Homage: Reeves

As poets go, this one is an inspiration and great honour to know. Ladies and gents, @openmikepoet

Note to the son: 1

I saw you today.
deep in my happy-time dream
as the sun shone through the clouds
landing on the lavender covered fields,
and the re-greening branches,
and the brown carpet
magnificently laid across the woods,
and the silver barbed wire fence,
and the tarmac.

You smiled,
with a face I recognised but forget,
increasing my longing with your call to play.
running from bark to fresh bark
at a pace my bones can’t follow.
past the border of our clearing,
into the deep away,
enticing yet fraying the dream.

Once beaming, I frowned,
crowning my hearts love for you
with the anguish of waiting,
assailed by the strengthening anxiety
that actually – and far from your fiction:
my affliction may indeed be
that you may never come.

I slay the beast with mortal weapons,
he heals and rises up again,
casting his shadow with a cloud
over the discoloured lavender,
chocking the daffodils with rain,
drenching the forest floor so
that ir’s muddy snares slow my bones
as they attempt –
as they attempt –
as they attempt –
to run after you.

Fingertips away from bark,
ears to the lark.
vision spurning in the blackness of waking,
of half empty chalices,
and poorly marked tarmac.

But…
I saw you!

© Denis Adide 2013

The outstretched arms of Love

There were no clouds when I set off; none.
Clear skies and sunshine,
Hope and songs of praise,
Fields of daffodils and tulips,
posies and forget-me-nots,
Chariots of fire.

But the Darkness I blamed You for fell
And for hours the sky turned black,
the wind blew dust into my eyes
the waves disobeyed the horizon
and spilled their showers mightily
over the untrodden path through beeches
that I could just about make out.
Feet sinking in the mud
I began to regret leaving the boat.

Lamma Sabach Thani

“look up” You said.
And at the foot of the first tree
I saw the streak of blood
still trickling down.
Up from my muddy hands I saw soiled feet
scarred marathon worn calves
lines from the leather straps.
Buckling knees and exposed hamstrings.

Dice in my hands.

Scars that aren’t healing
a dying life without end
and outstretched arms of love
under whose tension the slumped crown
drops tears, seals of my salvation,
down onto my brow.

‘behold I make all things new’

Hope and songs of praise,
Fields of daffodils and tulips,
posies and forget-me-nots,
Chariots of fire.

© Denis Adide 2013

After the silence

“… An awful lot of coming and going and swooping round of Christmas presents and the young rushing down to the shops for last minute things; at the moment there are quite a number of boxes of sweets, etc, here… That’s all very well here, but who are we bombing this Christmas Eve, Christmas Eve, who are we bombing on Christmas night, when the snow lies thick on the ground oh? This bloody silly war”.

Naomi Mitchinson

 

Worth a thought no?

Play the game

I will give you all this if you bow down and worship me

It is with a great disappointment, especially in myself, that I find this being the mode of the world: that in some cases, honesty – and all the vulnerability it requires – yields pain, sorrow, and failure. Tomorrow I face an interesting situation, the heart says break and be true, the mind says be as true as you can without breaking. The heart says be honest and yeild control, the mind says control and be safe. Deep down there is the knowledge that controlling is actually unsafe because it takes power away from heaven – whose loving heart yearns only for my Good (or at least I hope). Voices, externally and internally however, have made their opinions known: this world isn’t ideal and has no patience for optimistic (what they call naive) idealists.

It will quickly chew up and spit out what is not bone

Have you ever felt the fear of being known – understood – and not rejected? Scared by the idea that your scars would not repel? Or that what you may receive for your openness is an embrace? This is the place where true choice – the determinant of character – resides: in the decision to manage what you know, or step into the unknown (or rather the un-experienced – because you already know it).

Maelstroms (see picture) can either destroy or propel depending on the sailor. Confidence, skill, and grace are key.

In the desert He knew Himself

I’m unable to sleep out of pure anxiety. Seek me tomorrow and see if hope was victorious over fear.