symbol
that deep called to me -
I turned then to my Daddy
still, monocular to eye.
But Daddy decades gone
and mother, strong, Operatic
Romance, in dusk years,
now bent-backed, bowed
though chuckling still sharp
in dignity sleeping in warm
bed foot of that tall summit
we all must climb - and may
she take her time; may
we all, all take our time.
.................
*The Gordian knot was one which couldn't be untied. Knots are birds that gather in great flocks during winter months.
.................
‘Love You To’*
Being here is everything,
cheek warmed by the sun.
Now I am poor I measure
lack of pain as pleasure
and the sun my treasure;
pushing pen, not pumping iron,
crafting poems, not chopping food,
posting a verse, not banging that siren.
It’s strange where fate leads;
and how re-shape our needs:
firm limbs pruned, cut back
yet feather out another track.
It would be foolish to expect
poetry for ever: any day fecked
by new patterns in weather.
Global warming may yet come
to me: some busty woman fool
me back to Aphrodite’s school,
Eros dawning. I get it while I can,
poetry, sun, spill out these beans,
indeed ‘before I’m an old man’.
..................
* Track title from ‘Revolver’: Beatles.
YOU ARE READING
Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
