I'll Love You Forever

And moments pass.

And time moves on.

And steel rusts.

And grass grows

and must be cut.

And light fades.

And fires die.

And rains dry.

And clocks stop

and must be wound.

And stars explode

without a sound.

So how can I say,

I'll Love You Forever.

Not Ever Again

A personal expression of the frustration and anger complete betrayal can bring into one's life. 

I paused, to blink, and in that moment (while my eyes were closed) an eternity passed, and you, were gone. But eternity will last forever and while I stood with closed eyes, (I couldn't see) you standing before me, patiently waiting  till I opened my eyes again.

Wild White Horses

Half Light barely licking winding coastal roads, as wild white horses rear, then throw themselves towards half glimpsed darkened shores.

Standing ground against God’s Hands, that pluck at chest and legs in His unconscious attempt to lift and fly this flesh from land to sea.

Enthralled as wind and sound push, pull and fight, to entice an embrace with these beasts riding above deep blue space.

Pull me closer, let me in, hold me to your breast and I can fly deep beneath Your sky.

The Four Pillars

These Four. These four pillars.

The foundation these four form.

The foundation that relationship, that marriage, that forever is built upon.

Of these four, once considered and weighted, none is of more import than the other,

nor of greater value to one's faith in relationship.

  Consider those moments when another's soul touches yours, whether conscious or unconscious. These corner stones, these four pillars become the guide, leading us to the answers of those questions so often asked. Are you for me? Am I for you? Is this another lie or finally the truth?

  These moments clarified in thought are searched through, digested, then ruminated upon.  Emotions are; as we know, the food of the soul.

  So I reflect upon these moments, conjuring up a screen to revisit the pictures held in my mind, pressing play to hear, once more, the soft echoes, of words shared and spoken. The remembrance of my hand round yours, guiding yours, however brief, being relived again and again.

  In this moment i sit beside you, in another i float with you, buoyant in the water, while summer sun bakes down, singing bare shoulders, and drying lush vegetation after the heavy winter rains. All the while we float I selfishly wish for time to slow so I can savour each word that flows from your lips. Take each word on my tongue and let their meaning, their very essence, take hold. Imagining that time could, frame by frame, be slowed further, so every bird song, every rustle of leaves in the breeze, every capture of light on your face and nuance in that moment of nature be touched, felt and understood. To float with you and want for nothing else in that moment, is this Companionship? Is this the first of the Four Pillars? For if so, this is truly a good pillar.

  And what of the others? Could it be that moment catching your eye and self consciously looking away, when knowingly one would rather hold that gaze and pour every wish and dream untainted from heart to heart, undaunted and unafraid that this trust should be mistreated or brushed aside. Could it be to gaze on your lines as a painter would release the unconscious flow in his brush, or a sculptor allow the clay to find form within his hands. Is this Attraction? Is this the second most vital support? But how fleeting and precarious can this pillar become when unattended or ignored.

  With these two in place, secured in honest soil, one can drop one's guard and feel defences lower, without preconception or plan. This realisation ringing true and bringing with it reminders of good. Resurfacing and reawakening memories of time less troubled, when "naivety", "pure" and "sheltered" were fond friends and not distant relations. To peel back a hardened skin and allow another's vital presence in, with few qualms, few fears and few doubts. Is this Trust? Is this the third of them? The Third Pillar, so easily shattered, it's composition so vital to maintain.

  The Fourth is undoubtably Love. We feel we know this so well, have visited so oft before, have held hands with and sometimes dived deep into it's arms, intoxicated by it's body. But what is Love? This fourth and final pillar, without it's companion supporters. Without Companionship, Love is lust, a fire that burns itself to ashes and will vanish in time. Without Attraction, Love can not kindle, can not push the heart to beat a little faster when caught by a certain look, can not cause tingles of energy at the merest touch of a hand or brush of an arm. And Without Trust...

...Love Will Fail.

  Without Trust, the weeds of doubt and insecurity will gain hold and pull each of these pillars down, destroying their core as surely as time and the elements destroy that which is left abandoned. Once this quagmire has taken Trust, there is no release. So is Love merely the cantilevered space that is created and held in suspense by the pillars of Companionship, Attraction and Trust? No, for Love becomes the intangible fourth support without which relationship and marriage could not elevate themselves to greater heights. But how fragile is this fourth of these pillars? So beautifully sensed, but so easily shattered, so intangible that without the presence of the other three as a constant reminder of it's ethereal existence it will fade away and be lost to time.

  Build true. 

With Dignity

Let me grow old with dignity.

Let my hands tremble behind closed doors,

let me fumble

with the blurred and written word in my own darkness

Let me grow old with dignity.

As every breath is rasped and fought for,

as the smallest step grows into an Alpine challenge

and that..

that tiny tumbler weighs heavy in my weakened and fragile hands.

Let me hide this from you.

Let me shield you from the embarrassment of catching my eye and looking away

or, god forbid, my aged presence reminding you of your own mortality.

I'll hold myself true with spit and polish when I stand amongst you.

Let me grow old with dignity.

Do not take from me

my once agile mind and adventurous ways, with a sigh or with impatient disdain,

Do not stride past with youthful vigour, a keen wit and vital muscles.

Know, i too once was such,

would have carried a world on my shoulders,

harnessed a body that sung with life,

electrified my friends and conquered my foes.

But now,

my library of memories

becomes my tomb of verse and rhyme,

as lovers and friends fade

in thought and time.

So

Let me grow old with dignity.

Be Remembered... Make Each Moment Count.

Old Man! Old Man! You dare address me so.

You.

You insolent pup, you whelp, you with mothers milk staining your lips.

Boy!

I will address you so.

Boy!

You dare strike out and wave your weapon of choice,

Your weapons of words

Words are no weapons.

Words carry no force.

Words are no stick or stone,

But,

Boy!

See me face to face and peacock your brave spirit

Bolstered by a sly women's boasts,

a snake that offers the apple,

and i will cut your legs from your torso

squander your pup's yelp with one blow,

Old man! Old man?

I will see your infantile flesh smeared across this tar

as your skin is seared from your bones

Boy!

Weep and scream

and beg, as you did at your mothers teet,

But,

Alas,

Boy!

This Old Man offers no mercy

and

I will see you crushed into hell,

Boy!

----

Inspired by Shakespeare's Coriolanus.

Little Star

                                 My sweetheart,

    my daughter, my son, so brief in existence

                                 No life yet begun.

Our hearts had beat as one,

       our bodies joined

Our truth sung.

  From tears of joy, tears of sorrow are sprung,

                     drawn from this

well of barren past.

                                   What hope remains

flickers and gasps for breath, at once given fuel and starved,

masticates and gazes distant.

This shared love and loss finds it place but no heart can call it home,

                                     Less it burden us alone.

it's a gonna fall

---

grey

sullen

heavily laden

pregnant sky

births

cold, crisp, wet

clouds of saturated molecules

and

the dog of earth

laps

eagerly

at mud puddles

The Moment

----

the moment before the wind blows

is beautiful,

the moment before you breathe

and see your breath,

the moment before you kiss 

and feel his lips, 

the moment before you wake

-

the moment before the wind blows is beautiful, 

and sometimes i cry for all this beauty around

-

written a long time ago while watching fabric blow in a breeze, my mind was taken back to my youth, a love and times true

Beautiful little story by A.A.Milne from a book i bought in Porters Market on Saturday Morning...

the garden light

the garden light shines, through

the trees as they sway, in

the cooling evening breezes, that

brush my sweat dewed skin

Fallen Angel and the Birth of Light

Angel fell from the sky, with not a whimper; not a sigh, and as he fell, the light fled his eyes. 

“What land is this?” he asked, and stared through the darkness burdening his sight. 

What dry, desolate, drought ravaged plains lay before him? Bleak it seemed; no life, no soul here. Then in the distance, a twinkle, a faint glow, a humming of colour caught his eye. Towards it he moved, until the glow filled the sky. And there beneath an orb of golden light, radiating, she caught his sight. Blessed was she, beauty and energy, a spirit so wild and free. Yet tenderly, she soothed his harrowed soul, and caressed his weary heart, she held him in her gaze; he could not tear it apart.

Love flowed and souls kissed.

“Who are you?” he breathed.

“I am Honey” she smiled, and traced across his lips.

He felt his soul soar, and stretched his broken wings. They fanned and flexed, the pain forgotten with the beat and rhythm in his chest; and as the earth fell beneath his feet, he gazed at Honey in his arms, and she; gazed back, as the sparkle flared and spat, then burst forth from his eyes, to light the heavens and light the skies.

And Honey fell, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.

Zoom Lens

Directed by Patrick Ryan

Filmed in the Museum of Childhood, Hackney, London.