See The Dream

won’t go

see the sparrow

sitting on the grass

hopping onto the railings

and then over the grey road

to someone’s kitchen window.

What I’m trying to say is that

it is better to know this

when the heavy evening

having lost her happiness

comes to you

there quiet in your bed

it lays down in

the dark with you

then you know the meaning

of sorrow

the day changing its clothes

bored

and the stars racing in the sky

having outrun your sleep

see how this world drifts

unmoored

and when you wake in the

morning

the sparrow comes and

tells you this

then how easily

the whole thing

becomes a song

just like that

how the planes of joy

crisscross the sky

how the mind once again

comes home

and dances

delighted.

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).

Advertisements

All Day

I thought

and turned

into glass

by evening

the world

couldn’t get

more mischievous

than this

I thought

and realised

that you didn’t

really get much

not even sleep

which conjurer

of black airs

broke nothing

into this

I wondered

all night

till I turned

to stone.

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).

And Now

after all the madness

of the night

of red blood

seeping down the sky

down my walls

I sit here blank

and unhappy

my heart is a

ship on fire

sinking

and the roaring waves

of my days

engulf me

like demons

Dominic

Dominic

they call out

and I know

I tell them

I know the gardens

I know the dew on the grass

how it feels

I know I tell them

the kiss of the moon

on my eyes

Dominic Dominic

they call out

as the water

darkens my hours

I know I tell them

the warm morning sun

on my skin

I know the air

I tell them

I am a white butterfly

how wonderful it is to fly

but

Dominic Dominic

they call

as the roaring now

threatens to drown everything

around

I know the ant’s journey

I tell them

I know how they live

I was their friend once

how sweet they are

how much of the world

is theirs

how good a family

they are

I say I know

their lives

take it easy

I say

yet Dominic Dominic

they call out

my name.

Now This Is How It Is

inside I’m full of sadness

my mind is weaker

than a blank page

the sky mocks me from up high

so many years

I rose before it

and now

here once again

I sit

on my bed

writing this

the rains

are blowing

the emptiness

about in my life

the world lush and green

waits like a shy bride

and I see nothing

but the endless

haunted road

its beauty

its terror

and sigh

and in my mind

I see lorries go by

and think

will I go like this

into the night

full of stars

will I roar free

into the dark

will I tell the moon

horn ok please.

The Mist Takes Away

the palm trees’ worries.

They stand there dreaming.

 

You think of yourself

coming to an end,

slowly.

 

Then, the wet red roof tiles

of the houses below

breathe awake

stirring the bluewhite

in the sky

like water.

 

You see all this.

The cream buildings

bathed by the sun

smiling in glee

and the grey gloomy ones,

 

the old,

standing impassively,

and that leaves you

looking on quietly

with nothing

nothing at all

to say

to the day

waking outside

your window today.

 

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).

And Now To Defreeze

the mind

under the melting sun

why it smells so strongly of leaves

earth has taken residence

in your mouth

your eyes see endless green rivers

and the sun

how it beats down on your head

carrying lines of poetry

between the continents

how we drink of it

and come alive

and then the world is no more

it leaves us and goes away

we breathe we just breathe

because we need to

and now when the stars come out

in the sky

you realise you can’t move

you are neither awake nor asleep

you can really do nothing

except stare at the moon

an old homeless lady haunted

how she appears slowly

by your window

peering in.

Riding The Grey Crest,

the grey acres of the city,

the mind’s misses…

 

Who can tell you

what is what dear

returning home

at night.

 

With this grey road ahead

in the oncoming traffic

in the weariness that dies

in this noise…

 

We become ghosts

to ourselves…

Strangers passing by

in the dark.

 

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).

Now The Dimness

has become a black stone

this is dawn

this mountain

behind which the sun rises

come steam in the desert city

of skulls and ships

see how the heat

scorches life

to rust

in this harbour

these white pigeons

how they sit at the parapets

and coo

what do they say

the barking dogs

the noise of the vehicles

have burnt my mind

to cinders

and the crows the sparrows

what are they saying

I hear the storm

rising in the red earth

and watch how the dust whirls

and at night now

the cacophony rises

the demons come out

dancing with wild abandon

their red tongues out

thirsting for rain.

The Thought-Act

I was thinking of a forest

of dry brown leaves

rustling in the wind,

when it occurred to me

how the sun had decided

that it could have a different

radiance in my head.

I kept this with me, real or no,

I did not really bother to check.

Things that way were different

I thought to myself.

I drifted with the winds,

knowing them to be kin,

hoping they would carry me along;

Someday, I dreamt, someday

I would extend my hand

and crush a leaf.

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).