If Only For An Instant

IF ONLY FOR AN INSTANT

Will I think of you when the wind howls
and waves break white as surrendering hankies,
or will I think of you when the sun breaks clouds

and dances on new leaves, green with childlike
abandon. What is it that brings you into my
thoughts; what senses spark a memory of you.

I thought I saw you yesterday, if only for an instant,
speck glint dust caught in the sunlight, ploughed
rough in the neighbour’s field. You were dressed

like spring, chasing bluebells through tangled
hedgerows, and then you were gone. Again.

You are a fleeting memory, a spark that lingers
and flickers, and survives in the shadows of song.
And I miss you like the day is eternally long.
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Prompted by Recursion #25 “A Drowning”.
Written in Vester Aaby Denmark on 26 April ‘13

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AprPAD Day 6: The Rise and Spill of the Mole

THE RISE AND SPILL OF THE MOLE

There’s a river that no one’s seen,
Mole by name, apropos, blind to light,
dimmed to sight, rolling underground,
glimpsed on rare days when the moon

sways it high to rise and spill,
skimming the fields as tendril filled
tonics, and I stand here knowing
that you live deep below my feet,

silent and steady, and I touch
the soft spring grass above you
hoping that you shine your strength
and eternity on my innocent wonder.
.
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Written for Recursion Prompt Day 6

The Rainswept Blur

Poems are not, as people think, simply emotions (one has emotions early enough)—they are experiences.” —Rainer Maria Rilke

THE RAINSWEPT BLUR

We have worn paths to the most forest-deep
secrets in each other’s lives, tree crowns beyond,
reaching up into our mind’s eye – because we know
where trees go and that they are full of wind,
and I carry myself out into the rainswept blur,
into the drainage ditch, and we hurl our toys.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it’s
always ourselves we find in the sea. And I am
suspended in this ephemeral moment,
holding in my hand a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
.
.

 

The players in this poem, include:
In a Blue Wood by Richard Levine
The Forecast by Michael Dumanis
Crossings by Ravi Shankar
maggie and milly and molly and may by E. E. Cummings
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Written for Recursions Day 3: Panning for Gold (Form: Cento, Found Poetry)
Day 3: Panning for Gold (Form: Cento, Found Poetry)