Bed-mate, not wrong
Simply different, this IS,
The simple nature of truth!
Relish rare, but make it
No less equal. Your customary
Conventions are not mine,
And do not assume, despite
What has changed, that
I will make them so. You
Demand mono…in gods and sex,
And much else besides,
when anything but, seems ‘natural’,
and so the Bible tells me …
check it out, mythology old,
and new, are much the same.
Dancing, a commonality of
Both desire and requirement
Of god(s) is a boon, the spirit
Like wild words of abandonment
On the page, sets us free…try it!

I like ‘boyfriend’, denied me
In my youth and beyond,
now partner and hubby suffice,
was once referred to as,
his ‘Squeeze’.
Measure me if you will,
But I will not be tamed,
and have escaped the chains
of your snivelling darkness
he cries. We all should,
cheer for those that still carry
the torch and challenge
each day with free will
the murky failure of the
status-quo, sameness,
settling, fitting in, chains.
Dance on the page, dance
In your choices, and
Most importantly of all
Dance with your bed mate.

I wish I was on Slemish Mountain
Hot heathers scents in my hair
With Hares and Ravens around me
Looking out from St Patrick’s Chair

On here they once set bonfires
Celebrating the New Year’s birth
But church and other oppression
Have ended that traditional mirth

The faeries have all been forgotten
The great mound no longer holds sway
I miss the old magic and mysteries
And the passing of the elders hey-day

Now there is a car park and pathway
And the mountain is barely a hill
And people climb it in high heels
Never hearing the larks pitched shrill

I wish I was on Slemish Mountain
Feeling the wind strip me to the bone
With eagles and St Patrick’s spirit, to
Remind me that this county’s home.

A black crow clings
To the rim of an old clay chimney pot
One of four, above the wet slate roof
Like an oil slick on a dark sea
Its very own titanic.

A gull, wings rigid and angled,
Like a kite, battles forward
Against the prevailing, whilst
A pigeon hurtles, wings tight in
The opposite way.

Dull light on heavy clouds
Burden the day and echo,
along, around and above,
there is no other sound
just waiting

Day 70

What is your taboo
A graveyard, that food, this word
and who decided?

Day 71 Triad

Three lodestars for relationships
An open heart
An open mind
An open ear

Day 72 A Triad

Three Lodestars for relationships
It is about actual people
It is about actual communication
It is about actual lives

Day 73
Dead

A one eyed goldfinch
A stumbling one eyed red fox
I came out as ‘green’

Day 74

Sea scented brisk winds
A grandsons voice and laughter
Joy can be simple.

Day 75

A full moon, clear sky
Dawn chorus, natures evensong
Joy is curious

Day 76

A good parents love
sharing your home with others
Joy is emphatic

Day 77

Social media
The most common way to talk
Joy can be clumsy

Day 78

Walk head looking down
Walking internally talking
Joy can be pensive.

Day 79

Fire flies dance at dusk
A Kingfisher poised to dive
Joy IS in nature

Day 80

A stream tumbles on
The river flows to the sea
Joy is a journey

Day 81

A song remembers
Spoken words call forth fresh tears
Joy can be bereaved

Day 82

Triangular notes
Plucked it resonates, sings, owns.
Joy may be ancient

Day 83

Smoke fills space and clings
Old words, new words, silent words
Joy is mystical

Day 84

Man screams at himself
Panda jolts at its cubs sneeze
My joy is absurd!

Day 85

Just for this one day
Say, whatever comes to mind!
Joy could be quite rude.

Day 86

Ever-present past
Get curious with your shame
Endeavor for joy

Day 87

An ex can keep tabs
We move on but, some lack trust
Is joy coveted

Day 88

Minds with dicks attached
that’s sexy and erotic
mercurial joy

Day 89 🙂

A son works long shifts
Grandson needs looking after
Joy is exhausting

Day 90

A detonation
lives bartered,shuffled, injured
joy is, surviving?

Day 91

Awaken, a child
memories of fireman’s poles
Joy is puzzling.

Day 92

Small bruised loved tokens
Exchanges of passions heat
joy is a hickey

Day 93

I survived but why?
all radicalized world wars
enigmatic joy

Day 94

Beer in ice cold glass
Full English beside the pool
Joy enters through the mouth

Day 95

A Hoopoe flies past
A connection with nature
Rediscovered joy

Day 96

The finger traces
Lines,curves, eyes, a frigate bird
There was joy in pain.

Day 97

Inked art, bold image
A pilgrimage memory
Joy is a tattoo

Day 98

A gay nudist beach
All shapes and sizes, most shorn
Joy is a lush bush

Day 99!!!!!

Bright sunlight invades
Warmth and light awaken you
Joy is hot plasma

So day 100. I have learned that I will always write and that sometimes it works and at others well as the teachers would say ‘needs to try harder’. Inspiration is important and mindfulness too. That a poet may try sometimes to write on a bigger theme / idea but most will assume it’s about him/her ….. Or them. Finally … I like haiku’s and need to practice my triads more.

Day 100 (with thanks to the chiff chaff and blackbirds singing around me in Gran Canaria.)

Same birds, different song
Accents, dialects in nature
Joy is difference.

A sea blue sea shell
Alone in a vast empty well
A tiny turquoise conch
Barely able to staunch
What might flow from within?
Some malignant original sin
A deep well of sadness
A void around and surrounds
A tide of tiredness
A wave of fatigue

Muscle
Cocks
Fetishes
Beards
Manliness
Why so
When a kiss
A gentle embrace
A lingering
Touch
A less
Is more
Look
Is far more
Erotic
Intimate
Connecting
Luring.

So I looked,
Face to face with He,
In the mirror, and
In the forever busy brain
In the darkness of the mind.
Who are you, what do you want,
What do you see?
Why am and What am I… me.
The red is grey and now,
You want the red back, ironic.
And there is age, sageness
Lucky enough to be
But; oh for a second chance!
There is memory, lines of
People, places, cars and
Faces.
Schools, walks and talks.
And life. Time seems too fast
And time feels too short.
The eyes still see and
All the other senses function
For now. Although
Six of them hardly seems enough.
There are broken things,
Mended things,
Lost and discarded things.
Lots of new things too,
And they are quite, well
Quite the surprise.
Full of life,
And purpose
Of energy and challenge.
And the blood pumps freely
In all sorts of ways and
For all sorts of reasons,
Yes the heart is very full.
Life began at 18, then 40 then 50.
Now each day, anew
Has me face to face
Heart to heart.
Knowing only I can thwart
The destiny and joy of this old
Piece of abstract art.

Day 83

Smoke fills space and clings
Old words, new words, silent words
Joy is mystical

Day 82

Triangular notes
Plucked it resonates, sings, owns.
Joy may be ancient

Day 81

A song remembers
Spoken words call forth fresh tears
Joy can be bereaved

Day 80

A stream tumbles on
The river flows to the sea
Joy is a journey

Day 79

Fire flies dance at dusk
A Kingfisher poised to dive
Joy IS in nature

Day 78

Walk head looking down
Walking internally talking
Joy can be pensive.

Day 77

Social media
The most common way to talk
Joy can be clumsy

Day 76

A good parents love
sharing your home with others
Joy is emphatic

Day 75

A full moon, clear sky
Dawn chorus, natures evensong
Joy is curious

Day 74

Sea scented brisk winds
A grandsons voice and laughter
Joy can be simple.

Day 73
Dead

A one eyed goldfinch
A stumbling one eyed red fox
I came out as ‘green’

Day 72 A Triad

Three Lodestars for relationships
It is about actual people
It is about actual communication
It is about actual lives

Day 71 Triad

Three lodestars for relationships
An open heart
An open mind
An open ear

Day 70

What is your taboo
A graveyard, that food, this word
and who decided?

Day 69

The wave IS the form
Blood, breath,sea, stroke of a brush.
Do you see the colour?

I feel it
Words, a heavy hand,
Anxiety, learned well
Nurtured early.
The body absorbs this reflex and
The mind grows numb,
But really gated, secure
With boundaries, fated
And enslaving.
Life is then a script,
Someone else’s
Monologue, that
We then own.
BUT;
Dogmas come with
Their own ambiguity
Blind spots. Breeding,
Mistrust, distrust,
Lies, killing joy.
Abandoning the
I, the we, the us.
Restraint fosters
Familiar rampancy.
A natural native
Liberty of mind
And body. So we fuck;
With the re-proof
and damnation.
We revoke restrain
And forsake sacrifice.
Joy has many faces, many
Shapes, smells, spaces.
Life is bare, and
Compact curtailed.
And death is too certain
And unyielding.
I shall do; and You?

Day 68

Is it just sci-fi,
many interacting worlds.
Quantum mechanics

Day 67

Body fully charged
Heart bound in twister of light
mother earth welcomes

Day 66

Not just any tree
This one marks, shields and supports
Not the only hard wood

Day 65

Nature witnesses
Wren, Robin,Blackbird & Raven
Echoes silenced them

Day 64

His mantra shadowed
Life leading to that ruin
Travel does save lives

Day 63 Family

Stone masons,Farmers
Eel fishermen and Tanners
this apple fell far….

Day 62

Lost from the bright light
In long abandoned tunnels
this is the wrong path

Day 61 ( an old ‘love-poem’ one of three posted t my blog)

(my) Love needs, must be hard,
To endure, support and survive.
Love will be tested

Day 60

A child’s first painting,
like the fathers hangs now too
When I’m gone, what then?

Day 59

A friend in need is
Amicus certus in re incerta
Is a friend in deed

Day 58 Politics

No, seems the default
The gravy train, means perhaps
Deadline = wisecrack

Day 57

How many women
who’s sageness has touched my life
do I count as friends?

Day 56

Samhain is coming
Trees wear a different colour
winds gift, leaf blizzard