footfalls …
house to darkened house
unhurried, muffled footfalls echo,
passing lampposts shedding gold …
pool of gold …
pool of gold …
wife's hand in mine like long ago,
yes, long ago,
serene, calm dark inviting thought,
sweet memories of younger love--
we pause,
not showered by cascading gold,
we kiss,
two shadows melding, no one sees
but moon aloft in velvet sky,
broad, lofty oak limbs filtering
pale-bright moonbeams washing down,
moonlight dripping limb to branch
to naked autumn limb and branch,
crisscrossed shadows tiling
this spot we kiss
a moon-mosaic
and then we wander,
homeward wander …
pool of gold …
pool of gold …
spirits tranquil as the dark
stillness stirring reveries
while, house to darkened house,
unhurried footfalls follow.
November 17, 2022
Beauty of Night Poetry Contest
Sotto Poet, sponsor
If at first you don't succeed try try again
When did this first happen and tell me when
Was it the time when I tried to hang a door
Doing some tiling perhaps on the kitchen floor
Maybe the saying was when I tried to cook
The meal was ruined just my rotten luck
I kept trying to make the perfect poem rhyme
Nothing kept happening time after time
Whenever this saying first started I don't know
So many stories as this poem will clearly show
I will keep trying and eventually I'll find
This stupid saying will slip from my mind
hear the happy skittle
knows he isn't brittle
laughs at flying spittal
from the vicars
see the sullen dancer
living fearing cancer
seldom wants an answer
always bickers
smell the Christmas fairy
legs and arms so hairy
makes me rather wary
nostril pickers
man who's always smiling
messing up the tiling
says he's done the filing
wearing knickers
thinks he's Jack the Ripper
breaks another zipper
eats a mouldy kipper
pounding tickers
LOL, pure nonsense but wanted to try this interesting form
written 31st March
for Mick's Violette contest
A child in the shopping Mall, wearing Superman kit,
leaps up with one arm in the air and tries to fly a bit.
With dreams of being bulletproof and lifting heavy things,
and all the other powers being a superhero brings.
Such innocent exuberance he'll find, as time goes on
will be replaced with other things that he will wish upon.
As years go by, no wish to fly, such talents would not be missed
so here I state the humble gifts I'd have on such a list.
To put my socks on, standing up, not falling on the bed,
remember that the doorway's low when in my garden shed.
To bend and pick things off the floor without giving off a groan
put up and close the ironing board, and do it all alone
read what's in a tin of soup without using a microscope
when shopping, use self-service tills and not look such a dope.
Mix a pack of custard that don't look like tiling grout
and thread a needle first time without my tongue hanging out.
All necessary talents as quickly the time flies
and- hang on...I've mislaid my keys-
can I have x-ray eyes?
Time of the times
Tiling for the time, building on the line
Edifying road, path intersection of your life
Minimizing for the fight, pacifying on the ground
Exploring rope, mild intervention in the sound
Time of the time, learning from your past
Time of the future, presenting your lust
Time of the moment, coloring your trust
Time of the unknown, understanding your vice
Playing on the path, regulating to the sight
Safe game, temple flesh, collecting your breath
Mockery of the blessing, bush burning cracking
Slaughters of the lamb, bomb-exploding facing
Time of the time, gaming with the mice
Time of the future, spacing for the lost
Time of the moment, talking of the wise
Time of the unknown, watering from the rock
Timing of the till, designing through the gap
Speaking on the hope, judging from the place
Walking all day long, thinking on the step
Dreaming on the floor, meditating on the grace
Writing for the soul, singing to the land
Time of the time, on the melody of your life
Time of the future, on the soliloquy of your mind
Time of the moment, on the symphony of your art
Time of the unknown, on the cacophony of your march
isaac-
a schmaltzy little homily to our successful marriage of 32 & a bit years:
In Our time
We have fathomed
the intricacies
of Measurement
and Angle,
conquered the
Everest of
Plastering
& painted whole worlds
Many colours, many times over.
We have
Mastered the
Logic of tiling,
Plumbed the ancient
Mysteries of water,
Sanded, chiselled, nailed
& screwed to make things fit AND stay there!
Only to discover, at the end
Of all this sweat & toil
That the essence of home-building is…
the Level. @
The saline quantity of wealth
abscondering the nation's store
to laugh with gain the jewels stealth
mocking robbery of the poor!
Til all the channels filled with fools
parading treasures for the rules
and madness' audience that drools
faith's truer beauty, lessened tools!
To capture then the mind of childish yen
another thing, brand new, should work again
to dull the conscience, then to dull respite
through this condition, faster, day and night!
And add the upper tiling of insight
things building things, 'til service senses plight
I want no more ~ the Holy peace & quiet
needs nothing to restore, but Hope's true pilot!
The will of God, within . . . time to apply it!
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