A Gypsy

A gypsy wandered
Through a distant destiny,
Far from her mystic flesh.
For this world is still a lake.
It mirrors a clear beauty
Of no substance.
So her mind travelled
Through crystal mist
To the visions glass core.
That still lake!
It took her soul,
And drowned it.

(October 1977)

The Victim

He stumbled and fell.
Down,
down,
down.
An eternal depth
Of vile contortion.
An evil hunger
devoured his reason.
A cunning thirst
drained his sanity.
A ruthless flame
consumed his soul
And left his body, empty.

(Spring 1977)

breath

i sit by the tall window in the falling light,
the clouds settle on the mountains
like quiet sleepers curled round a dream,
the snow lies deep on the frozen lake,
the fire lingers in the hearth,
i rest my head on the cold glass,
the house is empty, everything is still.....
i miss the way you glide to me
and breath slow wings through my heart.

Love Life For Me

In love with you, I ran from you,
Cradling every detail of the missive you had bourne.
And now, high in flight
On the quill tips of my angel muse,
It is too many years too late to return,
Though in vision and in dream,
This I see, this I learn;

That your love of life has crumbled
Time and time to dust
Between the smug, dry palms
Of anothers distrust.
Colleagues and companions
Mindful of your courage,
Jealously obliged
With intent to disparage.
Pinnacles of falsity,
Narrowed, pointed, confined.
The spires were all cold
To the dreams you had in mind.
And sweet Jayne in black lace
Made from many a maids' tears,
Her morbidity arising
From the pit of her fears.
She informed the movie mogul
That you were a lost young man.
To abolish your goal
Was her fiendish plan.
But I spied your etheral guide,
I saw his name upon a stone
And above his name
Was carved your own.
Like the Mayflower you must sail
From the grey and passionless Isles,
From yellow mouthed promises,
From shallow-eyed wiles.
Find meaning in the misfortune
That has rendered you lame.
Carry the banner of calling
Into the battle of fame.
Go forward as an orphan,
Untutored, unchecked.
Lay bare your truths,
Embellish, dissect.
From the heights of glory
To the depths of strife,
Reinstate extremity,
Repossess your love of life.

I am now the messenger
As you were once a messenger to me.
My message is this;
'Love life for me'.

(July 1990)

For the Lone-traveller

Where is he?
The lone-traveller,
The poet I never met.
Who left me wild flowers
Bound in sweet grass.
He came in the night
And left at dawn.
He walked in the early mist
Through the wooded slopes,
And valleys of his mind.
I never saw him.
He never saw me,
But he left me a message
Of wild flowers
More touching and remote
Than any made with words.

(August 1977)