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Autumn in hyde park

Wilting veins

Of leaves

Crumpled brown,

Swirl together.

Kissing briefly,

Touching, as

The swirling wind

Scatters them

Into huddles

Beneath the seats

Or, piles

For toddlers to toss.

While newly naked

Trees stretch,

Leaf freed limbs

In the dancing wind.

Sounds of decay,

The symphony of this

Season, settling into

Autumnal sleep.

Circling to the centre

We say we are “going in circles” when we are busy, busy being ineffective and feeling stressed.  We don’t get things done because we are going in circles and looping back over some problem or issue.  Often we experience this when we are anxious and worried.  Anxiety seems to have a power of its own that keeps us going over the same thing in our mind.  We know we shouldn’t, but...

Welcome to badger’s labyrinth

Welcome to Badger’s Labyrinth, a re-creation of my previous blog Badger’s Musings.  Badger’s Musing was a blog for my poetry which I have bought across to this blog.  In the time since I commenced Badger’s Musings, life as life does, changes.  In these changes, it often feels I am walking a labyrinth.  Walking in the shadows and sometimes the darkness and often uncertain...

Nothingness

There was Always Something To do There was Always Someone To help There was Always Somewhere To go There was Always, the Frenetic Feverishness That mocked Us, with Monotone Monotony Gnawing at Our dis-ease The virus Of modernity Coursing through Us, with restless Agitation and Inferior insecurity II There was Always God All seeing All knowing All intrusive A recurrent Theological infection In the...

The Loner

A lonerStigmatizedBy isolation I long For the lonely Isolation A modern day Leper Cast out To have the Space to hear The symphony of silence A loser With not Enough selfies The lilting Melody of Stillness The scent of Shame scrabbling at His throat The in breathing scent of Serenity Sitting unseen On the Sidelines To sit unseen In the tranquility Of timelessness Life’s perversity Hating what...

To my Grandson

You loped down the stairs, The outline of your Boyhood receding Like mist In sunlight Your body stretching Into manhood Unknowing and With nonchalance You carried the Shadow of Your uncle You are the Man, of the future That strange amalgam Of your father, Grandfathers and Great-grandfathers Fears and insecurities. Their hopes and graces. And lessons crystallised We men, we spend Our lives...

I woke at 2

I woke at 2
Startled by
The silence
That crept
Into consciousness

And the wind
Held its
Breath, awed
Into stillness
By the silence

I lay motionless
Caressed by
Stillness, waiting
Hoping,
Longing

Stars with
Mute disinterest
And cold
Indifference
Waited as I waited

For my dark lover
To enter and consume
Me, as I sunk
Into the
Silence

This Heart

It’s been around This heart Patched, Parts stitched, A tapestry Woven, still Weaving. A tapestry Of colours The grey of grief, The gold of grace, Passion’s purple And love? Its blush? Now I am Realising, I have Crossed the line, The threshold Where I crave The silver Of silence That space Between words That pause, before Your kiss That moment Of suspense Before release Time, stilled Suspended...

Libran

I am a Libran

Do not forget
Behind my smile
You are weighed

Do not mistake
My politeness
For liking, for
You are balanced

On the scales
Few there are
Who balance them
And fewer still

Who tip
The them
To their favour
And fewer still

Who have
The wisdom
To know
My smile

Is my mask
My social grimace
Behind which
I watch and wait

I am a Libran
I weigh
I wait
While watching

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