I began writing poetry as a teenager and never stopped. I read poetry, my all-time favourites, are Marina Tsvetaeva from Russia and well, dozens of others.
Lady
Prophecy
Lies
In her grave
People forget
She’s gone now
People forget
Her name
But sometimes
In a mirror
That appears
In the sky
People seem to shiver
As a bird flies by
Lady prophecy
Dead
A million hours
She’s there
Beneath the flowers
So unreal
But sometimes
In blue water
A spirit sees his daughter
And he cries
And he cries
Lady
Prophecy
They search
For the door
To thee
They open up the door to see
Whatever will
Have to be
Kay sa rar, sa rar
Kay sa rar sa rar
The bridge is getting higher
It goes above the sky
So how can I cross the river
Or get to the other side
The rivers getting faster
Flowing back into the past
So how can I cross the river
To the land that always lasts
Time has up and died
It ended in my eyes
So how can I cross the river
When I can neither live nor die
God has made the river flow
Faster than I’d even know
Further than the sea
Higher than the snow
Memories are dancing
They never even sink
Only they can cross the river
Only they can cross the brink
This must be the wasteland
That I walk upon
Funny how it first appeared
Funny now it’s gone
Covered now by bird wings
That fly and sing their song
This must be the wasteland
That I walk upon
A hundred years ago
There was a battle here
The sky alone remembers
The blood washed down by tears
Covered now by visions
That the angels left behind
This must be a wasteland
That I walk upon
This must be the wasteland
That bloody awful battleground
This is where the waste ground
Consumed in fire
Look at it now –
And do not cry
This must be the wasteland that I’m on
This must be the wasteland
Converted into farmland
Funny how it still seems bad
To walk here and not feel sad
Covered over now by gravestones
Windblown corpses all alone
This must be the wasteland
That I’m on
You enter the theatre and you find your place
The setting is in darkness
A lion like beast can be seen skulking y the far edge
It is attacked by another larger beast
This image of violence takes centre stage now
The second beast is on the back of the first
Sinking its sharp fangs into the nape of the first ones neck
It will not die quickly
The second beast bites harder and harder
A jeer goes up
Don’t let the first beast die like this
They somehow float up into the sky
Some men maybe angels come to the rescue
One takes the front paw of the second beast
One takes the other paw and they pull the limbs in opposite directions
The second beast has to let go now
As soon as it is pulled off of the first beast
An explosion above our heads
Both beasts seem to have exploded
Fire and charcoal and soot rain down on our heads
The curtain closes
Wipe away the past and start again
Living life as if we’re aged only nine or ten
When we’d hardly heard of armies, parties of famous men
And the just wars were an unknown sea in a camera lens
Remembering how slow was the pace of the human race
And in between our steps the wild flowers grow
And there was time to look at one another without any haste
And to find out all you needed to know
Nowadays only the wind has time to rest
On a quiet day it settles in the empty sparrows nest
While man will climb over each other’s backs
In the race to get to the moon and back
So wipe away the past and start again
Begin without the walls that we’ve had to defend
Start as if the rain had just gone away
Start again and build a brand new day
Or soon there’ll be no time to write a song
Fall in love or learn how to belong
Or soon there’ll be no time to look at the stars
Or play children’s games or have children’s fun
Life goes into the conjurer’s cabinet and he cuts it in two. You run to get the bus. He opens the cabinet to show the head smiling, the feet wriggling. You run through a glass arcade of night. The children watch in awe. On the work shop floor you run like a shackled puppet through buzz saws of all emotion and emerge in slices. Children’s games are all that’s left that’s whole.
A ship is made of two eyelids that open up the sky and an enormous eyeball stares down at you. Do you see the conveyer belt that the sunlight arrives on. The wind blows a large leaf into your face. With a pair of scissors you cut the moon out of the sky and paste it into your pillow book. Higher and higher you go as if separated from the earth. Your bank balance is exhausted and you fall suddenly into the swimming pool.
India overtakes Brazil
In the race of death
The world
Is an onion
And India
Cries many tears
Independence
Came at a price
And is spent
On ride
Cry India cry
Your house is on fire
And all your children
Are gone
Goes he old song
You do not
Fight rifle against rifle
You fight
Lung against virus
And virus wins
Against
pride and rifles
This may be a poem by an idiot
But the sentiment is genuine
The gym
Isn’t part of nature
You rarely find
A potted plant
Amongst
The cycle machines
The gym
Is made
From old plans
For train wheels
Forklift trucks
And escalators
They have
nothing to do
with nature
Running around
In our natural environment
Is getting to be taboo
It’s best profited
To go to the gym
That isn’t part of nature
Where you’ll be safe
From the bites of squirrels
The claws of birds
And the stings of bees
We’ve got
sunny rainclouds
in our hearts
Our hearts
are a cerulean blue
We’ve got
sunny rainclouds
in our hearts
Accepted
Nothing we can do
You might need
a bit of rain
on a sunny day
You might need
the sun to shine
thru the rain
May I recommend to you
sunny rainclouds
sunny rainclouds
of cerulean blue
I met a shadow
In a corner
I said
Shadow, how are you
He said
That he has depression
He wants some sunny rain
In cerulean blue
I met
A ghost
In the desert
I said
Well
How do you do?
He said
It’s too hot
Where he’s going
He wanted
Some sunny rainclouds
Of cerulean blue
for Katy Claire
Sadness
it is a constant process
yes
you have to keep it rolling
al the time
Sadness
it is a constant process
you have to keep it rolling
to make it mine
it is not so bad
it’s not so good
it’s just a feeling
to feel better than you should
its made of the different colours
from the rain
you add some good
you add some bad
you add some happy
you add some pain
Sadness
is a constant process
yes
you have to keep it rolling
both day and night
you take some good
of what you feel
you take some bad
you keep rolling
to combine
if you do that, what
do you have
a feeling that is
more good than bad
and that’s not so bad
for Hettie
