Turning a Corner

Got.

Forgotten chips of granite and calcite,

And unknowable string, mermaids’ hair.

Put my shell to your ear:

You’ve got me, you’ve got me, you’ve got me,

Now, never lose me….

Dancing across white hot beach love,

Too much for the simple barefoot approach.

Crash into waves then crash on love loungers,

Water, wine, beer and song:

You’ve got me, you’ve got me….

Hear the roar of my love,

Calling from distant shores.

Crash through cool foliage, fragrant,

Noisy with birds and grasshoppers,

To the cool, cool white room….

And dive from these rocks into love.

You’ve so damned got me.

 

 

The camera never lies, I do possess a giant dog......

===========

 

Car Park.

Standing by a fifth century castle in twentieth century ruin and rack

And the greensward all about the picnic area

Car park and a sense of lost perspective

That may never be the kind of trip

You'd let your children ride round on a three ring circus horse

Guard on sentry duty

Outside the palace where you saw the shade

Of an unrealistically beautiful woman

Keeping hold of the hand of time

To watch for the return of common sense

And reason and burning ships that carried the souls

Of her children

And when you speak she leaves a faint scent of

Autumn woodland maybe a hint of pine

And herbs that remain indescribable in

Profusion of senses that reminds

The car park attendant to check his pulse

And his purse to buy cigarettes

To smoke lonely in his wooden sentry shed

Where the fifth century seems to live these days

And knights have left to sleep at Alderley with the wise man and

His king carrying out the role of the watchmen who wait for a secret

Picnic signal

To remind them of Armageddon and innocent heady days

In the very place you stand in feeling no larger

Than the mushroom in the sward and no sword

Leaps to you grip as the battle-chief locks

The car park gates for the end of the day.

 

 

There is no common thread between these, except for me. No personal comment, no hidden messages, just some random poems picked out, and pictures likewise.

What has this to do with turning a corner?

Maybe nothing, but I have made a decision, and, hard though it initially is going to be, I've managed a few days already, so am determined that it's one that's going to last for some time yet. The alternative is to sink back into the same old mind-numbing routine, again, and we know that that doesn't really work, so maybe having an ever clearer head might.

I'm not going to drag out the soap-box and tell the world about the reformation, but as I said, I'm giving myself a sincere chance here.

  

 

Sprite.


Blind bats frequent your head,
Flick switch, blast tycoon said :

"!"

Instant combustible sprites,
Burn now and then, for foreign pupils,
And leave
No waxy trace,
No bones or wings of steel.

Steal my head
From flower show garden lovers,
Frequently absent.

"In absentia"

Gorn, forget the visiting troops,
Forget 'Home Rule !'


Never before, never again.

I will love you as much as you need.