#CreativeSprint Day 3 - Odd Bedfellows

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Odd Bedfellows

At the end of each extreme

There is a melting meeting point -

Evaporating Water in hot places  

Makes firey mist of elemental division.

So how would it be to de-polarise

The dualistically trained Western mind

And get out of the boxes and boundaries

Into a wider sense of being?

Not simply morse code marking 1-0

Mathematics would explode in multiple connections 

Humanity would welcome its vibrant diversity

In mesmerising spectrums of infinite capacity 

And then we two odd bedfellows

And so many like us 

Might better understand our interface

As love rather than warfare 

#CreativeSprint Day 2 - What's in a name? - Katherine

Katherine

She broke the wheel

And spun her way through

The debates of cruel men.

Her eloquence turned heads

Rotating the minds of scholars,

Royalty and pilgrims alike.

She commanded hearts

From her faith’s centre

And lost her head for love.

She broke the wheel,

Spokes of silence became

Spirals of singing light at her touch.

She broke the mould

And breaks cold November nights
With a crackle of sparkling lights.

For Catherine of Alexandria

#CreativeSprint1 - In the Palm of My Hand

Word Wander

Word Wander

In Celebration of National Poetry Day 2017

They wander, these words

Along the heart tracks of my feelings

As I unfold myself to you

They wander into your hearing

Magicking up meanings I never

Meant or imagined possible

They wander out into space

Like drunken stars sizzling

With combustible possibilities

They wander, leaving a trail

Of wonderful connections

And perilous divisions behind them.

They wander, leaving me wondering

What will happen next along

Their wild wordy way in the world

They wander, taking a little 

Of me with them and leaving

A little more of me behind

They wander off and I wonder

At the wonderful silence

They leave behind them....

Lily Love

Lily Love

I want to lounge on your satin petals

And stay there until I bleed into

The stain of your passionately

Purple floral trumpet mouth.

Regal fanfare of perfumed glory

Regale me with intoxicating scent

Lure me away from life’s madness

Into the profound joy of beauty.

Word Wonder

Word Wonder

Even with the gaps that we mind

Between words and the signified

Words can weave a consolatory wickerwork 

Around pain, constellating new understandings.

Words can weave their way through warp

And weft of puzzles, riddles and ridicule

And liberate a pathway to freedom -

A word can wield a way where once

There seemed to be none.

Even in a world where they are bent, 

Spun and twisted to fit false, fickle

And fast fleeting perspectives,

Words can bestow the wonder of a truth

Owned, a trouble halved and shared

And a redeeming olive branch proffered.

An imaginary realm where dreams

Can live, words weave a sound around 

The silence, birthing the unsaid to be

Heard and acknowledged. And as this 

Trail of electronic words marches

Across the glow of the virtual page 

To the gleaming sightlines of your listening eyes

So we see and read each other 

As stars passing across times eternal skies.

 

Happy World Poetry Day 2017

Word Knitting

Every word stands poised on gossamer threads of silence

Spinning back and forth between past and future

Waiting to be spoken afresh in resounding tones

Carried on the breaths of innumerable hidden voices

The poets weave words, spinning their silken stories

Into time's tapestry with bony wordworn fingers

The music of their moment passes inexorably into mine

As I sit here knitting with clicking keyboard needles

My tangled ball of wordwool unravels across the screen

Unseen voices glow within the illuminated imprints

Humming within the electronic undertones

Whispering secrets from the great unseen underbelly of existence

What is a word worth, when weighted with this

Great undertow of silent speaking history

What can a word carry, as a coffin encasing carnage

Of colonial conquests and cultural assimilations

A word lives and dies as soon as spoken

Leaving trails of riddled legacies in its wake

Tangled clues left to be traced by today's children

To weave from it their own knotted song