DREAM

Last night I dreamed of Sisyphus

He filled my sleeping head

Last night I dreamed of Sisyphus

And rolled right out of bed.

CLIMBING EVEREST

we're all just a rock in Earth's boundless history

barely a beat upon vast wings of time

so spend it exploring its wonderous mysteries

and find we become that great mountain we climb.

FIRST CUP OF TEA

Some like it so strong that the spoon stands straight up,

Some like it so weak it's transparent.

Each sip that I sup I call King Of The Cup,

And the next one I call Heir-Apparent.

LOVING THE LIBRARIAN

I loved a librarian

She didn't love me back 

She said I was contrarian

And filed me under 'Quack.'

DAWN

"Stick or twist?" says Morning to Night

Who's going to win in this Battle of Light?

Night thinks a while and asks for a card

Light gently smiles at Dawn's own front yard.

Night's hand is played, he's feeling quite slick

But Light wins the Day with its own Five Card Trick.

ONE LAST DROP

It's raining here but no real thought's gone in to it. No effort. In fact I'd be embarrassed to call it rain. It's just going through the motions. Barely a drizzle. I'm surprised Rain's even put its name to it. Soon, the last drop will fall. 

Any minute now.

One last

.

.

.

.

drop

THE CUSP OF CHANGE

Dawn; the trailer to the main event, revealing just enough to keep us all watching. Winter; the scolded child, petulantly hanging from the coat-tails of Morning, not yet old enough to play out on its own. 

We are on the cusp of change as I drink my second cusp of tea. ☕☕

DAD JOKE

I heard Jay-Z tried to run a charity marathon but failed to finish due numerous medical emergencies.

He had 99 problems but the stitch ain't one. 

AMATEUR NIGHT

I rise no further than my back door. Cold won't wait for an answer, barging in as I consider a waking world. The steam from my tea cup briefly dances around the rim before being pulled inside by the draught, like a novelty act being given the thumbs down at Amateur Night.

THE MUSE OF MEMORY

Wednesday bleeds through from Tuesday, which bled through from Monday, which bled through from Sunday.

We paint upon a canvas of memory, swilling our brushes in a watery pot, seeking fresh inspiration as before, summoning the Muse to rise again from its feint, familiar outlines.

WHISPERS FROM THE DARK

Dawn plays shove-ha'penny with light as Monday slides into view. The sound of a distant, rumbling train reaches my back door; but not the sound of distant, grumbling, Monday morning commuters. In this hinterland of a new day, endless unwritten possibility whispers from the dark.

SUNDAY MORNING PATHOS

A man outside the corner shop forensically examines a scratchcard. His expression denotes his loss. Our eyes meet. We share an unspoken 'tut'. We shake our heads. He scrunches up the card, throws it towards the bin - and misses. Sunday morning pathos. Just scratch the surface.

IMAGINARY FRIENDS - A WARNING

I once had an imaginary friend

and he took all my imaginary money.

I was then left to imaginary fend for myself

(which I imagine he found funny)

TIME'S CHANGING ROOM

Periodically, I seem to find myself in Time's Changing Room. There, I notice an old, grey man in the mirror, staring straight back at me, in an accusatory and pleading way, as if he almost knows the answer to why he looks so different from the young man who lives inside my head.

BETWEEN THE TICK AND THE TOCK OF A CLOCK...

When we hear a clock tick it's the sound of Time marking itself present in a register. When we hear a clock tock Time marks itself present once more. This is where we can understand the immediate fragility of Now. But between the tick and the tock? There lies beautiful mystery.

NIGHT'S DEEP PIT

 I wake from a dream

where I was dreaming

of waking from a dream;

I must be still in Night's deep pit,

digging at dreams seams.

DUCKS AND DRAKES

Some random thoughts on memory and recollection.

DUCKS AND DRAKES

skimming flat stones 'cross a lake

straining to take flight; and

where they duck, there

memory aches, on 

ripples of delight.