Poetry

A flute with no gap in its boundary cannot make music Neither can a flute with no boundary A string with no play in its boundary cannot make music Neither can a string with no boundary A face with no

I had a dream To leave the mainstream And pawsed to rest Upon this hill crest Where I gained a view That I thought no body knew I tried to tell That they were heading for Hell But, they said,

Oh, What Hell To Be In a Shell! It’s So Unkind To Be So Confined With No Room To Move Or Get Into The Groove This Inner Space Is Such a DisGrace I Gotta Get Outta This Place! I’ll Squeeze

As I open my mail box The yearning for that magic Still possesses me That greets the child Who, upon waking Peels back the curtains Hiding inside from outside And outside from inside To discover that it’s snowed overnight Changing

What is Our True Nature? A question I’ve pondered all my life Surprised As I am By stories I’ve been told By experts in their fields Of lonely Figures standing Like scarecrows in the cold Without a leg to stand

Slipping noiselessly Released at last From the crevice Between a rock and a hard place Where it sought and found shelter For a while Emerged the Sun Eagle Free to express it s

I feel the weight of overwhelming Odds Stacked up Against my tiny glimpse of hope A bloody-mindedness handed down Through the Ages From generation to generation Spoiled By seeking salvation In other’s loss Their sullied armies marching To the dread

Lingering downpours Falling out from grey blossoms Flowering obscurely Beneath sunlit clarity That opens outwards Whilst drawing inwards To receptive shadow That soaks itself in shade Where water wells and rises Onto surface Brimming over With pulsing moments Each a

Of course I am furious Of course I am sad Wouldn’t you be In my place? Our natural inclusion Of love in life And life in love Deserves so much better appreciation Than to be held in contempt Disregarded and

Suns radiate energy Conveyed in darkness Received and radiated in turn By moons and planets, Flora, fauna and micro-flora Birthing, dying, re-birthing In continuous tidal circulations of flow-ebb-flow Ebb-flow-ebb The comings and goings of one in the other Restoring life

Love is not divorced from Reason As abstracted minds declare Love is the Very Reason We are Where We are In an ever-flowing stream of form Combining flux with space In that receptive place That lives within our hearts No,

Oh, how we laugh! When Some Thing Touches Our Spirit Tickles Our Imagination Recalling Our Place In a Playful Space A common enjoyment Of a Common Enjoinment Recreations Of an Ever Present Folding Dynamic Boundaries Pivotal Places Incomplete Surfaces That