Tag: Poetry

Nightmare in Béziers

In dream I woke and stood bewitched Before a door of oak and cedar To hear a voice that played upon A song of keys, part lost, part won And tugged and pulled my heart to be there With haunting glimpse of lifetime fixed As though my past had been remixed ➰ Who knocks? – In truth, I had not yet A saving grace … Read More Nightmare in Béziers

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In my Kitchen

It’s looking quite forlorn now The larder shelves are bare There’s a rocket in my kitchen And my kitchen isn’t there -:- He doesn’t want the kitchen That father carved in wood He only wants its ruin And the land on which it stood -:- My children went outside to play And found his cluster bombs All brightly decked with spirals To reckon all … Read More In my Kitchen

Emergence

Heavy metal, thinly sailed, is cast Like toy, and dropped onto the stone. Hedges bend, bow and form New writhing shapes – grotesques – Their twisted tongues malforming names Of foolish men who thought to tame The wild and winds of Cumbria… ——– And yet, from this we do emerge In harsh, unruly tufts of grass And mud that drains off torrents passed. Bleached … Read More Emergence

Days of Sky

When days roll, heavy hearted, by And dusk has turned a darker hue Where breathing’s choked and not so free I rest my back on bark of old ash tree And whisper words into electric blue Discovering solace in the sky ©Stephen Tanham Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.

Old Blue Devil

➰ Within the sky You formed one day I have you said With dipping horn Not gone away ➰ I willed you go Your old one eye Belligerent Inclined to stay Declined my sigh ➰ Am home, it cried Among and in The shallow mind The narrow gaze The snarling din ➰ Resistant to My magic frown This hungry eye Just widens now And … Read More Old Blue Devil

When I close my eyes

Sometimes, when I close my eyes I’m back in California A younger man, who takes off his rollerblades Happily exhausted, after a day on the special, The very special, skater road in Santa Monica Which runs right though the middle of the sand For miles . . . even crossing under the pier And snaking on, like a dream that never ends . . … Read More When I close my eyes

And if you dare it . . .

And if you dare it Build it strong For hands of Gods Wait aeons long To still the single voice of Babel Stan Feb15

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