Jacob at the Well of Wonder

There is
a depth to it all
beyond the
reflection

Deep beyond

Beyond
the obvious
secret
well of
wonder and wealth
beyond dreams and
conjuring

Clarity
endless ocean
serenely bubbles
always available
to the seeker
looking beyond
the material

Give us this day

Provide sharp contrasts
between glorious mysteries
set hard against the sacred miseries
play them off
cruel theatre
absurd
...our daily bread

As if neither side has a clue
of what is going on
each muttering lines
heart engraven image laden
in the hope that something
might make sense to other
in our sorry souls
...forgive us  - as we them

That some stranger perhaps
come under cover of
strangeness
speak words
which will break the seal
open the gap between heaven
and earth
with no strings attached

awkwardly poised

Amen

Rainbow Crystal

There are memories and with them vestiges
of what once was
a hint here
a glimpse there
of meaningful days now
long since robbed by time
of their significance
and yet
the echo remains
tantalising
like shoreline residue
evidence of
once upon a tide
things were such that poets
and artisans fashioned
strong images some
in granite
some in gold
some on the hearts of man
it is too and from the latter
my appeal is
soul to soul through the ages.

Gabriel Calls

By some standards poor
several suitors
some imagined
she has summoned conjured
sung and danced for them

one by one

not to be

but, he says, He is the one for her
she has been watched
it is on the whole notes of her body
He is to be played

not found in the discordant sharps and flats of
sermons hymns and prayers
but from the water she draws up from her
own soul's questing well
will come the sweet song of wine
gladly given and received

The Future's Bright the Future's...

Life Held Back

Having the words and hallmarks

of genuine misery

melancholy

existential

angst

just look again at the grindingly grim

crushing metaphors

Helpless hopelessness

crushed down

compressed in

order to fill full

with alienation

abandonment

smell it

taste its sour bitterness

until at last

forgetful of time

or name or place

brought to my knees

by the sheer

despair of it all

And yet as the box is opened hope flaps

about magestically filling the endless

void with

unconditional love

hopefully

flapping 

fanning promises

in the face of despair

Standing Stone

What the sentry knew
- and all he could do about it
What the carpenter knew
- and all he could do about it
Unintended outcomes
of learning a trade
art become craft
become commodity
become death
become art
become new life

Mapping the Rainbow Path

mind attempts 

recording techniques

doomed

to

lukewarm

ineptidudes

body 

remembers

counting the cost

Forty Years a Growing

Straining for perfection
I have no wound
denying my weaknesses and frailty
becoming saintly is a dangerous thing
living in a state of denial
a thing no saint ever did
it is in humanity and humility that
saintliness is born
in learning to not only live with woundedness
but embrace as mentor and friend

without our wounds we are one dimensional
unreal unbelievable
plaster saints
unattractive
it’s the slip of the tongue
the misguided enthusiasm
the self dillussion
masquerading as self confidence
that wins us over again and again
we like our heroes flawed
but not too much

I am like that
hearing myself in their story see myself about to fall
tripping on a banana skin
recipient of a custard pie
now I can identify
something to get my teeth into
aspiration

before

with only my wounds I journey the land as a tragic soul
unaware of flowers
to smell
kiss of sun
breath of wind
song of brambling brook
consumed by self importance
concerned more with the keeping of appearance
than the discipline of learning my lines
developing discernment
knowing when to speak them