Judah

Look at me,

Walking along,

With a king size Poop a scoop,

And a Lion on a lead.

 

I think I have him under control,

I've been training him for many years,

Rewarding him with bits of meat,

And tickling his ears.

 

He even does the odd trick for me,

(though he wont perform for strangers),

They think us a little bit insane,

And, if I'm honest, rather dangerous,

 

So I put bunches in his mane,

And pink ribbons on his tail,

To make him more acceptable,

(And to keep me out of jail!)

 

I some times want to introduce him,

To the people that I meet,

But for some unfathomable reason,

They just run off down the street.

 

Sometimes when I have new company,

I keep him in the room next door,

And make up my excuses,

If they hear him roar,

 

I love my Lion very much,

But I have my pride,

What would the new neighbours think,

On seeing I've a lion inside.

 

On the odd occasion,

When we're out and about,

I wonder if the lead I've got him on,

Is really all that stout,

 

But I am pretty sure,

That it's me that's in control,

Of this Lion called Judah,

On our gentle stroll.

Justified

I concede,

We all need,

To feel we are Justified,
It's just, I lied

I'm just the same,
Just as bad,
Just as lame,

But just as glad I came,

Leaping out from,

Just beyond the frame
Just as if,
I made this game,
I just wanted you,
To know my name,

So I'm Justified,

And not to blame.

Tree-hugger

The solution sprang from the soil,
The soul of the soil,
The life of the earth,
At first trees muddy birth,
As sinews snaked from seed,
And belly crawled towards the light,
For more of the warmth that hugged the brown earth,
That stirred it so,
That raised its sap,
To start with.

The light welcomed its emergence with enthusiasm,
Caressed its budding leaves with its soft yellow rays,
The tree had knowledge,
The tree knew the garden,
For the first time,
Before the gardener began,
And it was good.
Before man,

It was abuse of the tree,
The wrongful use,
Of right, ripe fruit,
That gave way,
To the gateway,
For great decay,
The garden gives up its guardians,
As rotten to the core,
The trees sway a farewell,
As they gaze on the heel of Adam,
As it disappears on the horizon.

And the solution came from the soil
The healing was in the tree,
The tree cleansed the very air,
That gave wind to man's lies,
The tree lent its support,
To the wait of the saviour,
Bore him,
For just a little longer,
As Christ clung,
The Tree's embrace lifted him,
Crimson and Glorified,
Like a mid-wife's hand presents the baby,
To the waiting world.

The solution sprung from the soil,
As the sap, sent down, revived it,
The sap of the righteous tree,
Whose oaky sap was shed for me,

That all men shall be saved,
When they embrace the tree.

 

 

One last flourish

A final year like Keats',
Poem-strewn floor,
Like flowers at my feet,
As the wedding arrives,
After 52 weeks,
And lasts but a day in the sun,
And for a few more years the marriage continues to run,
Or limp on,
A blossoming climax in the  summer sun,

After a life time of being buried,
The seeds journey is done,
The cycle complete,
The circle's become,
Full,
And fat,
And rotund,
And now that it's gone
Now I've drained the fund,
The suffering is worth what has become,
A life spent in dirt,
For my moment of Sun,

To stretch out the petals and unfurl,
To silence the voices,
To show the girl,
What she's lost,

For a moment like that,
It's worth all the cost,

One aggressive, defiant last charge at life's gate,
One lightbrigade shout,
One Samson style take,
The pillars out that support their mistake,
To think that they've got you down,

Burn out and shine in the heat,
Or slowly drown.

For one last year like Keats,
Poem-strewn life,
Like flowers at my feet.

Home

A home,
A nest,
A place near you altar,
A lasting rest,

I lay this sleeping-bag-body down,
I lay my home,
Where ever your heart is,

It's were the start was,
It's where the end is,
That's my home.

It has a door,
That's open to strangers.
Closed to the dangers,
A welcome, cosy fortress,
My mattress,
Is in you.

When I sleep.
When I wake.
I am with you.

When I sleep.
If I make,
My bed on the far side of the sea,
When I wake.
You're with me.

My home,
My home,
My home.

seeds

Within the shell of the girl,
The seed of her,
Within its translucent crust,
The small and hardened husk,
The seed thought,
The essence,
The key,
To all she will ever be,

The flowers and thorns,
There combine,
Encoded in genetics,
Hidden from time,

But their advance is unflinchingly assured,
This seed could push up though obscured,
Through all concrete,
High heels on high street,
Though you once danced to another beat.

All that you are now,
Was there then,
All I was then,
Is gone.
An empty shell,
By the feet of the boy,
But you once bought me,
So much Joy,
And pain.
Now you're out of your shell,
I'm vulnerable,
And you are tougher,
Tough as hell.

Meandering prayer

May the path, from which I stray,
Be narrow,
But may my route,
My openness of heart
And my capacity for love,
Be broad,

May my meanderings,
Always take me to preordained places,
Sights I needed to take in,
Travellers who change my outlook,
May my map book be all the sweeter to me,
For all my wonderings,

May my returns to the way,
Be frequent,
And joyful
And may my destination,
Never change,
In all my roaming,
And dreams.
Back to the heart.