Days pass by discernibly
Autumn clouds now congregate
Gathering in a weather meeting
In changing times, they conjugate
In the distance, many farewells
Returning softly minimally
As the closing summer festival
Resigning philosophically
Faint reflections blend with twilight,
Echoes of the days gone by,
In the ebb of fading sunlight,
Dreams dissolve without goodbye.
Stuck in a sleeping paragraph
By a headline tightly tucked in
With the sound of power alarming
Too early to soon to begin
Nothing more than a point of view
Stating a case of disparity
Avoiding the line that rises up
In a bubble of hooting hilarity
Silent echoes chase the chorus
Of hidden truths behind the scene
Paired on the edge of meaning
What is real remains unseen
Words like shadows stretch and wander
Framing thoughts we dare not voice
Caught between the lines of reason
Lost amid the noise and choice
The musician sensing notes and scales
Becoming consummate infected
By grains and strains of melodies
In the pulse of beats detected
Looking both ways at vibrations
Feeling atmosphere in bones
Chasing four things then another
Discovering multiples of clones
Strings entwine with whispered riddles
Echoes weaving through the air
Crafting tales from silent moments
Soundscapes vivid, raw, and rare
Hands become a sea of motion
Fingers dance in fluid flight
Capturing the soul’s devotion
Painting music with the light
Based on a recently watched Netflix documentary on Keith Richards and read of Merlin Sheldrake's fabulous book on Entangled Life.
Knowing how I once was here
I leave behind a short despatch
Written in a morning moment
For future eyes to catch
No hidden meanings in my note
To puzzle on or solve
Maybe write an answer in return
Simply something to involve
A whisper caught between the lines
A gentle thread through time’s embrace
A quiet voice that softly shines
To light a stranger’s face
So if you find this simple page
Remember pathways we can share
A fleeting glimpse from age to age
A story told from here to there
The visitor encroaching
On places not allowed
Vague impressions rambling
Hardly following the crowd
Moving in a quiet walk
At a slow deliberate pace
Hoping the custodians
Had no record of that face
Shadows lengthen, footsteps hushed
A secret kept in stride
Each corner holding stories
Where truths and doubts collide
Yet every step unsettles still
A presence stretched too thin
A whispered warning lingers close
Of where he’s never been
The Fork and Knife well-suited
Decided on a date
Initially were overseen
On both sides of the plate
They gleamed to see each other
Neither one outshined
Working well in tandem
Never once were undermined
Through dinners, rich and humble feasts
They danced their silent art
From ranch to royal banquets
Two halves that shared one heart
Though sometimes saucers clinked in haste
Or spoons sought sweeter sound
The Fork and Knife, a steadfast pair
In harmony were found
Their union, simple yet refined
A story told in grace—
Of balance found and functions matched
Two roles that time embraced
Lemon on the windowsill,
shouting CHICKEN! at the sun
Not realising time is limited
Now the Lemon's on the run
Who knows why it did it
Maybe chase a fleeting dream
Or to outpace the ticking clock
Before the daylight’s gleam
Perhaps to find a secret place,
Where citrus scents once stirred,
A realm beyond the windowpane,
Where its sour call was heard.
Bold and bright against the sky
It dared to break the still,
A tiny rebel on the move
The Lemons’ chasing will
Picture by Jon Carling @JonCarling
Wallowing in a thought lagoon
In a pond of pondering
Not much here that interests me
Leftovers lingering
Hoping that a passing dream
With nowhere else to go
Can lend a hand in situations
With something I should know
Deep search for inspirations
Drives desperation for a plot
In cluttered forests, I meander
For something new, I once forgot
Billboards shouted quietly
Graffiti mislaid words
Messages had lost their way
With slogans for the birds
Slow demise of points of view
As tweets and postings faded
A mournful sigh to the rallying cry
Grassroots colours jaded
Nowadays, a statement craze
Inscribed on the skins of limbs
Imminently out of date
Like would be, wanna-be whims
