vignettes of moments
words scratched in electrons
a three line poem

collected poems
bind them together and then
cast them to the wind

the poem drawer
on display for all to see
the light and shadows
it contains
a legacy of drowning and glimpses
of redemption

strangers passing in the street
don't make eye contact
gone
dissolve in memory

in the name of my father
the son I never had
and a bottle of vodka

obliteration

I wrote a poem
for her, for him, for me

one day they'll put me in a box,
a draw for a few friends,
and the electronic poem drawer?
I honestly don't know.
I hope
I fear

eternity
perpetuity

just write for the drawer
for transience
for catharsis
for absolution
for now

I saw a spider
outside my window
on a windy day
spinning

how to construct the words,
a shaky Jenga tower,
I remember your kindness to me,
I remember you as brave,
I remember your funeral

too young but gone,
children fatherless
and widow ...

an empty ellipsis -
there are no words of real comfort,
only faded photographs

years have passed
it should have been your birthday
they cremated you

I hardly knew you

it falls apart

a tarot card
an image
a broken poem for Nish

This morning I meditated
and imagined a garden of thought.
Sometimes busy with the sounds of growing leaves
and groaning trees, that react to the weather.
Cats visit and the grass shimmers with the breeze.
There are weeds of course, Nature's shock troops.
Some days I ignore the weeds,
the Holocaust thoughts
and psychosis memories
and they fade like dandelion seeds
on the breeze.
Some days I pull them from the ground
by returning
to the soil,
my breath,
grounded in the body,
grounded in the earth.
I let go of the gravity of my thoughts
and focus,
again and again,
on what I can hear, see, and feel.
The sensations of my body,
my breath or my big toe,
I am alive.
I wander in a garden,
I sit with my back against a tree.
There is colour.
There is life.
I am here,
inside my skull,
the meditation bell sounds
with its resonating reminder,
to come back
to my room,
to my home.

60 paracetamol later
I was lying on the blue bathroom tiles
in pain, mid-suicide,
19 years later
I still need to breathe through it
self-soothe
and stop chasing
the love for the unobtainable,
the girl with the blue hair,
in the darkness
in the light
in the hospital
in the night
blue

the storm has largely passed
and I'm picking through the debris,
trying to piece together the jagged shards.
I sit numb and gaze at the fragments.
After the tornado,
after the storm,
I need a little quiet,
to find my feet,
to ground myself and process
the swirl into sand
that gently settles
and forms soil with my clay
into which I root
and grow again
but that is tomorrow,
today I sit amidst the jagged shards

solstice morning quiet
inhale
exhale
feel what you feel
I embrace you
and let you go

there is a certain sadness
that I swim through -
the sun is up,
the world is alive with summer,
today is the zenith,
yet my mind is drawn to thoughts
of winter stars and frost
sparkling,
this is the tilting -
feel what you feel
I embrace you
and let you go

from solstice to solstice
I love you
and let you go

the wheeling of the fixed stars
and the central sun,
the spiral of time -
ripples in a pool -
the glittering of light
as it passes through water -
dancing
dancing
dappled shade
as sunlight passes through tree leaves
feel what you feel
I embrace you
and let you go

sunlight to starlight
and return
blue sky

sit with me and we will talk about the stars,
the breath from our lungs will dance in front of us
and we will drink in the summer

sometimes I feel small
and fragile like an egg

I want to blossom bold as a buttercup
and stop the awkward anxious twisting

resiliance and trust
remember
remember
that I am loved and cared for

unwind
uncurl
smile
and be bold as a sunflower
bold as yellow
bold as peace
bold as water glittering in sunlight
be the river
be the wave
a leaf
connected
rooted

fragments of pottery
solitude
not lonely
yet the future
alone
alone
alone

it is my day off work
I must get busy and meditate,
watch the plants grow,
and listen to the sky

I will breathe gently
and will see the leaves stretch for light
and hear the herringbone clouds pass overhead

the wounded in me acknowledges the wounded in you
the darkness likewise
and the healing

I am a thing of darkness
I am a thing of light
I am on a journey to find peace,
and appreciate both.

The demons, the shadows,
the fear, the jangling inside,
I see my mirror self
and look me in the eye.

Green like mature fern fronds,
Black centre - whirlpool to the core,
to the night,
to sleep and stars and roots,
the rich earth of who I am.

to put the burden down
to say what is in your heart
to let go and go for a walk
healing

just write something
put words on the page -
scratching in electrons
that I exist
in the here and now -
it is Spring,
I see the blossom,
ephemera of life,
under the blanket of a white and grey sky,
change and the rolling out of the days,
repetition and transience,
nothing/everything is the same as yesterday,
breathe in
breathe out
the rolling out of time
the uncurling of fern fronds
the river always/never the same
the processes
the waves
the stars out of sight
I miss the touch of another human being,
ephemera