Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
6 May 2017
14 February 2016
31 July 2015
14 June 2015
16 March 2015
For Robin Oliphant 1933 - 2015
Today we say goodbye to Robin Oliphant, Artist (and Grandpa's wee brother) who died on Sunday 8th March at the age of 81.
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,
Nor yet regret the room you are to leave.
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Though going, and your imprint's loss offends,
And you ever reluctant to bereave,
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.
And if the blanket of the past descends,
Seduces you to sorrow and to grieve,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Those old men cashing wisdom's dividends,
Recalling what a foreguard can achieve,
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.
And, seeing with perception that transcends
The images myopic eyes perceive,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Consider then, as your last pace impends,
The greetings you are likely to receive.
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
The Magic Door
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,
Nor yet regret the room you are to leave.
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Though going, and your imprint's loss offends,
And you ever reluctant to bereave,
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.
And if the blanket of the past descends,
Seduces you to sorrow and to grieve,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Those old men cashing wisdom's dividends,
Recalling what a foreguard can achieve,
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.
And, seeing with perception that transcends
The images myopic eyes perceive,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Consider then, as your last pace impends,
The greetings you are likely to receive.
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
18 May 2014
Forgiveness
It seems appropriate to post the poem again here too. Jude x
A curtain corner raised,
I witnessed Jews,
enlightened since their passage
through the Auschwitz ovens,
rescuing former camp guards
from the stinking pits
remorse had dug for them.
I bring it to your attention
you bombers, you famine makers,
you adjusters of populations.
These children you kill
might learn, by this light,
a love which, brought to bear,
could drive you screaming mad.
14 April 2014
You
You
Cry rivers,
Rage rapids,
Croon the deep dark loch's
Eternal mystery.
You
Move and are
Like a glacier,
inexorable.
I
Am waist-deep
In you,
Heart-deep.
I
Drown gladly
In your discharges.
14 February 2014
Our Love
Not for nothing
did the love that we have known
last all these years.
It is no small thing -
though we be small -
the force that flashed between us
and went on.
Unattenuated by the law
of the inverse square
which gutters light
and is the quenching maw
of the magnetic spectrum,
our little fondnesses
which modulate love's carrier wave
are taken in an instant,
with no reference to velocity,
outwards in quantum leaps
to the very rim of time.
Any lovers anywhere
could tap and live our love
with just a prayer,
a suitable antenna,
and perhaps a flair
for frequency.
No!
It is no small thing,
our love,
our spiralling,
eternal
love.
did the love that we have known
last all these years.
It is no small thing -
though we be small -
the force that flashed between us
and went on.
Unattenuated by the law
of the inverse square
which gutters light
and is the quenching maw
of the magnetic spectrum,
our little fondnesses
which modulate love's carrier wave
are taken in an instant,
with no reference to velocity,
outwards in quantum leaps
to the very rim of time.
Any lovers anywhere
could tap and live our love
with just a prayer,
a suitable antenna,
and perhaps a flair
for frequency.
No!
It is no small thing,
our love,
our spiralling,
eternal
love.
26 September 2013
To a Descendant Reading My Poems
Looking for me?
I posed for posterity.
I used words to cover my tracks.
Did my sincerity
sufficiently conceal my truth?
Can you deduce what I was then
from idiosyncratic verses
and a few ambiguous titles?
Can you deduce what I am now
from what you have deduced from then?
Is that too much like sifting ancient light
to find a long-gone distant star?
Then, I was X (I marked my spot)
modified by youth and age and vanity
and love and suffering and indifference.
Now, I am X modified by my purposes,
as you are Y trapped in your own contexts.
I posed for posterity.
I used words to cover my tracks.
Did my sincerity
sufficiently conceal my truth?
Can you deduce what I was then
from idiosyncratic verses
and a few ambiguous titles?
Can you deduce what I am now
from what you have deduced from then?
Is that too much like sifting ancient light
to find a long-gone distant star?
Then, I was X (I marked my spot)
modified by youth and age and vanity
and love and suffering and indifference.
Now, I am X modified by my purposes,
as you are Y trapped in your own contexts.
Where X equals pure Me,
and Y equals pure You,
there is nothing stands between us,
only time.
only time.
(Happy Birthday Grandpa xxx)
9 April 2013
Forgiveness
Seems apt to post this again...upon the death of Margaret Thatcher
A curtain corner raised,
I witnessed Jews,
enlightened since their passage
through the Auschwitz ovens,
rescuing former camp guards
from the stinking pits
remorse had dug for them.
I bring it to your attention
you bombers, you famine makers,
you adjusters of populations.
These children you kill
might learn, by this light,
a love which, brought to bear,
could drive you screaming mad.
A curtain corner raised,
I witnessed Jews,
enlightened since their passage
through the Auschwitz ovens,
rescuing former camp guards
from the stinking pits
remorse had dug for them.
I bring it to your attention
you bombers, you famine makers,
you adjusters of populations.
These children you kill
might learn, by this light,
a love which, brought to bear,
could drive you screaming mad.
21 March 2013
Two Trees
Two trees in the garden,
rowan side by side with oak.
They have grown together,
roots inextricably twined,
branches so interlaced
the proper season seems to produce
the berried oak,
the acorned rowan,
the shield each other from the wind
and share the rain. At a lost limb
the phantom fingers of the amputee
still feel the itch of the other's
shivering proximity.
His rising sap inflames
her bright capillaries.
She sheds her crimson benison
around his feet. He feeds her acorns.
Each brings the other to perfection-
perfect spirit of tree
which occupies the space of both,
oakrowan, rowanoak.
rowan side by side with oak.
They have grown together,
roots inextricably twined,
branches so interlaced
the proper season seems to produce
the berried oak,
the acorned rowan,
the shield each other from the wind
and share the rain. At a lost limb
the phantom fingers of the amputee
still feel the itch of the other's
shivering proximity.
His rising sap inflames
her bright capillaries.
She sheds her crimson benison
around his feet. He feeds her acorns.
Each brings the other to perfection-
perfect spirit of tree
which occupies the space of both,
oakrowan, rowanoak.
27 January 2013
Forgiveness
A curtain corner raised,
I witnessed Jews,
enlightened since their passage
through the Auschwitz ovens,
rescuing former camp guards
from the stinking pits
remorse had dug for them.
I bring it to your attention
you bombers, you famine makers,
you adjusters of populations.
These children you kill
might learn, by this light,
a love which, brought to bear,
could drive you screaming mad.
3 October 2012
Lover's Moon
I thought that, when at last
men walked upon the moon
and radiated back
the arid data stream,
poetic lovers everywhere
would lose love's potent symbol.
In the event, pragmatic men
looked back across the void
to earth and saw
raw poetry.
28 August 2012
Joining
We loved, with our bodies,
For the last time,
Climaxed together,
Lay silently clasped
Within, around each other,
Letting the weld cure.
The new emergent pulse
Was the algebraic sum
Of our two heartbeats,
The slower wave,
Our alpha rhythms
Heterodyning.
We were an engine
Of latent growth,
Of humming potential,
A chrysalis, quiescent,
Waiting the last catalyst
To unfurl the bright wings.
For the last time,
Climaxed together,
Lay silently clasped
Within, around each other,
Letting the weld cure.
The new emergent pulse
Was the algebraic sum
Of our two heartbeats,
The slower wave,
Our alpha rhythms
Heterodyning.
We were an engine
Of latent growth,
Of humming potential,
A chrysalis, quiescent,
Waiting the last catalyst
To unfurl the bright wings.
19 August 2012
Love's Surgery
My lover
turned away from me
and slept
leaving the scalpel
silently dissecting
my heart.
turned away from me
and slept
leaving the scalpel
silently dissecting
my heart.
18 August 2012
To A Married Lady
When we made love illicitly last night
Enclosed within the enclave of my dream,
Perforce I used imagination's flight
To raise those secret parts I have not seen.
But when the wine of fantasy is quaffed,
The real that I remember is, you laughed.
Enclosed within the enclave of my dream,
Perforce I used imagination's flight
To raise those secret parts I have not seen.
But when the wine of fantasy is quaffed,
The real that I remember is, you laughed.
17 August 2012
Old Wounds
The spoil of life and time
Erased your face, your flame,
The body's feel, the chime
of voice, even your name
Would take a dredge of memory
To resurge. And yet the blaze
Of our insanity
Can, at this distance, raise
A half-forgotten strand,
A sensual silken fichu,
A half-remembered hand
Upon the heart's scar tissue.
I feel the knife that flensed
And flayed and left me crying.
I tense again against
That ancient dying.
Erased your face, your flame,
The body's feel, the chime
of voice, even your name
Would take a dredge of memory
To resurge. And yet the blaze
Of our insanity
Can, at this distance, raise
A half-forgotten strand,
A sensual silken fichu,
A half-remembered hand
Upon the heart's scar tissue.
I feel the knife that flensed
And flayed and left me crying.
I tense again against
That ancient dying.
16 August 2012
Lover's Moon
I thought that, when at last
men walked upon the moon
and radiated back
the arid data stream,
poetic lovers everywhere
would lose love's potent symbol.
In the event, pragmatic men
looked back across the void
to earth and saw
raw poetry.
men walked upon the moon
and radiated back
the arid data stream,
poetic lovers everywhere
would lose love's potent symbol.
In the event, pragmatic men
looked back across the void
to earth and saw
raw poetry.
15 August 2012
The Healer
Hand me your hurt.
I will wear it briefly
And throw it to the wind.
Pour me your poisons.
I will be a filter
For your essences.
Give me your grief.
There's an astonishment
Of solace in my hands.
Leave me your love.
It will make a chisel
And I will sculpt you God.
9 August 2012
The Magic Door
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,
Nor yet regret the room you are to leave.
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Though going, and your imprint's loss offends,
And you ever reluctant to bereave,
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.
And if the blanket of the past descends,
Seduces you to sorrow and to grieve,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Those old men cashing wisdom's dividends,
Recalling what a foreguard can achieve,
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.
And, seeing with perception that transcends
The images myopic eyes perceive,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Consider then, as your last pace impends,
The greetings you are likely to receive.
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Nor yet regret the room you are to leave.
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Though going, and your imprint's loss offends,
And you ever reluctant to bereave,
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.
And if the blanket of the past descends,
Seduces you to sorrow and to grieve,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Those old men cashing wisdom's dividends,
Recalling what a foreguard can achieve,
Step lightly through the magic door to friends.
And, seeing with perception that transcends
The images myopic eyes perceive,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
Consider then, as your last pace impends,
The greetings you are likely to receive.
Step lightly through the magic door to friends,
Dream more of new beginnings than of ends.
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