so long I have waited
listening for a footfall at the door
now in that very listening
am assured
that You have never left this house at all
for one second
but have in all this time
been overlooked
simply ignored
Tag: love
garden of stones
I opened the gate
on a garden of stones
at a house on the edge of the world
surrounded by love
and the darkness of night
the uncomplicated attention
of quiet things
always
like someone
throwing the curtains open
on a glorious summer day
it has always been this way
letter to none
I never wrote to you –
perhaps I should
love ties rope round
and then it pulls
leaves us stretching
like a kid under a tree
for one bright apple
nobody sees
I don’t like apples –
never did
don’t eat fruit much
and won’t until
sweet berries lean
towards my door
and that will happen
to me no more
crumbs
when the pheasant hit the window
we were eating cake
lemon crumbs on our lips
I could have kissed you
but didn’t
[first posted 23 May 2015]
Three Sea Tales
1. The Death of Gulls
Like hail they fell,
in numbers uncountable,
leaving no one left to wail but me,
Godless upon an iron sea.
After the storm I was cut adrift,
me a mid-shipman,
ten days out to sea,
and never a sight of land for me,
nor woman’s touch,
but her dark eyes
swam before me all the way
to the whirlpool at the end of days
where under a glowering sky,
still beardless,
I died the death of gulls.
This sea-tale I recount,
by way of settlement
to the God that has deserted me
this seventeenth day of May,
Seventeen hundred and fifty three.
Now the Devil take me.
2. The Last Island
The storm levelled the house
and I raised sail;
made for the last island of all.
Seven days have now passed,
my boat lies broken on the beach
and I lay dying of love.
In my own blood I write this scrawl
and face my God alone:
my maker,
and my unmaker,
Lord of the Last Island.
3. The Voyage Out
On the voyage out, we were becalmed
for seven days and nights,
one for each decade of an old soak’s life.
Untouched by either current or breeze,
by degrees, I grew mad
so that when the wind did whisper to me,
it was in sea dreams I could not read;
strange alphabet, strange tongue,
not known to me, or anyone,
hieroglyphs on the pavements of a seaside town,
out of season all year round.
And there I was delayed,
incanting, have remained,
casting back these stones into the sea,
words formed in extremity,
holding back the one thing I could read:
“Oh why hast Thou forsaken me?”
stocks and bonds
the time we spent together
is permanent
not to fade
for I wear you like a watermark
and sorrow
love’s stock in trade
a flutter of wings
bridge between two islands
a place of meeting
and of tryst
touching
and desiring
and doing without
things are not the same
now
I garden
read
never looking up
even at
a flutter of wings
the coat
he disliked the coat he had been given
but wore it because he had no other
it had been made with love
and given with love
but only when it was worn through
did he learn to love it himself
the jar
I found an old jar in her kitchen
that for long had remained unused
it was like one I remembered from childhood
that I used to cling on to
the trees in my mother’s garden were many and beautiful
though she lived in a small apartment
by the sea
of the silent guest at her table
she would talk to her family
yes the trees in my mother’s garden were beautiful
but the jar
I threw into the sea
of the silent guest at her table
the sea has no memory
