NIGHT AND DAY

And all the day
The wind cries out
You're ill
While raindrops splash
Closed windows
With the grime
Of foul pollutants
Burned some other time
That no one owned
And no one ever will.

Then comes the night
Of loudness like land mines
Exploding up
With echoes through the dark,
Anonymous,
They fail to leave a mark
Except on peaceful sleep
And glad dream times.

And all the day

The wind cries out

You're ill ...

OLD SONGS

 “The crow that flew over us … will tell about us in the town.”  (Forough Farrokhzad, ‘Conquest of the Garden’)

Certain music drives me back

All the way

To the wanderer

That I was

Before money bid me

Dance to its beat and sway

And the wealthy

Condemned me to be poor.

I remember

When our hearts were touched

With fire from flames eternal

(That later turned infernal).

Lighting up the night

We blazed like burning stars

In the black crows’ sky above,

White-hot in the zeal

Of our requited love.

I remember all this,

And more than this,

I remember you,

That last time that we kissed,

Your final phone call,

And your face

Across the street

In the traffic crawl

Of an orange taxi fleet.

How I wish

I had leaped

To my feet

And run

To rescue you

From what was to come.

SOU'EASTER

I watched the storm strut

On the sea’s edges,

At first far-off icy chops,

Chilly sprays,

Steered by a wind,

Once lord of freezing days

In Antarctica’s wild mounts and wedges.

That sou’easter blew the white water on

Towards the shore

Across the sapphire blues,

Then rain fell from skies blackened like a bruise,

As if morning’s warm sun had never shone.

AFTER LIFE

In that single moment

Before the end

Is there only the past,

Old marred memoirs,

And no future,

No such thing as again,

No way to grow,

And no new repertoires?

If the years ahead

Belong to the rest,

Then they will all gradually forget

The times

When you were there

Amongst the blessed.

They’ll move on and prosper
Without regret.

You'll be in a silent film

Degrading

Through mistaken recall,

Discarded takes,

Intentions misjudged,

Legacy fading -

Memories of you

Transformed into crude fakes.

But then again
You might travel to find
The sweetest places
Of your explorations -
Those haunting sites
And dearest destinations -
And the ones you loved
Who left you behind.

FOOL MOON

There are days

When sorrows wake up with you.

Last night’s moon haunts you

Like a fool’s mirror,

Reflecting lights

That you must misconstrue -

Reminders that madness has stepped nearer.

These are your random days of dire distress,

Regrets without meaning,

Pointless despair,

Hollow hot tears that scorch,

Bid you repress

Sanguine thoughts

Of others who might still care.

And when the sadness lifts

You will wonder

Where it went

And when it plots to return.

But for now

Your heart quakes,

Split asunder,

Although it beats,

The pulse stings like a burn.

REPETITION

Sometimes I think I’m trapped,

Living my life

Over again

In all its worst phases,

As if I longed

For yet more grief and strife

And craved

Crusty old fashions and crazes.

Perhaps it is old age,

Senility;

A depleted,

Poorly encrypted mind

That once bounced,

No, leapt with agility,

And tried and tried

To triumph from behind.

Maybe it is regret,

Guilt from neglect,

Flowers never bestowed,

Promises wrecked,

Happy houses now empty,

Derelict,

Blatant failure,

Foul disgrace,

Chopped and necked.

More than likely

It’s my discarded dreams,

Ghastly nightmares

That plague my pious nights,

And bid me swim again

In lukewarm streams

Of long ago

And far away love’s heights.

TWO-BLUED

Rose coloured glass,
Like shades you always wore;
Sunset's hand
Brushes two-blued daytime's sky
Into yellow and red
And even more,
While the creamy,
Sandy shore
Fades nearby.

Sometimes
Amongst wispy,
Distant small clouds
I can,
I think,
Make out pictures
Of you.
They face
The fleeting sun
Unbowed and proud,
Turned gold,
Like your honey-sweet
Warmest hue.