What is art could be a bit like asking what is jazz; I think you know it when you see it...
IN THE GARDEN
In the pretty morning of abundance
With the birdies singing
I took a stroll around the flowers
And had a cup of tea on the grass
It was all very nice, so beautiful,
As if and beyond it was heaven,
Such mystery in the light of day:
Bright red roses,
Gossamer webs shimmering,
A bee nosing among the delicate yellow poppies,
The flower tree humming with a thousand bees,
The shed covered in climbing green leaves
And the door stuck open,
And grass giving off that freshly cut smell.
Outside of the plant festooned fence
Of the garden
I heard the shouts of school children,
But here in the secret garden
A feeling of seclusion,
For a few peaceful moments
As a breeze ruffled the swaying bamboo
And in the pond,
Fish swim lazily
As a little fountain sprays
The surface with the sound of water
FROM THE HIDDEN DEPTHS
From the secret hidden depths
Where one wanders in flights of abandon
With whispers of your mystery
Searching for where you are hidden...
To look for you in the passion places of the heart
The blood deeds of the mind
Where the wingless angels of old thoughts
Grey the mists in the hope of time...
Through nights of wine
Where the kissing is a dark dream,
Not a place to thrive...
To not have any dust thoughts for this but these
That near perfect to wander in it all
What can I say?
I want to go home
Past those tides too much their desire to sway
Through all the long corridors of stuff
To have walked down through the long years
With you following so near;
You throw me a bone of love
And like a hungry dog I pounce
And find like an empty shadow once more
It is not really what I want;
It is you that I want.
PASSION’S PURPOSE
Oh that wind to sway the trees asleep
In rustic dreams
Of passion’s purpose
In the sleeping
Beneath the glory
And to find a note on the path,
By a table of abundance,
In some another country to pass through,
To read you…
Let not the life escape in lack then
Where the charming stars
In their splendour
Beseech to rise once more.
But what can I take with me when I go?
To have left so much behind,
So much lost
To have swum in so many oceans
Just to drown in you
Until I am covered by your dust;
So much dust to love you.
And you were there too;
There was love in that place I cannot remember
And the hole I was lost in for so long.
The flights through all those dark places of abandon;
So many flights to some another place,
So many places to find your love
And now I have found the answer
Was closer all the time
LOVE POEM OF THE HEART
If there is a food for kings
It is this
Where the longing mystery
Is a perfect grace inside?
Not to be hidden
But to hear the song of joy
And know your comforting grace;
With this yearning to explore something lovely,
Something that feels good.
To hear the music of the friends,
Gathered good memories of beautiful places
And so many images to remind of things to cherish
A suitcase of angel feathers and dreams
Caught from the winds,
Shooting stars in the gallery forever;
Driftwood, sand-sifting, beaches ‘n’ sunsets
Never to be forgotten.
Boat rides into mystical sunsets,
Things seen that can never be told;
Wondrous sounds that have mesmerised
To be enthralled and lost in timeless wonder
Where the morning’s dew of surrender
Kisses awake the love poem of the heart
Image from me