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A New Year Sestina

At home, we meet the New Year,
With an embrace and with dancing humour.
It wasn’t long before we went to bed,
To where we’d played a little earlier.
As New Year’s celebrations still sounded,
We dreamt of another year together.

We have met years together,
Growing in our lives with each passing year,
In each, fireworks and church bells have sounded.
In all, we’ve tried to live in good humour,
More so than we would in lives earlier
And we end our long days in restful bed.

A haven of rest is bed,
Where in the silence we are together.
If we enraged each other earlier,
We know resolution will form that year,
Because battles can’t outlast the humour
Or the passions that this great love sounded.

And how to them it sounded.
Those times we silently took to our bed,
Could they not know the overarching humour,
That the nights mean that we spend together,
As weeks, months, become a year,
And we head to bed all the earlier.

And as I said earlier,
When magic words and noises have sounded,
And special things resonate with the year,
There’s no better place to lay than your bed,
Where our hands, feet are entwined together,
Enveloped in our own special humour.

We’re lost without this humour,
And brought back to those places earlier,
Where weren’t we ourselves always together,
Until at the end the claxon sounded
And when then retired to a peaceful bed,
To welcome the New Year.

Together we push forward with humour,
After a year, like those lived earlier,
When fireworks sounded, we retire to bed.

Undefendable

This cold solid suit,
Constructed by me,
Surrounding my all,
A wall that’s so thick,
It envelopes me.

Does it define me?
Damaged and rebuilt;
Protective layers
Perfected through time.
Pure sublimity.

Dangers stand afore,
None may damage me,
For this thing I’ve built:
A life’s barrier,
Stands to set me free.

But freedom is fraught,
Liberties hard-won,
Passions rested spent,
Wrent away from me,
For I am defence.

But do these walls defend?
And this armoured suit
Whence I establish,
Does it imbue strength?
Or does it restrain?

Am I limited?
Am I limiting?
Am I truly free?
Or am I bound by that which has been,
And lost in what these eyes have seen?

On Our 13th Wedding Anniversary

I see you;
Veiled.
I see you;
Regaled.

The years bind us,
They define us.

I look forward,
I see the next day,
Just one more day,
A day more to love you.

13 years.
Laced years.

Veiled in your words,
Veiled in a glance,
Veiled in a touch,
Veiled in the story we live.

I believe,
Because I see.

I see you;
Frayed.
I see you;
Revealed.

Knowing Love

Each morning meets me with joy,
As the lass comes bounding to greet me,
Relief in her eyes and her ears,
That the night turned to morn dawning
And her lonely fears are lost,
To be overwhelmed by elation,
For those she loves the most
Have come back,
Are still here,
Still alive,
Rejoice!

Because if you want to know love,
Get a pup
For love unconditional.
But please beware,
Because a dog’s life lives too quick
And we love so long.

Electus

In the four winds that swirl around,
The howling of a winter gale,
I see the me that I have found
And know I am invincible.

Don’t talk to me of happenstance
Or rose-glassed serendipity,
I stand before the great expanse,
Of this unfolding destiny.

Beyond the world I’ve brought to pass,
The joyless spectres of the grim,
Where soulless drones do live en masse,
And cower in the sight of HIM.

No matter what the world will bring,
You’ll know me and you’ll know this voice,
The melodies that I do sing,
Refrained, again; that is my choice.

After Invictus by William Ernest Henley

How to get on without society

Just eat with your fingers, Riley,
The washing up’s not been done;
And don’t make a mess in the living room
Before my friends have come.

Are there loo rolls by the toilet?
The Dorito dips‘ll have to wait
Till we’ve stocked the fridge with Lambrini
And washed another plate.

It’s bloody boiling in the living room,
But the kitchen’s not so hot
And Connor’s on his Playstation,
So come with me and have a shot.

Here’s salt for your tequila,
No! No need to take off your shoes;
And sorry I didn’t ask you sooner,
But what’s your favourite type of booze?

Cheers and all the best then!
Maybe we should have one more?
Oops, I’ll grab the Hoover,
I’ve spilt salt all over the floor.

*written after reading Betjeman’s How to get on in society

This Middle Age

I am middle-aged,
And the rage that once consumed me,
Is a memory,
And I am at a loss.

Like the world beneath me opened void,
But I do not drop.
Destroyed possibility awakes,
Staring within me.

All I realise,
Is the ghost of my adolescence,
Fenced in by fate
And what these hands can this day create.

I am a success,
But I know I wouldn’t impress him,
The yesterday we,
Who dreamt a vast lasting legacy,

Who like children dreamed
Of fantastic lives lived and worlds won.
Whilst I with a shrug,
Dismiss what I bring into being.

With distant memories,
A wave of grief powered by regret,
I forget to be,
And I am lonely reminiscence.

Darkened Dreams

There is a darkness
I saw in a dream
In a future dream
In a whisp of me
That left me alone
Freely engulfing me

And in that dream
No longer did that great luminary
Travail in the blue
For the sun was darkened

Men grubbed for what they could
And then turned to each other
First with charity and benevolence
But later with blackened hearts
As their souls grew cold

And as I stirred
Children clawed at my ascending form
And I looked down upon humanity
And mortality stared back
With hollowed eyes, black with fear

Their desperation engrained
Their tears went lost before the drop
And tainted the air
Poisoning their agonised last breath

I could not help them
As I groped in the nothing
My hands like obsidian
But pulsing with blackened blood

There is a darkness
I saw in a dream
In a passing dream
There was a gasp
That left me alone
And I was engulfed

The Wondrous Tree (for a Christmas Card 2013)

Whatever you think about Chrisrtmas,
Throw away any naysay,
Place your materialism into the ground,
Cast aside the inaction that precedes the day.
Although people party late,
We’ll ignore the disorder and laugh at the puerile.

And atop the tree sits an angel,
Or a star: a symbol.
And at its feet, in a child’s eyes, it’s remarkable.
The child fascinated in excited wonderment,
Never to remember the rapture of it:
That first Christmas Tree.

But with realization comes knowledge in what follows.
Following the appearance of this woody monument,
That smells not of the forest in which it stood,
But of Christmas and of promise.

A temporary tower conjuring images,
Under which children rip at presents,
And where men and women are taken back,
Where momentarily none hide their delight,
Until the last festive tree enters memory.

And that angel or star: a symbol,
Speaks to some of a return. To me a rerun,
Of a joyous, wondrous continuity,
Witnessed under the Christmas Tree.

It goes on

And those friends go away,
The ones you had yesterday,
The ones with whom you had history.
As your life evolves and resolves.

Looking through your parents’ eyes,
Hearing children cry.
Wondering when you said goodbye
To your childhood,
It lasted longer than you thought.

And those friends go away,
The ones you had yesterday,
The ones with whom you share history,
The ones with whom you walk everyday.

And so I’ll speak boldly of destiny,
And of friendships and family.
Until next we meet dear friends.