Always

 

Always

 

The coat you gave me no longer fits,

and the name you chose doesn't mean that anymore.

 

I finished the books you gave me,

and now I've written my own.

Thank you for taking the time.

 

I saw your empty shoes, ready in a line,

I wouldn't fill them, and hesitate to try.

 

I'm still trying to find a coat that fits,

that I can call my own,

And now you've gone I cannot show you

how much further I've gone.

 

I re-read the books you gave me.

I hear what you wanted to say,

and I'll always have your compass -

that shows me the direction,

of where I'm heading.

Hindsight is late

 

- the final poem from last year's competitions:

 

Hindsight is late

 

The day before was unremarkable

The future barely rippled by the time it was over.

 

The day before devoid of rumours or disquiet

A xerox of many days before, a little less sharp, 

a little blurred,

As copies of copies tend to go.

 

The day before I kissed you goodnight, softy and present

unaware of the significance, now thankful that I did.

Absent-mindedly tidied around me, 

reset plans for the next day.

Ticked some lists, added a few more prompts.

Locked doors, swept crumbs, straightened piles

rubbed the tired rings under my eyes,

pulled curtains on the moonlit street

and set my head down, soon gone

 

oh for such mundane memories

of a utopia of slow uneven progress

a naive paradise of possibilities

yet now, those distant echoes I won’t let go 

 

Maybe 2026

 

Another competition entry, this got an honourable mention which was nice. It was written in all sincerity, however, I came to run through it before reading at an event, and as I reached the later parts it increasingly started to sound like I was trying to convince myself of something that was doomed to fail. So read it either way, a sincere attempt, or a comical self-delusion:

 

 

Maybe 2026

 

My mind stretches, elasticates,

To a future day, three months maybe four

in the new year ahead.

I pin a date, and slide my thoughts to there

far enough to leave today behind,

and look beyond and back from that flag,

imagining a future, already ahead of schedule.

Blueprints complete, hands on the wheel, 

reaching a critical mass -

I see development, progress, accomplishment, 

 

I see the steps taken to get here, and the steps beyond

I see the possibilities and feel the faith to get there

The mountains in my mind, a series of steps, each achievable

And the view beyond makes me giddy

 

Maybe 2026 will be the year

the year when I clear the old clutter away

And start new challenges at last

it’s in Your hands

Freedom is a collective

 

I

Freedom is an illusion, incomplete

Freedom-to and freedom from intersect

Compromise forms the frameworks of society

A tension and balance

of rights, and rules, and freedoms

Man-made morality on divine principles

 

II

An early release, the hour’s mine

A responsive purr, a smooth turn out

Windows at half mast, soft air ruffles

‘Sign o’ the Times’ fills the interior

A little escapes, into the slipstream, an audio aroma

every pressure fell away, mute joy -

remembered often

 

III

light sweeps the corners clean

returning safe shadows

health is freedom-to

without fear-of

 

IV

One day, closer now than ever

regrets and frustrations will fade away

no longer of consequence

The race is run, the clocks runs down, it is finished

And we can head home, truly home, free at last

 

Aspects of Faith

 

Very pleased to be selected for Paddlers Press Volume 15 with my poem Aspects of Faith 

- https://paddlerpress.ca/product/paddler-press-vol-15-faith/

 

Aspects of Faith

 

I

His faith in me is unwavering

Why, I shun the gift ?

 

II

The world shouts, pleads, whispers -

What I need

is to be taught, inspired and comforted

To navigate not succumb

Give me headphones, not blinkers

 

III

It’s there in the storm, my spine

holding everything together

But where does it go on days of success ?

Abandoned in noise and colour

as if the two were oil and water

Until the lonely grey descends

and I’m holding fast again

 

IV

Taking risks, not reckless

Aligned with purpose

step by step

 

V

A rise of fortune and I forget

a God who blesses at a stroke

If only I could remember, all things change

and yet eternity hasn’t moved an inch

 

VI

I’m anchored on a chain

which I lengthen, ‘til I reach dangerous waters

still connected as I turn away

 

VII

Sometimes you carried me, I saw the footprints

And sometimes you led me, through minefields,

always my shield and guide

I wandered

then felt the damage done

mercy teaches compassion

 

VIII

From this scaffold I see the contours of history,

And the tussle for my soul

The path to paradise and the wolves at the door

Where this me came from and where he could go

 

IX

The Spirit who gifts faith, acts by faith, and holds faith to account

says stop trying to be, and draw closer.

 

 

 

paddlerpress.ca

Paddler Press Volume 15 – Faith

A few of my favourite things

 This just a bit of fun nonsense that came out of a writing exercise:

 

A few of my favourite things

I like when a song spirals almost out of control

A wildness, a madness, yeah rock n roll

 

I like the heat of a scorching shower

And the geometric intricacies of some types of flowers

I like cold feet when my temperature’s raised

And do get a buzz if my poetry’s praised

 

I like heavy metal and I like reggae

Anything that might give you a headache

I like to live in a song for a week

I’d rather write than stand up and speak

 

I like to hear smart people say smart things

And for singers to sing, and funny people do their thing

That every voice is distinctive

And recognition seems instinctive

 

I liked the day when the nit-nurse came

And massaged my scalp

And then checked me once again

 

I like blue skies, and I like sky blue

And antimetaboles*, a term that’s new

Like ‘ask not what your country can do . . ‘

 

I like a whole raft of random things

Sea lions, and proper defending

Genuine smiles and walking for miles

Marmalade on toast and birthday post

 

I like the hot sweaty grip of a baby’s fingers

I couldn’t think of a rhyme so I’ll let that one linger

 

I like nectarines

And movies set on submarines

Femme fatales with dangerous curves

And the courage of men who kept their nerve

 

I like to know there’s people like you

Who make space for us, to do what we do

 

I like pretentiousness

slogans that sound clever,

And bad rhymes

meaning this is contrived

to finish with Trevor.

[* AN-ti-mə-TAB-ə-lee-s ]