Words That Change

Posts Tagged ‘poem’

Journey to and within the sea

In Uncategorized on 30 December, 2012 at 16:07

I want to cleanse the patterns of my thought before the years end. I write in symbols because they de-personalise the situation and make this a better communication.  The details can fade and we are friends again. I want to be sinless, stainless, immersed in love that welcomes any pain or hurt, has courage in the face of bitter tears, friendship in its whole, understands life as a passing breeze, a teasing to wet my lips, and those lips not need to reach to kiss. Be comfortable with being touched. I do not pretend to live this life, but I can write about it and through writing perhaps inch my life towards effortless peace – erase the clinging that prevents love from romancing with itself.

I write in a melancholy voice. It is one of cleaning, of revolving loss. It stands on the precipice of death. Not a physical one, do not be concerned, but death as a release from all fear, even love itself and life becomes a dance. How to be so convinced of that love that can carry us though the dark places and not, like Orpheus, look back for fear of losing our recalimed lover? To walk on unrelentingly. To be peaceful and walk through violent scenes. To not react, but participate. To stay single-focused on one’s own (only) goal and not be mute, or an island to others.

I know how to run, how to withdraw. I know how to wither and hold up my hand to prevent you talking. I know the shallowness of your words prevent me from listening, I know my ears have not been trained to hear your heart. I am able to write for myself. For others with more difficulty. It was difficult in that first conversation to understand what you meant and I grabbed on to it too strongly. I present my ideas as more important than yours. An evaluation that is hard to live up to when all the crumbs have spilled on to the table and the crow pecks wilfully with sharper discernment than you or I could have. In any case it happens it is just that I must not take these things so personally.

I cannot believe I have been withered by your opinion. Really dented and this affected most other areas of my life. Writing comes from a delicate place than needs further walking into if it is not to be damaged repeatedly: depersonalisation again. I need space to be creative and to deliver on time. I would like to see more of you, my special friend. I would like to know who you are and communicate properly. Indeed there are many who communicate like this. Who, when I speak with you, is like touching my own heart. The pearls amongst the mound of barley. Is it possible to be selective without being judgemental? Or not feel guilty because I cannot keep the company of everyman? Perhaps it’s better not to be so definite about it. I really am better off alone. Alone and not know the difference between the forest and the crowd. To not know those steaming aches that tie to me the sofa. To not know your voice. To cast on it impressions that move you further from me. I must stop performing or you’ll never know my real face. I will not know yours and like islands even the sea will seem a strange phenomenon. We would rather see it separate than combine.

I have read 100, 000 stories. I consume symbols daily that transform patterns of thought into mirages, break open seals to help me in to the honey jar. And yet I resist dissolution in that….green and wondrous sea. There always seems something else to pick up, to carry over. Extraordinary the process of becoming naked when all that is needed is to jump in and be refreshed. Clothes dissolve immediately and the cold salt refreshes parts I could not have been aware to reach. The perineum, the eyelash, the wrinkle behind my right big toe. The symbol dissolves the vessel that once broken is understood to have been possible only fleetingly. Incredible that its image persisted for so long. And now I am free and passing through, like dew hastening on a mountainside into a stream, to join the river of many others and only then: combined, dissolved, dead in the eyes of many, will my ocean descend into me. Awake, light and free. Through this verse I have dissolved completely.

In the manner of a lover to a woman elsewhere

In poem on 5 April, 2012 at 22:54

I hear somehow you will return

and that you will not.

There is a way that both

are true: Read the rest of this entry »

Poetry and politics: showing Auden’s affirming flame

In Uncategorized on 16 August, 2011 at 12:20

Came across this Auden poem today, written on the eve of WW2:

“As the clever hopes expire

Of a low dishonest decade

How apt!

Read the rest of this entry »


In Uncategorized on 27 March, 2011 at 15:48

Clocks have changed. Summer’s here and I’ve been sharing this video with everyone I can find.

Full credit to Andy Baker for the excellent and inspiring video. It was shown at the opening of the Spring Trend briefing so is meant to be an estimation of the way things are headed.

Can you tell we’re on the move??

The Transformation Age

Is the Age that you came

To believe

That you were really going

And nothing would be left.

There could be more than this

In Uncategorized on 29 November, 2010 at 16:00

There could be more than this

I have heard it told

That conversation you repeated

5 times a week to

Another unlistening ear

Generation of goodwill

Poured out of hessein sacks

To be trampled into dust


Read the rest of this entry »

Roll me over YHWH

In Uncategorized on 21 November, 2010 at 22:07

Also to be found at

Roll me over YHWH

Breathe into my pores





I have been a wandering desert sage

Crying your name for days without food

You owe me

Some payback,


Read the rest of this entry »

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