Much of the poems here were written over 30 years ago at a time in my life where I was looking for intellectual challenges and answers to all things. It was a time of much confusion and having a high intellect with nothing to apply it to can be a very difficult and frustrating burden. As they say ignorance is bliss and if that is true then the opposite can be considered painful and somewhat torturous. So much of this was written at a time in my life when I felt lost. It seems, now, looking back at much of my work that I spent more energy on trying to challenge the technical side of poetry moreso than trying to perfect the message of the poem. Lyrical poetry felt natural to me and I explored lyrical forms such as Sonnets, Dizains, Haikus and many other simply for the challenge. Not satisfied with this I then tried to create poems with inner lyrical structure to the point where I have no doubt that some of the poems are actually all the lesser for my meddling. Rather than hide them away in order to present myself in as perfect a light as possible, I feel it is important to be honest as an artist and that means not only showing growth but showing everything. To that end I decided they should have a place among my other, more pleasing works. To that end I hope you find something that inspires or resonates.
BROTHERS’ PARTING STONE
Curiously Adapted Sonnet
Dedicated to Peter Tomlinson, for the constant reminder of true, inspired, companionship and to the spiritual communion that may be obtained beyond one’s own self, the flower of friendship that blooms all the while souls touch. May parting not be the only circumstance by which we come to appreciate this fact, for then the brotherhood of mankind will surely be lost, like a single tear in a vast, desolate ocean.
“Do not let this sad, sad parting, be engraved in heavy stone
To remind you as you journey how it feels to be alone!”
Let the waves that crash beside it remind you all life must flow
And the golden light of friendship, let it guide you as you go.
Dear brother John,
hoist up my weary, sunken heart –
I haul torn thoughts, now, like old sails across this sea
Knowing that moment then, back when you did depart,
Love would be lost – forever – lost – for you, and me.
That time, before this day, when my treasure-map mind
Was swimming with the prelude off another shore,
Came a Mariner’s tale, of twice the cruelist kind.
Now the epilogue’s wrecked. Now I can write no more
of two kindred souls who, while journeying the earth,
moored up awhile together by a harbour-light;
Two spirits radiated – One Soul burning bright:
Friendships true communion…
but to have known its worth!
‘Dearest brother Will, in each tear, each single wave,
My life ebbs and flows freeing all the love I save!’
.
(Dedicated to John and William Wordsworth – on their final parting.)
*The ‘Parting Stone’, which is inscribed to commemorate this event, is at Grisdale Tarn near Grasmere. It is a huge boulder that was deposited during the ice age.
*Prelude is the title of the works that preoccupied William after his immediate return to Dove Cottage.
*Mariner’s Tale refers to the ‘Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner’ by S. T. Coleridge.
HIGHER LOVE
There is a love – a higher love,
That whispers on the nightly breeze;
As Angels tempt, from realms above
The very moon, out from the trees.
I hear them in each aching hour,
When holding forth this empty heart –
My lonely cries, my tears turned sour
Try steal the moon, tear her apart.
So sing my sweet, my sweet Selene,
Of times when laughter was the way,
To woo this lover to thy dream
Forever in a love-long day.
Then tread swift footsteps, ‘midst the dew
To wake the world with diamond eyes,
But hear my heartbeat calling you
Before you go, to soar, to rise;
To feel that higher love – Oh I
Would give my life and gladly die.
ON SWEET, SWEET SKIN
I do not understand how eyes
Can tear me from the tick of time.
I only know I’m mesmerised
By yours, that’s why I write this rhyme;
To speak the thoughts I’d dare let out,
Whilst fingering your soft, dark, hair,
Your neck I’d stroke until you shout:
”Oh kiss me, gently, there, and there!”
Oh you the master, I the slave,
In moments that your gaze commands.
And how it makes me want and crave
To lay you down with tender hands.
To kiss the troubles from your skin
And soothe your waking nights t’ward sleep -
Until the new day should begin -
Your heart I’d hold and safely, keep.
On sweet, sweet skin, a promised kiss
For eyes that show me all of this!
A MOTHERS THOUGHTS AT CHRISTMAS-TIME - AD30
Oh lowly Jesus, meek and mild,
My, how you've grown my infant child
From when I laid you last, in reeds,
To such a man known by great deeds.
Yet always shall my eye retain
A mark so fixed before that gain,
When swaddling clothes I wrapped around
My child, who wise men somehow found;
Then lost you, just as quick as I
To purposes that took you by.
A greater sum than mother's grief
Your Father gave to me - belief
And courage strong unto attain
My presence till we meet again;
When time no longer leaves me here
Alone, with just a birthday tear.
Each Christmas time that comes anew
I'll light a candle, say to you -
Oh lowly Jesus, meek and mild,
My how you've grown, my infant child.
A NEW-BORN PROMISE
A 'Dizain' verse form.
Oh Child, such joy enfolds my tempered heart,
So rapt in wonder at your new-born stare,
That all-prior moments from your presence part,
To leave me only with you, lying there;
Engaged with feelings knowing no compare.
At last, my truth, in majesty revealed
The birth of all beginnings once concealed:
A spark-divine to tame the ways of wild,
Who arced and charged me as protective shield;
A guardian for my precious new-born child!
BROKEN SKYLINE
‘Liberty's’ torch,
A symbol once ablaze
With the fire of freedom,
Now hidden from view
By billowing plumes
Of debris and dust
Sent to choke and strangle.
America's heart
Pierced from within,
And all around
Its people crumble;
Toppled by a blow
Delivered to wake
The sleeping giant.
Globally
the shock wave spread;
seismic tremors shaking.
Homes tossed into chaos…
awaiting the hand of fate to show
A reason.
IS ALL – I HAVE TO SAY!
“…when the game has gone on long enough, all of us will wake up, stop pretending, and remember that we are all one single Self –
the God who is all that there is and who lives for ever and ever.”
The Book On The Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are – Alan Watts Jan 1966 – p21
A man lies, alone –
Far off from the rest of humanity –
Contemplating his moments
Under the far-flung stars;
Questioning the dice’s roll
And each roll of his dice.
All that surrounds him,
All that he perceives, seem mere fragments –
Pieces – of some greater, awe-inspiring
Totality. One that exists
Outside of his sum total
And continues thereon, beyond.
One to which he is left
Feeling… as that solitary star, he notices –
One, amongst billions – soon to burn out –
Fearing to be nothing more than cosmic dust
Amidst the cold, dark, enveloping universe,
Not knowing that all is everything
And everything is all.
A single star – looks down upon the man
And wonders if
It’s light too will ever fade, flicker,
Just as the seemingly dying, candle below it,
Unillumined and energyless.
To end up as indistinguishable as he,
A mess of fluidic matter, on a mass
Of molten rock, soon to evaporate,
Soon to become particles again;
Particles among particles.
Having been nothing more than chance –
Than randomly caused effect –
That would be a tragedy,
That would be the end,
Not knowing that all is everything
And everything is all.
Meanwhile…
The cogs of life turn
And the perspective whole
A
L
T
E
R
S!
CONCRETE FLOWERS
Dedicated to William Wordsworth - A few lines written in Spring 1999.
Here my natural haven waits, amidst the rise of baulking towers;
dug back from slabbed-horizon homes, where dogged-workers daily walk
and traffic pinches through the endless queue. Among the gentler hours
I sit, alone, with those that come – the lovers who do touch and talk –
to stay awhile beside the pond; to listen to the breathing flowers.
Such symphonies remain unheard; no time for some, the price too dear!
Attention paid to pressing calls – accosted by a phone that's loud –
that will not cease. To find release from all that’s forged and built on fear,
I raise the truth and fill my space, free from man’s restraining shroud;
immersed within such depths of peace, beside the fallen, God-like tear.
Don't they notice from their high rise? It seems the view to top them all!
Beyond, the eyes are lost to haze; to screaming newborns left alone.
Trapped, yet free, many see no able means – escape the pain and fall –
multi-stories: tales of madness printed in the cold, bloody stone.
As stops the beating of a heart, no peace, can those now left recall.
Yet here the rising tension falls, finding its shape in love not hate.
And shadows balance, now restored – re-stealing space that bends, as time
shifts its weighty hand. As planned the cosmic blueprint grows and fate
divine links voice to greater scales. While overtures of flowers climb
and concrete headstones crumble down, I seek the guiding light and wait.
CRACKS IN THE PAVING
‘I see the rural virtues leave the land.’
Oliver Goldsmith - The Deserted Village (1770) I. 398
The church bells chime this early morning hour;
a crier of old proclaiming time
throughout this slumbered land. And,
although unrested, I am aware
that the LED display on my new computer
reads not 06.00, but 05.59:
reliable proof that
man can make measure of his failings –
when given the right tools for the job.
Being early
is just as much an inconvenience as being
late;
agendas demand it…
………………now!
Appointments must be kept timely
in order
to synchronise one’s schedule.
There is no margin for error.
Time cannot change, cannot be altered;
Only clocks!
I pray the vicar knows!
Perhaps I should send him a memo?
He needs to be informed –
kept up on things like changes,
or there'll be hell to pay on Sunday
when they go off early.
They don’t like that
round here. Life runs at their pace
round here. They'll not quicken.
Round here, today is yesterday and
tomorrow has yet to be allotted.
Being an import he probably hasn't bedded in yet,
(not like the locals - home-grown stock
still-rooted in disciplined soil),
but they'll give him the training he needs.
They'll nurture his nature to their ways,
the old ways; ways that work –
ways that constantly rest development.
A meeting will be held first.
In the Town Hall 'one and all' will attend
to discuss the issue and together
they will decide a course
of action.
Teamwork is their motto - the standard
they keep. All backs to the plough,
but the plough cannot change the way
The paving sets. They cannot change the way
The road leads.
Despite their unanimosity
every road has three directions:
Forwards fast and ….
…………………back
aren't only, all;
The road going nowhere
leads to change
and it is already showing that
there are…
Cracks in the Paving.
DEAR JOHN!
You think I don’t know, all about you,
Don’t you!
Well let me just tell you ~ you’re wrong.
I could,
If I wanted to,
Mention, one thing or two;
On this course that you drag me along.
I could make you listen - Sit up,
Take notice,
For once in your life. And
I would;
If it weren’t for the constant lie.
Yes ~ I would maybe try,
But I can’t find a reason I should.
There’s nothing to salvage, worth keeping,
From this;
The love’s been abused ~ you’re to blame.
All the memories I’d hoped for,
Stab like wounds, bleeding red
Raw;
Ignited, this moth caught the flame.
And don’t you deny it ~ I know
How you play.
Of course I’m a little upset.
But I’ve known for a while,
So lets drop that smug-smile,
As my words are now all that you get.
Just go! To your lover, what’s her name;
I don’t care.
I’m rebuilding my life and my heart.
Just get out of my sight,
Leave right now ~ not tonight.
You’ve been packed and I’m ready
To part.
DESIGNS
‘BUILDING BRIDGES’
“And so in life we build our mantle – piece by piece
We watch it grow.
But should a bridge, we cross, dismantle; just release
And let it go!
Each river must be crossed, so crying
Only makes the journey sore.
Be strong when faced with faith that’s dying
To give in, then build some more.”
Ian Deal 08/01/99
I’ve always shaped my life,
So what’s this life I’m leading?
I've always read the signs,
But now, what do they say?
I never saw the knife,
Whose cut started my bleeding;
For all the wrong designs,
It seems that I must pay!
I should have made it so
Such moments could not hurt me.
I should have taken care
On each and every day.
But now it’s come, I know
That’s how, in life, it must be;
So now I must prepare
For that which comes my way.
It’s true, you never know,
What lies around each corner.
And what may make us mad
Must see the light of day.
We must go on and grow
It’s no use being a mourner
The tears we shed, when sad,
Will slowly drift away.
Regard it as the test,
That God must always give you.
If he’s to know what role
That you’d be suited for.
Each moment needs a rest
Before we see the next through;
A chance to seize our goal,
Our dream, life has in store.
So know I’ll take this chance
And use it, like no other.
It will not get me down;
No more, I will not give.
I’ll learn to sing and dance
And hope will be my lover;
I’ll wear my brightest gown
And I will truly live!
DIZZY AGAIN! (The Realities Of Parental Discussion.)
A 'Dizain' verse form.
"I found a Fairy in the garden Mum!"
My daughter said - grabbing biscuits for play;
(leaving me of course to clear up each crumb).
"She's having a Birthday party today;"
"Oh really," I asked; "What time? - did she say?"
Well something I said corrected her stance,
Shifting her weight, before twisting her glance;
"I expected," said she, better from you.
Fairies don't talk, they don't sing, they just dance:
And know something else - she's called Lucy too!"
ENTWINE
Dawn's choir of calling,
breaks in mind;
‘cross crimson-curtain
high.
Come hot, damp haze –
brakes’ soothing dew –
lift up
Creations eye!
Life drench me through,
as would be
deed;
None better than to do!
Can comfort's last!
I wander past,
where neither eye
sees true?
At grasses-edge
I gather footsteps,
lay them, lost,
to time.
Cold thought prevails,
long, fall-leafed trails,
where lonely-souls
Entwine.
FIRED UP!
"We must assume that there exists a powerful factor outside our globe which governs the development of events in human societies and synchronises them with the Sun's activity; the electrical energy of the Sun is the superterrestrial factor which influences historical processes." Chizhevsky 1926 (Russian Scientist)
Fired up by Cosmic forces and all universal thought,
Am I - a spark that ignites from the source - the one
True flame that burns its glorious way into history. A link
To all that belonged and wishes to become. A Life part;
Positive matter that has been charged and found wanting of mind,
Finding its energy, seeking the spirit of place - the destined
Journey where knowing-all fires the pulse as one.
My time, my place, will be revealed, answered, as questions
Yet untapped, unfold among the ever increasing expansion
Pushing at the boundaries and borders of the limitless whole.
And I? I shall follow, guided by unseen forces, the influences
And wisdom from others that coexist and who always will.
Guided to reach the illuminated realm of the imagination
Where the flame is fanned to meld with the Creator and to
Create; to exist forever, a vision in the mind's eye. Truly
A vision that encompasses all colours and all hues in obvious
Complementarity. A brilliant rainbow, forged by the conscious
Hand bridging the entire expanse of space-time, knowing
Of every dimension, to last an eternity. Blazing
My trail across the heavens
All can view my soul; then surely all will know:
I exist and am one with the Universe -
Fired up by Cosmic forces and all universal thought!
GUILTY?
Stand accused – I – for thoughts,
when I should kneel to pray;
for those wonderful times
(Oh my Lord!)
when I’ve gazed
toward her soul,
as my heart seeks her heart,
with an amorous mind
in accord.
Yet should sentence, received,
(from this compliment offered)
fare as crimes charged with guilt,
courts my mind?
For the beat of my heart
has no murders committed,
just the wish
of our hands
intertwined.
Even now, as I call
thoughts to witness, this deed,
to confess,
be you judge of my cause.
For I speak now, on oath:
Oh your eyes! Made me promise:
Darkened pools, locked in kiss
I am yours!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Come raise your glass in merry cheer,
Give birth to thought, resolve the year.
Forget your foes - unite in peace;
Drink up your full, let fighting cease.
Join hand in hand, let laughter loose,
As twelve bells sound their friendly truce;
A day has passed and so a year:
Come!
Raise your glass in merry cheer.
HEART SPLIT IN TWO
“Why won’t Daddy love me Mummy -
Why is he not here?
Is it cause I’m naughty Mummy?”
(Wipes away a tear)
“Is it cause I’m naughty Mummy -
Is that why he’s not here?
I promise I’ll be good now Mummy!”
(Wipes away a tear)
“I promise I’ll be good now Mummy -
I’ll never, ever cry!
Tell Daddy to come back now Mummy!”
(Tears flood from each eye)
“Tell Daddy to come back now Mummy -
Tell Daddy I will try!
I’ll be the goodest girl now Mummy!”
(Tears flood from each eye)
“I’ll be the goodest girl now Mummy -
Tell Daddy, I’ll be new!
Tell Daddy that I love him! Mummy.”
(Heart has split in two)
“Tell Daddy that I love him! Mummy -
I promise it is true!
Tell Daddy he can love me! Mummy.”
(Heart has split in two)
THE PASSIONATE POET TO HIS VISION
Prophesy in Motion
Come be with me, that it may move
My Spirit to Love's higher-groove,
Where quantum energies abound
Two hearts to beat with one heart's sound.
On rhythms now attune to fate
Love leads the dance in timely gait
To sway entranced - embracing tight,
Two precious doves once lost in flight.
Oh such fine wings! Could they not reach
To re-scale heights that I beseech?
To know the unknown face, known well
That kissed my soul, from whence I fell!
Yet when the Shepherd sat, his rock
Stood strong, as he surveyed his flock;
And so this poet must stand trust
In romance freed from fairydust.
For that just chance Hamlet would steal
Ophelia's breast, if could reveal
All torments of his heart and mind;
Oh this prince would be king and kind!
So if my Juliet, you'd care
I would twice wonder, stop and stare
Upon your balcony on high,
Where Romeo caught vision's eye.
For in that moment's glance revealed
An answer to my secret, sealed;
Long-buried, deep, within safe mind
Where tears and years still lay entwined.
A face was all that moment gave
Fair maiden - yet that face could save
The mortal lament of this man
To carry on where dreams began.
Where Alph - the sacred rivers course
Meanders slowly to the source,
Let freedom, far as freedom can,
Build caverns measureless to man.
And there, from where all life must flow,
We shall plant seeds and watch them grow;
Then mountains formed to stand life's wear
Would crumble if asked to compare.
And trees would break from brittle bark
For peace again would free the lark,
To wooded glens and mountain brook,
Where Unicorn's will stop - to look.
So join with me, that it may move
My Spirit to Love's higher-groove,
Where ceaseless energies abound
Two hearts to beat with one heart's sound.
In union, Mystics would acclaim,
Beauty and Truth are one - the same.
Fair charge my heart would run with you
To rise and fly to Xanadu.
Special dedication for the references and inspirations of 'The Passionate Shepherd to his Love' by Christopher Marlowe and 'Kubla Khan' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
HOW MAY I REMEMBER THEE?
The Passionate Poet to his vision part2
How may I recall your face?
When, for the briefest moments grace
I sailed on silent waves to gaze,
On loves unsolitudal ways.
A whispered thought caught calm, cool breeze -
Swift secret blew me, to my knees;
Cloaked and held in loves embrace
The vision whispered, “Know my face!”
Yet how may I remember thee?
When fates true touch, evades of me
And we pass by, like ships at night;
As memories ebb, you drift from sight.
No more to hoist my hopes to grief
I cast my heart and dreams - my wreath.
Sunk deep as skull and cross~bones fly;
This anchored wreck,
Bon voyage;
Goodbye!
IF YOU DARE TURN OUT THE LIGHT
As I lay down, intent on dreaming,
A figure came, with tempting voice.
As crows took flight, hell bent and scheming,
He gave to me, herein, this choice:
Ian Deal 1998
Let those with fear repose the night,
In slumber safe, turn out the light.
Exalt the gloom, with plays profane;
In wretched hours the dead shall reign.
Come walk with me, who seem so brave,
Come! be my shadow, view your grave.
Join in our plays that grace the morn’,
The line where life, from death, is torn.
Come show you’re brave, as fearful sleep,
Come walk that line, let evil reap.
Behold! Your grave ~ dare lay your head;
Be brave or fear, choose your bed.
Some lives run short, no time to waste,
You choose to fear be gone in haste.
We’ll part this once, take heed, I say;
You shall return! I cheer that day.
The hands of time will strike you down,
And wrap you in my darkest gown!
Safe slumber deep, repose the night,
And if you dare ~ turn out the light!
“All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.”
Poe 1849
IN SEARCH OF EDEN
'Let the young children alone, and stop hindering them from coming to me,
for the kingdom of the heavens belongs to such-like ones.'
Matthew 19:14
I’ll kiss the little children,
Hold their tiny hands;
Guide them in my wisdom,
Through these chosen lands.
Past the unsafe playgrounds,
Alley’s that are dark;
Past abusive parents
And most of all the park.
Past the mounds of garbage,
Pollution of our shores;
Past the realms of power
Planning brave new wars.
Past the falling timber,
Laboratories of pain;
Past the sacks of ivory,
Away from acid rain.
Past the aims of hunters,
Foxes on the run;
Past the empty oceans
Warmed by global sun.
Past all life’s atrocities
I’ll gently guide their hand
And lead them towards Eden,
A green and ‘promised’ land.
“Bring to me the children!”
I heard the good Lord say,
So I will kiss each precious child -
Every single day.
IN SILENT KNOWING
Does our soul dictate the word
That slips onto the page?
Bearing forth a wisdom
Etched by an endless age.
Can that soul, that one and all,
Have measure over mind –
Mastering our moments,
Or are they intertwined?
As indeed I’m wondering
Which one engaged this thought,
Cautiously exploring
This path that I have sought.
For if that soul has lead me
In all I’ve said and done,
The journey of this mind,
Has only just begun.
I close my eyes and listen,
My thoughts come soft and fast
Passing inspirations,
Or inspirations passed?
Time merges all my actions
Enveloping my whole,
As my mind and body
Become as one - my soul
I smile in silent knowing,
Such answers beyond thought;
Opening to wisdom:
Which mind cannot be taught?
LIGHTLY TICKS THE CLOCK
And now it grieves my heart to think what man might make of man!
Dedicated to the caring spirit of William Wordsworth.
We have oiled all cogs, twice turned them - faster.
We have stoked the core and stole its spit.
See how our sweat stains descendants after,
As they too now forge and chew their bit.
The mechanics of our life are now -
We have bound all hands with taut precision,
'Fake watchmakers' who did realign
The balance of time, in each decision;
We have laboured fast, with held design.
Analysis formed. We seek - to know. LIGHTLY TICKS THE CLOCK
Now the map - 'genome' - it's in our making
To rule us out of this century;
And should science slide, miscalculating,
What will be, will be - our family tree.
Will Spirit find us in our time:
Only Nature's route can reveal the road,
Where truth remains, having been prepared.
For all and ever in its blueprint code -
Shall the Maker's soul, for all, be bared.
NIOBE’S LAMENT
(Niobe, in Greek mythology, the daughter of Tantalus (king of Sipylus in Lydia) and the wife of King Amphion of Thebes. She was the prototype of the bereaved mother, weeping for the loss of her children.)
At a 16th century, courtly ball, dined in the merriment of ale and laughter, a sprightly jester lyred the tune of some melodic affair.
In the darkness of the wings sat the haggard bitch and her tale of woe. Her name ~ Niobe!
Ian Deal 1998
You with the gladsome hearts and swaggered way,
Rejoicing in kind;
Play out your bliss and swank like opulent Kings
For recount you will,
As all shall know this day -
Like I -
When death's horrid echo rings.
Once as grande, my pavan ball did curtly sway
To rhythms that blind,
While miscreants unmasked all devilish things;
Did surmount to kill
My innocent babe, that lay
Close by.
Foul curse was the shriek from their strings.
Black nirvana, so foul, from such twisted array,
Taunts my haunted mind.
Re-living my loss with encores from the wings.
So account your thrill
As nihilistic, I pray,
To die;
Like my child who no longer sings!
NO MORE WAR - I PRAY TO GOD
‘War is a realm of necessity, not morality, and that the attempt to apply "justice" to the systematic destruction of human life is a conceptual failure that only serves to justify rather than limit the horror. The only truly moral response is the abstinence from the violence itself.'
Google Gemini Ai (revised 2025)
Oh Lord!
forgive us for our trenchant fear,
That ploughed the fields and scattered sons held dear;
The ingrained manna of our hateful shame
To bury love in graves unmarked of name.
Let future arms be called to bear embrace,
In union, waving flags of one, just race,
Where each surrenders to the greater need,
To plant a softer, kinder-natured seed.
Help us to rise above, like father, like son,
In likewise image once conceived as one;
That we may aim and shoot to long-fought peace,
To grow in light where darkened shadows cease.
Oh Lord! please aid us from this wicked plight;
Guide us to all man's land, no more to fight.
Let cries be heard, for one and all mankind,
In peace that echoes through each distant land;
This prayer of hope that can cast out this day
Hatred's bitter taste -
No more war - I pray!
PEACE IN OUR TIME
A Poets Prayer of Peace
Oh Lord I pray - 'Let there be Peace!'
Each night, each day, sweet love's release -
For one and all, to never cease.
And through this poet's prayer of rhyme,
Oh Lord I pray - 'Peace in OUR time!'
published in 'Peace In Our Time' book:
QUANTUM MOOD SWINGS
Sun rises, up,
I rise, down;
in and out my quantum moods
swing. Yet,
unable to resist the bugler’s heartbeat,
I respond
to the rhythmic cycles – the pulse
of his commands; a higher energy
counteracting my cognitive retreat.
Nothing ever changes –
despite the rainbow in the wardrobe and the pot of gold
at my feet – for as long as my shadow
refuses to recognise my reflection
I am forgotten.
Lost…
in the labyrinth
of his mind.
Trapped…
in a void of one’s dimension
with a key that doesn’t fit.
Locked out looking in
at my split perspective as I,
and we,
die with the albatross
in dreams that he has
yet to show.
Until……..
that moment of release when
the window of my pain shatters –
when my wings stretch out across my view –
until I can be free;
I wait and
await the coming as foretold. Knowing
as I always have done:
When the phoenix returns,
I, like all dreams, shall be
awoken!
RICKETY CHAIR
There she sits ~ in a rickety chair.
Her face all
Blank,
Her eyes just
Stare.
Weather~worn, a withered rose.
Swept back hair, yet no wind blows.
A crooked grin from blackened
Teeth.
A forlorn frame; a graves bequeath?
Hands stretched,
Bent,
Around a translucent ball.
And for what ~
What’s the meaning of it all?
What can it be? ~ hypnotic so.
What draws her
Mind?,
Won’t let her go.
And beyond the
Mist,
What can she see.
What holds her there?
Show it to me!
And so she did,
And now ~
I Stare.
My face
All blank,
From a rickety chair.
SEASONS CHANGE
He left me – then;
My distant lover
No longer creased
In the soft, trails of my bosom.
Left me!
For his own.
Left me,
On mine,
Alone.
Alone with these weary, fireplace feet.
Tumble-down leaves
On winds, blew close;
Breezing him in
Unnoticed.
Easy – over the step.
Cold coals raked
To flicker of warmth,
As dust lay down
To settle.
Not by word, but a whisper,
He unfolded;
Soft embraces
Over time.
Then - he left me!
SIGN OF THE TIMES
Second-hand clothes
Seem tailored to fit me,
A cut, just off line
To fashion and taste
And though others laugh
My dressing pre-history
It suits me just fine
To not want, nor waste.
SILENCE OF THE LAMB
(On my father - my Shepherd, who hung himself at my birth and my mother
who abandoned me in the wilderness like a lost Lamb.)
Ian Deal 1998
Oh my land,
Grazed me once
For absent shepherd;
Nurse me again!
My strength to amend,
To draw the buried sword
Turned to the rib;
The bloody,
Twisting,
Hilt!
Oh my land
Where shepherds grazed in time,
As lambs, until the shaving.
Did mine cut as I?
Feeling the cold-steel, nick,
Deep running.
Or was the blade blunted
By the bearded knot
Of hanging
Guilt!
Oh my land,
Fare us not as lost as the shepherd
For the sake of the still born lambs.
Take this rib
Back to the slaughter,
As I fold arms
Around your failing fortress;
Crumbling,
Dying:
Only to be
Rebuilt.
It is to the land that we all owe the great debt; our life. May we respect her enough to realize.
Ian Deal 1998
AVOIDING THE RUSH
I can’t help thinking,
Before leaping from this perfectly working aeroplane …
Who packed my parachute?
LOVE POSITIVE
Love should know no negative
Just positive, that’s true.
Nothing ever comes between
I, Love and You!
SOMEWHERE
Somewhere, in the halls of wisdom
Lies the largest box.
Filled with all life’s little mysteries
And my missing socks!
LOVE WAS ONCE…
A Shakespearean sonnet.
Once-upon-a-time ago… love was all -
The heartbeat of the universe and more.
Once, just the breath from a nightingale’s call
Could turn the tide on every moonlit shore.
Once our pulses raced to the lover’s lute,
Melodious we’d curtsy, bow and sway.
Once our love was pure, not of ill repute,
But once upon a time is not our day.
Roses now are just ‘apologies of love’ –
Single displays of love split at the seam;
For when our romance died, it caged the dove
And killed the ever-reaching-lovers dream:
Love no longer knows a happy ending:
It waits, unfulfilled and ever pending!
THE AWAKENING
‘From the darkness of the abyss, once more,
shall climb the Spirit of all mankind.’
Ian Deal 1998
The Awakening stirred,
From it's sepulchral tomb; where,
Buried in times blackest pit,
It had forgotten to learn
And learned to forget.
The bleak, depths of ancient sleep could now,
No longer contain it. Consciousness had begun:
Rising
Against resistant chains, shackles snapping from the stone slab,
The mind now free, it sought remembrance.
Heavy, crusted limbs,
Twisted and gnarled as only with mortals,
Jerked limp and unsure.
Forward, from the darkness
They staggered, scraping,
Lumbering uneasy on the rock;
Out into the night’s fresh wind
That greeted with the touch of freedom -
Until finally, it stood.
Somewhere close by, a raven’s breath echoed;
Marked in decree as it circled,
Slick - amongst the dank shadows of the tall pine.
Silken beats, of wings and hearts, in tune;
While wolves, rounding on far off plains,
Howled to the moon in shame.
Their pitiful cries repeating;
Warning -
Men of promise, etched in lore, have stood with less.
Realisation will come!
THE CLOUDS OF NIGHT
The clouds of night pass sleeping,
Resting till the dawn;
The night-time sky lies bleeding -
Ripped apart and torn.
Somewhere in the distance
The poorest city cries,
While in the midst of mayhem
Rich business deals in lies.
Confusion rules all chaos,
The desperate turn to dread;
As money lays foundations -
We pray for daily bread.
The clouds of night are sleeping,
Tomorrow's child is born.
The night-time skies lies bleeding,
Ripped apart and torn!
THE HOODED GOWN
The shadows crept, in dark of night,
The moons light waxed profound;
A charging horse was never heard,
As hooves they tore the ground.
Tongued lightning split the hills behind,
A town lay just ahead;
And so they came, disturbing sleep,
Messengers of the dead.
They rode in haste, to claim all souls,
A silent trail behind;
One glance into their ghastly eyes
And hell is all you'll find.
Drew up the mist to choke the air,
To smother, round the town,
While in the midst beamed glowing-eyes
Beneath a hooded gown.
Bare knuckles tight, grip, boney-white,
Clenched fist drew back the rein;
With nostrils flared on skull-stretched skin
The chariot reared insane.
With lungs aflame and minds the same,
"There's plenty here to slay,"
The devil's pair in thought proclaimed,
"They're all such easy prey!"
The hooded gown reaped through the town,
Soul then soul he'd drain;
The carnage still, a morbid hush,
A ghost town yet again.
The spirits dance, those that are left,
A choir all joined in song.
Yet on they ride, 'Angels of Death,'
The dance will not last long!
THE UNKNOWN
It might have been the sound of the door closing
That pierced me directly in the heart,
But I’d sooner deal with the sadness of you leaving
Than endure the incessant stab
Of unrelenting self-centeredness.
So I’ll pick up the slivers of a shattered dream
And wait in silence for the unknown.
Was it cut of my breath on this shard,
Or the screaming of thoughts hitting walls
That pushed me closer to the jagged edge?
For in the passing of time I cannot recall.
Reflecting back, at the face wanting answers –
Tracing the veins to the source – I wonder:
What is it that she alone sees?
That hopes to find a heart still beating.
Tenderness left bleeding on the edge of a knife,
Knowing that I can’t live with you
That I don’t want to live without you.
I’ll no longer lie in the hollows of yesterday
Searching for something that’s nothing,
Going off at a tangent,
Not quite conscious of what to do next.
No! – I will be free…
I will take this shard – sever myself – end this
Shivering crush that grips me through
My waking, aching hours, as I slip further
Down, deeper; drowning within. But wait!
She appears again in the lighted fragment.
Her memory punctures my eye, again
And again. Flowing, releasing, draining – yet
Still I feel lost
With myself and the reflection before me.
LATE NIGHT TUBE TRAIN
It's cold outside,
The world goes by;
The window reflects
And so do I.
Reflections
Of the things I've done -
Reflections
Of the things to come.
SYDNEY DARLING - BILLIE DEAR.
Also turned into a song on the song page!
Dedicated to my beautiful nieces - Billie and Sydney. May we have the time to spend and the wisdom to make the most of it.
Sydney darling - Billie dear,
Smell the roses, keep them near.
Always know that they’re around
And if you look, they can be found.
Don’t pass them by in daily life,
Too busy burdened down with strife;
Take time to search amongst the gloom,
Then when you find one - watch it bloom.
Oh Sydney darling - Billie dear,
Hear the Angels, soft and clear.
Let choirs of heavenly, sounding voices,
Guide you as you face life’s choices.
Take time to learn the words they sing
And find the answers that they bring;
Then join the Angels, sing along,
So others may just hear the song.
And Sydney darling - Billie dear,
Taste your freedom not its fear.
Explore life’s beauty, free your mind;
Then pass on all the good you find.
Give thanks for that which comes your way
And give to those with less each day;
In thought and deed forever kind
Then one day Eden we shall find.
For all of this I’ve shared with you,
In thought and touch and word - so true;
So all that’s left to whisper near,
Sydney darling - Billie dear:
Is love your sister, wipe her tear!
My Sydney darling - My Billie dear.
WALKING WITH ANGELS
“Is man an ape or an angel? Now I am on the side of angels.”
Benjamin Disraeli
Speech at Oxford 25th Nov 1864
In this life, where strife seems never ending,
Where its constant wrench tears the blood from bone,
Where the pressure squeeze is unrelenting
From my birth, to the death I face alone,
I seek the path of Angels.
And as I search, stalked by the maddened crowd,
I find no refuge from each hostile blow;
No respite from the pain, I scream out loud –
In lands where kinship died a death ago –
“I want to walk with Angels!”
No longer can I walk these ways of man;
Who now *hath understanding of the beast…
For I must seek that path, that higher plan,
That guides me back to Eden in the East
Where I can walk with Angels!
A lonely soul is one that ventures blind,
For each lost sheep must follow not the herd,
But turn to ways that once made man, mankind,
When it was thoughts and deeds that formed this word
By *he, who walked with Angels.
A ‘Davidian’ Poetry Verse Form
(Form creator Wendy Webb)
* Reference to biblical description of the antichrist, also known as devil etc. etc:
‘Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.’
Revelation ch. 13, v. 18
* Reference to Jesus of Nazareth.
TARROCHI
(Consulting the Arcanas)
So what of mine? - say you,
Who proclaims,
Without foreknowledge or gaining from previous account.
Without record of task brought to hand by your court and,
No testament from others, to exhibit,
To know:
Indeed of truths,
In deeds, and, of all manners yet
To be agreed and then to my charge set.
What, say you, of mine?
And what know you -
Of:
The road I wish to wind.
Or from which journeys I have come.
The furlongs I have traveled, to the measure of achievement
Amongst achievement yet unmeasured,
That you, can:
Speak to me without deceit,
Without guarantee, or receipt, to see
That, which lost, I seek?
What, know you, of mine?
And what, show you -
About:
Today, that knows tomorrow.
The future’s knowing guide, that shows the path
Once laid, in kind; so that unaided we may follow.
Can you:
Know all that - which is mine?
See where I am blind.
Just unravel with a twist;
With each turn show what I’ve missed and
Yearn to uncover.
What show you? ………Turn the next card!
TEARS OF AN ANGEL
I sit by my window, time slowly drifts by,
As I watch the tears falling soft from the sky.
From the eyes of an Angel - they flow evermore
And I watch as they fall to the cold, stone floor.
I remember the times I held you so tight,
Oh how I wish I could hold you tonight!
Yet I sit and I stare, up to heavenly lights,
That twinkle and glow on these cold winter nights.
But they’re not as bright, as the stars in your eyes;
So I look to the Angel and I watch as he cries.
I remember the times I held you so tight,
Oh how I wish I could hold you tonight!
But I sit and I listen, as the howling breeze
Calls a lullaby sweet in its dance, through the trees.
It sings of your name - but there is no reply.
So I watch, as another tear falls from each eye.
I remember the times I held you so tight,
Oh how I wish I could hold you tonight!
I believe in Angels; for I know they are real
And the tears they cry, I know how they feel.
As I sit by my window each night we’re apart,
With the Angel I keep, right here - in my heart!