Ocean
scene
These
are my scattered thoughts
they
are not your musings
they
descend on me while you are returned
to
the sleep from which you came from
half
formed and far from tight
they
bring the same message every night
it
is time to turn it in
you
are not alone when you are no longer
a
living person
I
dream about dissolving in the ocean
my
ashes scattered on the tempered sea
endeavouring
not to dream
of
days out boating
floating
without consciousness to spoil the scene
Unseasonal
snowstorm
its
flakes dance like mayflies
and
flock like the birds
swathes
of Starlings in Autumn
and
cornered like herds
of
cattle in cowfields
camouflaged
by the snow
falling
thick as a paintbrush
on
the cornered window
First
day
Each
day the sun rolls by
and
makes me wonder
what
have I done with my life
to
find an answer
to
the deep unseated urge
that
gnaws and badgers
from
the pulsing of the heart
to
the lungs' depression
and
moves the will to walk
calls
limbs to action
and
pushes itself out into the world
Last
day
As
the moon goes down
stars
cease their twinkle
the
sea remains at shore
the
waves are beaten
and
the long legs of the pier appear
to
bend buckle and straighten
the
gulls have called to arms
and
break a minute's silence
and
the river seems to freeze
mouth
wide and gaping
as
another leaves the world
there
will be no weeping
as
the wind sweeps in from the east
where
the town was sleeping
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