PURPLE

Above long purple velvet boots

Stride shapely legs determined

To walk a unique path

From shoulder swings a purple bag

Contents can be guessed or not

Somethings are better left alone.

On her head perhaps a purple hat

Her gloved hand may one day hold

A walking aid to strike railings loud

Time will tell if all this comes true

I make bold to predict

A fun future of eccentric liberty

For She who wears well Purple !

© MRL  Sept 23rd 2018

Conformity never a fault of mine

It was all so long ago those other lives of mine

I was a son to parents that I did not understand

A pupil for teachers to lead me by the nose

To policeman who stopped to interrogate my moves

They’re now all gone, the authoritarians to their graves

While I in my preciousness am still alive, always a rebel !

Independent thought is my means to find another way

Look at old problems turn them on their head

Every scene looks better when turned up side down

Life is a spiral they say, except that I jumped its lines

My indomitable spirit threw away their rule book

For conformity has never been a fault of mine.

I am and shall remain on the outer edges of the lines

Escaping by forms that go beyond expectations

Living the life of freedom, committed to eccentricity

Challenging political nonsense, lifting lids peering

Beyond the stale and stalled to seek an alternative

Prance ostentatious ? Yes that it may be but mine!

I seek not followers, for lead I shall not

Other than to encourage you to find freedom

To think and inwardly deliberate on how to abscond

Those chains of command, rules and obdurate laws.

For I drank before my birth from a cup that screamed

Loudly of Liberty!

   © MRL 22/02/2018

for Thea-Valerie

Come sit with me and let our minds drift

across a surface of polished water glass

Look deep beneath to see what arrives

Perhaps a memory of times past, 

An old yearning sweetly perfumed

As fresh as ever scintillates excites.

I sense your hand on my arm 

Warm and gentle your touch

As we walked a harbour side

It grieved me then knowing

That your dying was soon to be

On a date unknown to us both.

Today as I sit alone and not alone

I hear ripples of laughter,

her voice in deep bluesy songs

That echo from a hidden shore to mine

She is only half a whisper away 

so very very close yet I cannot see…..

© MRL 17-02- 2016

THREE SEASONS

The Season is getting tired I can feel it in my bones

It is to me late summer my year of three seasons

Now approaches mid October next month is Winter

Cold damp air will burst strongly down upon us.

Swirling fogs slithering with purpose over bogs

Melting fallen leaves into a dark rich mulch.

My old kin knew only Winter, Spring and Summer 

Enough for them and sufficient to feed me.

The vigour of dark nights star filled sparkling

Tangible air crisp vapours secrete silently upwards

Grass crunches like shards of glass under foot

O so strong, this glorious embracing time.

Late December new light is born to minutely stretch

Illuminate an ice coated lake with frost fringed edge

Pillowed snow sleeps quietly to glow under full moon

A covens chant mingles with owls cry as love abides

Waking mother earth to stir revive bring alive babes

Who under hot Summer sun seemingly died.

© MRL  Oct 10th 2015

Two Echoes of Birr

In a library loft listening

as children’s chirrups 

rise noisily from below

Suddenly no sound

Am I struck deaf ?

No just power of “Shush!”

Sitting sipping coffee

on yellow chair by table

and eating cake.

I see her black bag with decal

of shining silver leaves

with bright picked pearls

Shining brightly.

© MRL Sept 26 2015

A Bealtain Ode

Bealtáine Joys

O the joys of merry May when lovers to 

 hill sides go hand in hand gaily dancing 

carefree to their hidden bower!

© MRL 1/5/2015

The Tuareg Man

   This is a poem recently composed by an old friend of mine Lin Hennessy  who lives in Somerset UK. I slowly read it out loud to myself, twice and found it to be very soothing I hope it's images do the same for you.

TUAREG MAN

The spirit of a tuareg man

              came to me, 

                    dressed in the light, the blue of the sky,

...........................in the blue robes

     He danced for  me

            and for his land

                   so i could see,

   His bare feet touching, 

      gentle

         moving 

            on his beloved,

               The SAHARA.

Gentle,...... gentle,
         movement, his feet in tune with the land,
                 the shifting, golden sands
                            and the singing stars

He the axis.

            He wore the blue veil,

                   To hide his beauty

                        But,  I ,  can see his, beauty
                                and

                             The harmony of his land.

     So he taught,

           me how to dance again,

                 so i too, 

                

          am
                          dancing the light,

                           dancing the land.

I thank him, for holding the light

Valentines day 2015

© Lin Hennessy

CELEBRATING 72

Celebrating 72

Having now had a birthday and being undecided 

about my age. Am I twenty-seven or seventy-two 

because I only feel thirty-five inside ?

Site soothed eyes

How enticing looked
each side 
a mountain
green of smooth silk
ripe and lush
Tempted my eyes
lustily to roam
enjoy  savour
sweet freshness
beneath my tongue
to dance over 
swirl sip swallow 
deep inside 
a joy of wonder !

© MRL 11.01.15