My Picture: Reflections on marking work and drinking coffee yesterday.
How it is
writing
Coffee and words
My picture. A coffee, some marking of student work…and a short poem I wrote on the back of the receipt.
Sixty papers on mental illness marked,
all the words not said.
Hope loses the way,
stained by tragic scenes
My pen aches
and I wonder…. does anybody care.
How to say goodbye
First picture http://www.bbc.com the rest my pictures. I gave a talk yesterdays on poetry. The book was a gift (not easy to locate in China)…and I drew a doodle of Ginsburg…after my dream 🙂
I dreamed I met Allen Ginsburg last night,
drum, drum, drumming around my apartment.
Says I to Allen “You’re 22 years dead!”
“Life and death are one” says he.
He read me some poems about the sad self,
and how to howl at the moon.
In return, I read some poems about the pain of being alone,
and how love is out there for everyone.
But all dreams end one way of the other,
despite the words.
After rearranging the wind, we said our goodbyes.
And the spring night mourned in empty vase.
Invisible birds
fznor
My Pictures: Last night I was taken to a farm, just outside Xinxiang….a very special place. An organic farm…I talked with the farmer and local people….and found a little solitude in the Chinese countryside.
Sun and East all around,
something started in my soul.
Orange headed Magpies,
perched across the tiled roofs.
Ducks and chickens mingling in sun,
a walking farmer watches.
Mists from chilled sweat peas,
and vines climbing the walls.
Passing briefly between us all, the sun.
Full blown and obliging, pathway in and then out.
Sunlight kisses
My Picture
You left me speechless,
fleeing visions of beauty.
Sun burst….
and
spectral sky blazes.
But dark
shadows and death waited.
And those graceful wings
took flight….
one final time.
Sorrows of the breath
My Picture: An early morning drawing.
Shudder in the dark
a drunken moon serenades me slow.
Craving more than in the last life,
like water dripping through dreams of love.
Her soul in my eyes
tells me nothing’s left to fear.
A doorway to stir in new hope,
that pedals forward inch by inch.
Silent journey
hdrpl
My pictures
back again,
my bones thrown together
with all my strength.
fatigue sapped
and gathering clouds.
the morning silence,
a preening goose
that stretches away
cherry blossom rain.
The stranger
My picture: Another doodle….but a self-portrait of sorts.
Strange how fast night comes,
a solid sound as jaded faces melt.
Then the night shivers out
an early morning drift, like a sigh.
In the wink of an eye,
a world cowed by wind and rain.
A summer’s backward glance,
and broken shells in disarray.
Tokens of regret left all around,
but dreams forget to come.
And sleeping now, life is sweet
all tucked inside dawn’s blue light.
See me as I am
My Picture: I am going through a phase of adding my drawings to my poems…another example.
A friend asked me about pain,
I told him I know something.
“A new diagnosis, an enduring ailment
and then the real pain comes”
He seemed satisfied,
that my heart was dark enough.
Sunday morning, again
A picture of my drawing…sadness is all around…sometimes.
A Wandering Poet 