Poems of contemplation

Before the sun enters Aries - my birth sign - I always find myself more contemplative than usual. Maybe I imagine it, I don’t know, but that ‘end Pisces’ energy always feels heavy for me.

Have you ever had that longing for someone to swim inside your head with you? A cerebral mermaid or merman, helping you navigate your rocks, even swim in sweet synchronicity…..

So often in life you have those “ah - finally someone gets me” moments followed by those “nah….was an illusion, no-one does” ones. And maybe it’s both. Maybe we’re destined to mentally and emotionally bump into each other the way physical bodies do as we walk, collide with another’s ‘psychic traffic’.

Anyway, writing wise, this energy translates as poems. I will tell you more about each individual poem at the end. That way you can assign your own interpretation first.

The sun is in Aries now, anyway - thank fuck!

I got my hair trimmed, arranged some mate dates and am stepping back into my light .

A Sign

I’m questioning relationships

Whilst scrutinising songs

Staring wistfully in coffee

’Cause the tea leaves read me wrong

Longing for a relevance

Resisting repetition

Emotional intelligence

A sliver of ambition

So often though, it’s absent

I find myself adrift

Shafted, stuck between the floors

In this unearthly lift

I check the waxing of the moon

And if my stars align

But see only light pollution

Should I take that as………a sign?

.

I was looking for my meaning

Guess my meaning ran to hide

Like fairies in the garden do

When children play outside

And so, I hope it greets me soon

Sweet miracle appears

A glimmer or a tremor

To remind me why I’m here

I’m certain we have purpose

I just need to work out mine

And while I get to finding it

I’d rather like………..a sign

Killed Again

Taken to familiar shed

Time that I was killed again

Silent slaughter, sharpened knife

Belly slashed and left to drain

Red deserts me drip by drip

Til I’m hollow, empty, numb

Swinging low, a tolling bell

Cavity upon a hook

Burdened lemon tendons snap

Last golden stolen, as I hang

Dangle by remaining limb

Liberally apply the salt

My marrow soul, a fissure sea

Will smash, depart, in smarting sour

To then revive, cajole and nudge

Coax back to pasture, sweet once more

The rays infuse each violet bruise

Healed by time and generous sun

He likes me strong and healthy best

Ready to be killed again

Lack

When I’m content, I can’t maintain

The light inside, compelled to drain

Sense emptiness is coming back

I poise myself for the attack

In thought we fight our greatest war

Regret leaves such a tender scar

I struggle to submit to sun

For contemplating what’s to come

The mind, our fiercest enemy

Most skilful of adversary

We die alone yet in plain sight

Day begs as bones to flesh of night

All candle dance must bow to black

Abundance must return to lack

When you’re free

Hey!

Was just thinking of you

Thought I’d message

Would be nice to see you soon

Catch up

Go for lunch

When you’re free

.

Don’t worry though

I know you’re busy in the week

With your course, your job….

And

You probably spend the weekend with your family, right?

I get it!

But maybe just a coffee sometime

When you’re free

.

Tell you what……you tell me when’s good…..

I can do Mondays…..

And Fridays and…..

I have a lot on too……obviously!

Would be great to see you, though

When you’re free

.

’Cause time goes by

And suddenly we haven’t gotten together

In weeks, months, years…..

But I keep seeing all these photos

Of you, with your kids, your dogs, your other half, other friends……

Having fun

When you’re free

.

And…….if you and I were really free

Completely free, to do exactly as we wished

Would we ever devote time

To curating soulless online scrap books

Parading meals, houses, clothes

First-day-backs, birthdays, beaches

.

Do you remember sending postcards?

Committing words like pressing flowers

No delete

The effort of a written letter

Curves and loops uniquely ours…..

Flattening down paper

Snapping lead, ink smudges

.

Telephones with clunky handsets!

Smooth curves heavy in expectant palms

Stretching out the curly cords, taut, relax

Fingers snug in circular dials, letting it spring back…..that clicking noise!

.

Close my eyes, can still smell the ribbons of reel to reel

Life crackling and love rosing

Old home movies too!

No editing or filters then

Breath resting in each nook of pause

How naturally and easily

We’d document mundane existence

Small thumbs trawling beaded curtains

Silver Cross prams in yards, carry cots

.

But here we are, in modern times

‘See’ more of you than ever before

Know what your daughter had for dinner

The Netflix series that you follow

More of you…..yet feels so distant

Words arranged as rigid stems

Photo offerings, quips deliberated

Like we’re invited to each other’s exhibition

Applauding it in likes and comments

Validating a performance

.

But it’s not a show I want to see

It’s you, my ordinary friend

Guess things will go the way they’ll go….

I’ll leave this here

For when you’re free

Breeze

I heard the tongue of fluid wind

One night it called to me

I yearned that it would sweep me up

And I, a dancer be

To move and sway on wild whim

To journey on a breath

My body, but a husk at play

In elemental path

To cruise and coast the wrath of sky

A captain, unafraid

Each turn and twist, by kismet blessed

My measure, calm and staid

But here I lie, thought snagging

Every awkward branch and spire

And there you tease, delicious breeze

One day, you’ll catch my fire

Okay so here’s what they were written about, in case it’s not obvious.

‘A Sign’ is me wondering - as many of us do - what my purpose is. Nearly 50 and I still don’t bloody know, will I ever know…..y’know….. Why is there such pressure on humans to even have one? I had a nice rhythm in my head as I wrote that one, hopefully that translates. It’s a little tongue in cheek too.

‘Killed Again’ is a dark one - about toxic relationships - the alternating cycle of love and pain. The build up followed by the knock down. Feels like being emotionally killed and rekilled again.

‘Lack’ is about those times when you’re happy but can’t just let yourself simply be in the moment, you’re already writing the script, anticipating the shit to come because life has taught you that’s how it goes, the good can’t last.

‘When you’re free’ - I was considering those words, how we use ‘free’ to express both availability and liberty, just playing with that, pondering upon the idea that science has supposedly given us all this ‘free’ time yet we still struggle to catch up with those who mean something to us. Then just started geeking out on old gadgets. The way documenting something used to feel ceremonious, communication a ritual. The gathering of objects, the comforting clunkiness of cumbersome 70s and 80’s tech.

I wrote ‘Breeze’ 3am kind of time, lying in bed, listening to the wind outside. Just started wanting it to scoop me up and drag me through the gap in the window like a fairy. To harmonise with the elements.

Hope you took something from one or some of them, anyway.

The Spring equinox is here.

There is now more light.

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