Wild Orchestra
January 28, 2014
We exist
within a wild orchestra of sounds, shapes and colors. A fearsome creation of ecstasy and pain.
Month: January 2014
Ethnic Cafeteria
January 24, 2014
During a spring shower in Holland Park,
I take shelter in clamorous chatter
Of an ethnic cafeteria,
buy orange juice and chocolate,
drink coffee from a paper cup.
After the rain; the scent of tree-lined paths.
Bright green leaves drip on rainbows of tulips
in rectangle boxes of damp earth beds.
On a long wooden bench in the water garden,
two men eat white bread sandwiches spread
on newspaper laps.
Watch the three-tiered fountain splash lily pads
like diamonds in a dance.
Some of the shrubs are still here, he said.
Spring bulbs multiply every year.
Even after the big storm,
most of the trees remain,
but it’s not the same.
All these people,
and no-one to remember my name.
The ground remembers,
His companion said.
The ground remembers everything.
Every step, and every stone.
Every flower, and every tree.
Even you and me.
First published in ‘Listening To…
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Standing Stones
January 23, 2014
Shhhhh………listen,
said the sea.
Can you hear the ghosts of war on the tide,
carried back and forth
from other times, other centuries.
Rocks,
soaked in sorrow,
like tomb-stones littered on the shingle.
Who will save our souls,
cry the ghosts.
Nest
January 20, 2014
Listening
January 19, 2014
Will you listen with me,
to the gusting breeze
dashing over hawthorn bushes.
To sea-smacks on the rocks below the cliff.
To the hum of engines trawling the mist
like a lost soul.
Concerto
January 17, 2014
Seagull,
in perfect time
to Chopin’s Piano Concerto.
Bird
January 12, 2014
While sitting in the gazebo in Gill’s garden,
I saw a little bird in the tree.
But on closer inspection, it was simply a leaf.
All is not what it appears to be,
but one way or another,
real or imagined,
Gill was here,
through me.
Masked Native 
