Peace comes dropping slow

Peace comes dropping slow.
You know,
I wish it would?
With every sinew, and blood vessel,
heartbeat and breath,
with each vein, in each life giving tendril,
from my bones:
coccyx, sternum,
cavicle, humerus, radius, ulna,
carpals, metacarpals, tarsals, metatarsals, and phalanges.
From my pelvis, femur, patella, tibia and fibula.
From my soul.
Peace comes dropping slow,
I wish it would.
Let's work on it.

My father's father's face

The profile of the past etched out on thick drawing paper, delicately and gently, in 1962.

I never met him.
Yet I see him now, gently cast in a new and toddling face, frowning, exploring.
I don't know him yet.

He never met you.
Lyric, he might be; scholar he is; artist, we'll see; dancer, he tries; teacher, he will be; farmer, I hope for; bee keeper, we need; father and grandfather, we pray.
Your father's face, Da. 

The past casts the future after all.

Dandelion Clock

Tick, tock, dandelion clock,
the dawning of a brand new day.
Fingers clasped on hopeful stems,
the world entire gently carried
with fragile smiles.

Tick, tock, dandelion clock,
rushed, running, turn and say:
'I love you'.
We are released, encouraged,
and so proceeding on and on.

Tick, tock, dandelion clock,
another generation
learning and growing
under the regular sun and water
of the words and gestures we use for each other.

Tick, tock, dandelion clock,
One gentle gust, the world departing,
dearly beloved,
loving mother, father, husband, wife and friend.

In everything you said and did,
we learnt from you.
Tick, tock, dandelion clock. Stop.

Rock

Your rock
is secretly pumice stone,
gets all frightened when shes alone.
Afraid of the dark.
and dragons and monsters under the bed
even though she knows
they are only in her head.

Your rock
is petrified that she might shatter
but it doesn't matter.
A molten heart is pounding,  
reviving.
Mothers rise
eternal.

Bed

I sleep in snatches,
Sandwiched.
Peaceful forms on either side, 
pinned close to feel my skin.
Sometimes the cat also finds a niche of warmth.
I dare not move, my stillness and heartbeat the harbinger of peace.

I awake and am lonely in company.
My hip throbs and back pains.
I listen to gentle breathing, dreaming, heart beating.
I wish, long, ache to be where you are now.
Asleep, alone and in the company of dreams.

Out like a lion

You sprang out
like the lion of March,
and we snuggled you into a lamb.

As new leaves unfurled
so did you.
And you blossomed
like the long awaited spring.

November Birth

When all the leaves have turned to gold,
and laid a carpet at your feet;
when the wind finally turned cold,
you and I did meet.

Year turns year on year,
leaves fall and crown ground,
the wind whispers in my ear
your name, your birth, my becoming.

At sea, blue

Deep milk blue,

the innocence of you. 
Your eyes dependent,
loving, needing,
sleep depriving,
limpet clinging. 

Deep silk blue, 
the playfulness of you.
Your eyes sparkling,
laughing, asking,
security seeking, 
safely anchored to me.

Deep grey blue, 
the loving of you,
your eyes alone.
Desired, cherished.
Safeguarded. 
Mainstay, 
my heart tends to you.

Attend flashing green eyes.

Set your course home and live on these rocks with me. 
I'm at sea without you, 
blue. 

Truth

Wisdom to learn

Knowledge to reason

Judgement to listen

Courage to speak

Understanding to love

Reverence to worship

Wonder to live

Winter was coming

I didn't see the seasons,

I missed the glistening, powder puff snow
that lay on the cold, hard ground
only fading away at Easter.

Crashing thunder and a deluge
which soaked the fields,
quietened and dried without a second glance.
New green leaves unfurled alone. 

Then the sun beat down hot for months on end.
Summer clung on in warm strong winds.
Conkers fell all at once. 

All I saw was you.

Then I looked up and winter was coming.

TwentyPoemsYoung

I just want to keep a record of some poems which I draft every now and then, and collect them like stamps, so I can look again. They may become 'used' and 'redundant' - kindling for the fire, but perhaps, just one, might become a 'collectors item'. Even if the only one who collects it is me.