Supple intake transforms standard to salient
Triumph thanks tantalised talent
Trials confronted conduct products ultimate
Survival sullied for an alternate
Symphony bellows true blood tempo rhythm
Value balloons with enthusiasm
Transmits fail-safe faith in methods titanium
Sophisticates yesterday's system
Theories distributed to avid students taught
Voluminous sage bolsters scholars
Series of gradual upgrades steadily sought
Take bulging pulses, pump dollars
8th November
Innovation
When my fatigued pen,
succumbed to a sleepy state of silence
in the market place of silent poets,
I searched for a tea room to stimulate my mind
my quest led me to you.
I do not recall the colours
of the cup, nor the saucer.
Only the shimmer of light,
reflecting your delicate,
slightly tanned hands.
I wondered, was it the chai
or those hazel bronze eyes -
something left me mesmerised.
One sip,
a sudden sense of serenity
overcame me -
like the sun had risen through my heart,
warm rays beamed through my eyes.
To not lose the moment,
I sipped slowly, savouring subtle sensations.
Silky smooth liquid caressed my tantalised tongue,
as taste buds yearned for just one sip from your lips.
Suddenly, a profusion of poetic thoughts
began to burst through my mind.
This was no simple musing.
Rekindled pen began to flow like rivers of chai.
EtOH
EtOH, like dancing fingers in a Chopin etude,
Plays the tune of disinhibition on my frontal lobes.
Empty receptors laugh and smile as they are
Tickled and tantalised by alcohol’s exciting touch.
The world brightens and I blossom as some
Sweet scented lily that has but one night
To lure the unwary into Nature’s dance.
But all too soon, enough becomes too much,
And clouds gather at the edges of my mind;
Sparkling dreams give way to sober thoughts,
Darkness sends its scouts into my happy estate.
The deceptive friend slips off his mantle of
Freedom, revealing the jailer of my thoughts,
My scourge, bringer of doubts and misery.
Of John Bruce, the poet, and Grayson Perry's exhibition, 'The Vanity of Small Differences'...
Outside looking in
From John’s pocket moths appear
As violins weep
Beggars from the pavement see
Art through a glass darkly
Grayson’s woven tales
Of social mobility
Inaccessible
Myths of the tapestries lost
To legend and irony
Illicit colours
Seep through windows to the street
Teasing, beautiful
Sweet tale of the poet’s life
John Bruce; tantalised by light
by Gail
Chosen, tantalised, to there so close thine eyes, in musical moments,
Released all cares through reaching recitals, so buried now within the stave's,
Fingers flexing, skilfully etching, a melody of all the heart to both hear and see.
Exciting sounds of pure perfection, racing to the senses from all direction.
Resounding then loud, so as to hear the beat of heart,
Memories in music then a part,
Quavered and crocheted, in poetic abundance.
Such the resonance the soul to see!
Traverse me there then, upon the clouds of Clarinet!
Wing me wandered, upon the Harps repose.
Vail me unshaded in stringed ecstasy of Violin,
For then in all my heart and mind they do so sing!
Chorus me in carpets then, of orchestrated bliss!
So finely woven intricate, in Oboes saddened kiss.
That all of this can take me so to heavens new,
That all of symphony, could make my heart renewed!
Reeling me, searching me! So to find!
The ache of stirring reeds, enriches the mind,
Coaxing me then so now, to a winged height,
With music formed in fretted sagacious sound!
In music then, there is poetry found!
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