poetry diary

Within that darkness lies the sea,
curling above into the sky,
and neither cares for me.

Inside this room, two flowers
above each white tablecloth are pink
and candlelit, like stars.

And someone cares for them, and me
by vague association too:
this is humanity.

————

I stayed in the Old Manor Hotel in Leven, Scotland, last night as a guest of Fife Council. The restaurant is a conservatory looking out over the Firth of Forth (which I couldn’t see in the dark). It was empty, apart from me and a group of businessmen at a far table. (An excellent hotel though!).

Posted on dVerse.

They call death a shadow,
but I saw only light:
in faces at your wedding,
and a picnic by a lake.
In the eyes of your family;
moments of your life glistening
like starlight in their tears
and mine, who hardly knew you,
yet cannot be untouched
by your life and loves,
and the soulprints you left behind
forever lightening opened hearts.

They call death a shadow,
but I saw only light.

———————–

I attended a memorial service for my wife’s uncle, who died aged 84, last week.

Posted on Poets United.

I will allow

            the slow spiral

of my life

            to take one more turn,

as if unscrewing

            the cap on a bottle

of New World wine

            of uncertain maturity

and depth;

            or perhaps like the more brutal bite

of steel thread

            into the yielding, cautious cork

of an aging claret,

            not knowing when,

without warning,

            it might give,

and pop.

And then I will drink,

heartily, and with other people’s wine, 

to this year to come.

 
————

May you all have a very good 2013. Salut!