another poem, this one written in Preston park yesterday, whilst waiting for a friend
haven’t really finished it yet… but thats often the way with poems written in Rose gardens
……………………
Some day I shall live aloft, in a tree house, plonked in the heart of a Rose garden
At Night, to stir the swirl of perfume, pierced by the distant light from the mineral stars, else beguiled, engulfed by the charms of a lullabye moon
Damask, Scarlet, Lemon
Soft petals, whorled and spiralled with a whispered mystery
At Dawn, to read the augury in the patterns of the flight of birds
as they weave and braid the sky
Damask, Scarlet, Lemon
Soft petals, whorled and spiralled with a whispered mystery
At Midday, within the dappled shade, beneath the vaulted spreading arms of the tree
to set out the solemn heft of chess pieces, formal on the board,
to hold the crystal patterns in the mind
to nod at passers by, with eyes which no longer seek to question
yet with kindness, look to prompt an answer
Damask, Scarlet, Lemon
Soft petals, whorled and spiralled with a whispered mystery
At violet Sunset, as the weight of light dwindles from the sky
I shall recline, head resting on one arm, like the golden buddha
then to roll aside from life, as though from a dream
so dense the stench, that as the world falls away in gossamer tatters,
I shall be borne aloft, by the succulence of their perfume
as though by the gentle plump pressing of ample hands
