Nativity

We are weak from travelling 

Around the world

We have walked many miles 

After kissing mother goodbye 

We need to both lie down

And keep walking

Maybe we will stop at the inn

Like the nativity 

Alice whispers 

Although I hope the room 

Is warmer 

I hold her hand tightly 

To prevent me

From stalling

And falling 

You fill me up

I say

And she leans in closer

Another year draws to its end

We take a deep breath

Hope for happier ones

With stories

And words

And adventures

She lets go of my grip

And claps her hands in glee

Just like the nativity

She is a child 

Old enough to love. 

God's Poems

Dear old year

I whisper under my breath 

You have come and gone 

Like a gaze into the fire 

Notes scribbled on a page 

Breaths taken in a frozen bowl 

Alice is the host of this party 

Her dainty little mouth

Chewing sugar and candy 

I wonder what next year will bring

She sings 

I can not bear to think of another year

It makes my stomach taut 

Perhaps it is better to dream 

To be wrapped up in clouds

And winter sunshine 

Keeping the world outside

Away

We are good at that

All snug and warm together

The kettle bubbles

Alice skips from lounge to kitchen

All excited and young

I watch her 

And can't help feeling

We are all God's poems.

Big Clock

Alice takes the ancient brass key

And winds up the big clock

I watch her

See her smile

It is reflected in the glass face 

Perhaps we feel safe

Living in the borders 

Forgetting what comes

And goes

No use crying over spilt milk 

I turn the page on the calendar 

Wonder what we saw on all those days

Alice turns the key so tight

We gain more time

I sigh

The clock makes a low tick tock 

Like a heart beat

It lulls us off to sleep 

We sleep so deep

There is no place for dreams 

But we must have them

Of course

I take her hand in mine

There is a sore spot from where she held 

The key

I kiss it gently 

Wanting to take away the pain. 

Private Property

You lay the table

Hatter pours the tea

The tea pot is chipped and broken 

When it is poured the tea sprinkles 

Still it is a magical drink 

You look up and down the table

Weighing up the stories 

Remembering the music

And the jokes 

Your face is violet 

And sage

You wipe your lips 

With a silver towel 

It is like swimming

All bubbly and warm

It is a special time

A ritual 

One that is our private property

I do not know what I would 

Do without you

You nod and smile

Knowing you are needed

A tear falls gently off my cheek

Perhaps I am needed too.

Thanksgiving for Two

She unrolls the bundled tablecloth

Sweeps it flat with her dainty hands

We are having thanksgiving for two

It numbs the pain

Which is ever present

Decades of bad luck

Skin wrinkled and sore

Scars and broken limbs

I put the potatoes in the oven 

Alice lays the plates

It will be just like a feast

In a storybook

She squeals with delight 

I bluff with myself

Should I take the wine or not

There is nothing better than tea

She says

As if she can read my mind 

I would like to remember today

So maybe I will stay sober

It just helps ease the suffering

Or maybe it makes it worse 

It is hard to tell these days

It is like feeling perpetually sick 

The potatoes fill the room

With an earthy scent

Our tummies grumble 

We sit and wait expectantly for

Our thanksgiving for two. 

I Didn't Think I Could Do It

Break a leg

She chuckles

I didn't think I could do it

But skip trip

Trippety-trip I fell down the stairs

And snap 

Now here I am sat

In the basement 

Looking at the filament light 

It is not ferociously bright

But I can still see her

I wonder how long it will be

Until we are found

Forever 

She whispers 

There are spent bullets

Beneath the doorway

They are no longer burning 

Or bright 

Perhaps we could crawl 

Under the ground

Find the electric current 

And soar

I do not remember what we took

Before the fall

But I know it does not hurt 

There are many things 

I didn't think I could do

Perhaps I should remember 

What I can

Not what I can't 

A dime a dozen 

An arm and a leg

We can do it all. 

Moving to Santa Fe

I think we should move to Santa Fe

I say

To be near our beautiful artist friend

We will place our bed on a mesa

Wrap up in blankets 

Against the desert nights

Say farewell to father

And his books and lessons 

We will never forget 

How he strangled us 

When we were seven

So far away

But near

A shadow

And a heart beat 

Can we make mud pies

She asks

Only if there is rain

I say

Not really knowing what the desert is like

We did not learn about other countries

In school

I liked physics

Seeing how things worked 

The colour of wires

The sparks of electricity 

If only we could go back

Learn it all again

But for now

We move froward

On to meet our artist friend.

Let There Be

Shall we take tea

Asks Alice

I would like sweet corn

And powder puff cakes

Our little ceremony

A time to heal old wounds

Our voices will be full

Our laughter will sweep 

Over the mountains 

We will sing a song

Rubbing our full tummies 

Summer will be nothing more 

Than a mirage 

Pollen will dance on the breeze

But we will be safe in our dwelling 

She claps her hands in glee 

How I do love her

The comfort of the tea pot

The tiny china cups

The piping hot tea

Brewed to perfection

After all these years

And Hatter and Dormouse 

Of course

Let there be endless summers

And endless tea parties

She declares

And we sip and chew with delight. 

Climate Change

I guess this is love

In a time of climate change

We can taste it on our tongues

Rich and crude

The essence of survival 

We are standing by the sea

The waves crash against the rocks

Like heat

A kettle boiling 

Just in time for tea 

We will grow flowers

From seeds 

Plant them in thick compost

Let them ripen 

Create a rare habitat 

A place where we can play

And dream 

The world is changing 

Sometimes it feels 

That we can not keep up

Better to lie still

Watch the shadows play out

On the ceiling

The sun fading

The moon cropping up

I wonder how long we can survive

It all seems so tenuous 

This love

In a climate change. 

Childhood Stories

I really loved those little books

Alice

Loved them so much I chewed 

Their cardboard covers

As if by eating them

The sugary words

Would fall inside me

And fill me up

Do you remember what was in them

She asks

There was a rabbit

I say

You mean Rabbit

No little Cricket

There are more than one rabbit

This one was called Peter

How strange

She says

What are the other names

I believe there is a Velveteen Rabbit 

But we never had one of those

I wonder if those chewed little books

Are still out there

Waiting for another child

To fulfil 

I am sure they are

She strokes my face

Stories never leave us

They are the building blocks

Of different stories

Memories and love

All wrapped up

I would do anything to hold those little books 

Again

Well it is a good job you stole them then

We sit back and giggle 

The best ending to any story. 

Unrelated

Perhaps we have very little 

In common 

She tweets

In an unrelated way

I look her in the eye

Over the flames 

Of the campfire

Nothing could be further 

From my mind

Little Cricket

We always find a way

To see the world together 

Different versions of reality

A place with the same taste 

In the air

I look at the brand on my arm

She studies it too

Are there any more stories

She asks

I am getting peckish 

Always

I say

The world is full of stories 

And tales

You wrote one yourself

Didn't you know

I was just a character

She says

No Alice

You are much more than that

You are a guiding light

A beginning

And an end

But always alive

She curls her toes

As if she is enjoying the words 

In an unrelated way we are together

I hope that will last for a very long time

So do I she whispers

As the embers of the flames

Die down

And fade

We hold each other tight.

Forward

We are not very good at

Moving forward

I say

We are sitting in the half light

She giggles

We are not very good at

Moving backwards either

Perhaps we are stuck 

In this in-between place

All the signs and symbols

Swirling around our head

But not as clear

As cake

Or poison 

She says

In her usual

Rational 

Way 

Perhaps you do not want to move

If you did it would be easy

Just follow Rabbit

Solve the puzzles

And be back at the tree

For supper

I wish I could think as clearly as you

Little Cricket

It is like my feet are made of clay

Then I will get a hammer and break them

She always has an answer

Perhaps you are moving forward 

But do not see

She says

Every day we wake up

Is a step forward 

She takes my hand

Just be sure to wake up

Then breathe

And the whole world

Will move forward with you. 

Song Sparrow

The song sparrow

Sits in our hand

We can feel its feathers

And its fragile bones

We brush our fingers

Over its face

Wishing it to sing 

We like the sound of her song 

It is something we held 

In times before 

We have spent decades 

Bent over on the porch 

Swinging on the chair

Listening to the bugs

The song of endless summer 

The air is cool 

The sky clear

We lift our hand up

But the song sparrow 

Does not fly away

We can share in her beauty

For a moment longer

I look at Alice's face 

She smiles quietly

And it brushes off on me

All is gentle

Sweet and true

We love the song sparrow

And think it loves us too. 

Symbol

She holds the silver chain

In her tiny hands

We do not believe in God

Or his son

But we feel safe with this talisman 

Held within us

The safe verticals

The tough horizontal 

We have held the shape so long

The silver feels soft

A little warmer 

Than our body temperature 

Even if we do not believe

We know this cross 

Has kept us safe

When we do not hold it

We hang it from the light

Let its shape shine

Flourescent 

Powerful

Able to hold us

When we are ready for the next adventure

I will place the cross around her neck

She will hold my hand

And so a perfect circle 

The world is full of signs 

And symbols

The ones we hold most 

Can never be stolen

They are inside us

Untouchable

Ours.

Sister Death

Sister Death taps us on the shoulder

She does not like that 

We dance 

Sing praises 

To Saint Francis 

How he cares for animals

And babies 

She giggles 

We have just finished dinner

And the door is open 

It is a mystery how we feed ourselves

All our heart wants

Is cake and powder 

Perhaps we are partners now

Inseparable 

Huddled in the ashes of 

Our hut 

It is a shame there are no others

But I humbly accept

Her love 

Our eyes are tired

Our limbs aching

We seem to be always waiting

I prefer an adventure

She says

There are no rabbit holes

Here

I reply

Just wells with no bottom

And no water

Like an empty font

Remember when we used 

To go to the quiet place 

Everything is closed now

I remember 

She whispers

She is more than me

More than Saint Francis 

And Sister Death

She is real

Precious

And holy.

Octobers

October comes in all her glory

The gentle brush of autumn 

Sweeping the window frame

The trees quietly shedding

Skeleton leaves

Spindle branches

Rough bark

Trunks 

Perfect weather for sleeping

She says

With a yawn 

The bed is well worn

The pillows shaped

To our heads

Strands of hair 

The smell of shampoo 

And dreams 

We keep the windows open

The air smells fresh 

Keeps us clean 

And naive 

We are scared the building will 

Fall down

Just like the leaves 

We huddle up together

Shut our eyes

To keep the fear at bay

When did summer end 

I do not know little Cricket

But I am so glad we live in a world

Where there are Octobers. 

Tonsure

Perhaps we should shave our heads

And say a prayer

She giggles

I see my father in my face

It is what I have become

We buy flowers

Make a display

Lush as a beard

All colours and scents 

Make and mends 

She bows her head

I am not sure I like men

She says

Building blocks 

Matchboxes and books

We are not bitter

But we do not like to lose our words

It is all we have 

The story at our feet

The prayer

The silently mumbled words

We pay due reverence 

To the monks

Comb our hair out

Let the tangles fall in the sink 

We are so very tired

That is why we lie still

Hand in hand

Prayer in prayer. 

 

Realism

Am I real

She asks

Of course little Cricket 

I say

Reaching for her hand

It is cool and soft

Like buttercups

In the early morning dew

How do you know

Your hair

Your face

Your dress

Your shoes

They all make you Alice 

But I do not understand who made me

She whispers

Perhaps you made yourself

You survived the story at least

Much more than I could do

And I am old and weathered 

She bites her bottom lip

It turns pink 

Perhaps reality isn't for us

She muses

Our heads are full of words

We can barely sit still 

To hear the world 

And all its magic

One day 

I think

Reality will come crushing down

Make its mark and separate us 

I do not want that day to come

I am happy with her hand in mine

All that she is

All that I am 

Intertwined 

And breathing. 

Urn

Her pink fingertips

Touch the frayed edges

Of her dress

We would look pretty

In a silver urn 

She sings

The branches of the trees

Sway 

Happy like an afterglow

It is too early to be gone 

I whisper 

We must trust the earth 

Keep our feet firmly 

On the ground 

Our skin is doused in sunshine 

Better than acid

She seethes 

That makes me feel sad

There is no going back

From the damage 

I wonder when we will rest

If our final place

Will shine and glow

Like her shoes 

Perhaps it is best not to think

She says

Reaching for my hand

Tomorrow we will stitch the edges 

Start again

Not end.

Dolly

We make dollies 

Out of wheat sheaves 

And rose petals 

Happy and strange words

Are my home

I think

She giggles

I see you

Her fingers flap like

Butterfly wings

Far quicker than mine could ever go

We like how the dollies 

Smell and feel

Almost as if they are alive

Perhaps we should weave in 

Some hearts 

She says

I am wrapped up in the work

But I nod

She sings to herself 

Reason is music to 

A jaded heart

Her song is sweet and pure

The adventure did not

Make her jaded 

It just made her grow 

In more than one way

She chimes

Perhaps if we gave the dollies

Potions and red shoes

They would grow too

We look at each other

And smile

Hands red and sore

But content

Happy with our work. 

Pocketknife

We take the stolen pocketknife

From our pocket

The blade is dull

But sharp enough to carve

A sonnet on our skin 

It is like brushing sand

Smooth

Soothing 

Something that works

We have the taste of metal

In our mouth 

Time is frozen and empty

We recall the grove

Which is green and blooming 

Birds on the wing 

A veiled kind of blossoming 

We are not afraid of pain

But we are tired

Of suffering 

Sleep is the only release

Dreams and nothingness 

Fourteen lines

And rhyming couplets 

Something we will never achieve 

We wipe the blade

Put it back in our pocket

There is always a way out

That gives us comfort

We like the mother of pearl handle 

The weight and slide of the blade

Today we did something important

Tonight we will dream. 

Fairground

Can we go to the fairground

She asks

Of course little Cricket

She claps her hands in glee

We can eat candy floss

Fly down the helter-skelter

And you can drive us in a dodgem car

It will be fun

She goes to grab her coat

Best wait until night time comes

I say

Then we can see the lights

She looks disappointed

As if she is missing something

The big wheel will be alight

You can see it shine 

From miles away

We sit and wait

I remember the smells

From when I was small

Like her

The hot dogs and burning sugar 

It made things feel exciting

Just for a moment

Like the world could be more 

Than darkness and worries

I stand up

The light is dimpsy 

Are you ready

She jumps up

Of course

We are going to the fairground 

And all will be well.

Sonnet

Shall we write a sonnet

She asks

No little Cricket

It is too much like mathematics

And I do not have a head for numbers

Not like him

The light is leaking in through the window

We daydream

Words

Pictures

The art of Wonderland 

The falling rain 

Splits and breaks our thoughts

We are far away

Today 

There have been many delays

And detours 

To navigate

We hope that once we are passed

The wreckage

Our thoughts 

Will become clearer 

It is all part of the journey

The adventure

She claps her hands in glee

Picks up a pencil

And starts to write our sonnet

It will be magical she declares.

Journal

Do you remember when 

We used to write our story

My story

I whisper

The words came

Before you came to help me

She settles in beside me

I remember the pages 

Beautiful white sheets

Filled up with black letters

And skin

People were important then too

They made the pages 

Hard to imagine that 

Every day I had something to write

You were dying 

She ventures

That makes the pen flow

The pages were important 

I remember the weight and smell

Of each journal 

Heavy and putrid

Full and satisfying 

A record

Evidence

What happened to them 

She asks

She knows the answer

But I tell her

I threw them all away

Burnt a few pages too

That was magical 

An adventure that led

To different words

Our story 

She says

And I hold her

In agreement

This is our journal now. 

Vote

We raised our hand

And cast the first vote

The choice felt blissful

Something held close

To our chest

We accounted for 

Margins of error

Of which there were plenty 

Counted our options

Made sense of the matter

Stood back and took a wider view

Of course there were 

Sides to play

We were not alone in voting

We were part of the lever

The change

The force

The power

When it came to the final vote 

The decision hardly mattered

We were there

We played our part

Whispers and giggles

Drifting on the wind

Lifting up the ticker tape

Letting it fall in our hair like confetti

A celebration 

And a stand. 

Body

We must take care of our body

It is the only place 

We have to live in

She whispers

I run my fingers 

Over the scars

Over the damage and destruction

The years of pain 

And chaos

It really is a body

Beyond recognition

Past its purpose

Slowly battling between

Life and death

She holds my hand

Her skin is soft 

And creamy

We lie still

Thinking

Not thinking

Just being who we are

Who we will always be

Because we did not take care of our body

We wasted its youth

Damaged its future

But it made us who we are

Every cut and burn

And flurry of powder

Sculpted us into being

Perhaps that is just fine

She whispers

We snuggle up together

And close our tired eyes.

Reckless Sonnet

I am not sure I like sonnets 

She says

But I like to make a little sound

Or song

We have been left behind 

I think

The dusk creeps upon us

We wrap ourselves in towels 

And blankets 

Silently cry

Whirl in circles

Our own dance 

We think of the times

When the sand seeped through our toes

We cannot unlike these times 

Perhaps we argued

Perhaps we sang 

Always we found ourselves

A little strange

Both sapling

And grown tree 

When we are close to the wire

She sucks her thumb

And if she does

I do too

This is our reckless sonnet

Forever it will sing 

And sway. 

Sun

The last time we saw the sun

We smiled

It made our cheeks warm

And our eyes glow

We dipped our toes

In cool water

Sang a song

Danced a little dance

It was a good day

She giggles

Now we lie still

Let the light from the window

Cover our bed

Watch the clouds passing

And the trees swaying

This is where I remember you

In the sky

Flying

Swooping 

Soaring

I cannot remember if 

You came to me

Or I came to you

All that matters is that

We are together

Always she says

Reaching for my hand

Even when the sun stops shining

And winter comes again

I will be with you for all time

She says

The first 

The last

And the in-between

We smile

Yellow circles in our eyes. 

Goodwill

We find ourselves 

In the basement of the goodwill store

It is musty 

Tiny flashes of dust bounce off 

The carpet 

Like rust

It catches us 

In the back of our throats

Makes us cough 

And splutter

The curtains are thin

Alice draws them open 

It reveals a brick wall

Thick and sturdy

We hate not seeing light 

Perhaps we will 

Pick through the garbage forever 

It glitters and shines

Old treasures

Waiting to be found 

Stories waiting to be retold

What was given

What was lost

What was taken after

Books

Clothes

Toys

An old bicycle 

Once they were prized

Now they are fading

Perhaps by touching them

We will make them real again 

So many beautiful things

In the basement of the goodwill store. 

Feathers and Shells

We hold the feather in our hand

It is frail

Like baby bones

We lift it up to the light

The wind kisses our fingers

We see the skeleton lines

It is magical

How they hold the silken skin

We imagine the bird in flight

Struggling 

Then soaring 

Enjoying the currents

Discarding a gift

Just for us

Alice breathes quickly

We have been collecting 

Feathers

Shells 

And leaves

For Dormouse

We will build him the perfect nest

She squeals

We walk back home

Along the grassy path

The patches of green 

Stick to the bottom

Of our shoes

We have a box

For Dormouse's nest

We carefully place the feather inside

It looks majestic

Full of wonder

But we need something soft as well

Maybe tomorrow we will find

Wool on the fence

Or fur from a passing cat

Maybe tomorrow we will 

Have tea and cakes too 

For the tea party 

I would like that very much

She says

We close the box

Happy with our treasures.

River Village

I bend over to touch her face

It feels as soft as paper

As simple as water

As complex as a nest

All twirls and swirls

And broken branches 

We are enjoying our time at 

The river village

Time flows

Like a gentle current

No more needles

Or hammers

We have taken our medicine

And feel more alive 

It is humbling

To stand by the water

It sings a tune

We understand

Tiny drops

And big splashes

We let the mist cool

Our face

For this one moment

We are ok

No need to think about tomorrow

Or the next day

Or the next

Time stands still at

The river village

We feel at home there

Peaceful and quiet

Soft as rolling water

Ready to sleep

And dream. 

War Is Over

Perhaps it is sad

That we do not know

The war is over

It is because you are

Always fighting

She whispers

You can stop if you want to

I think

What would I be 

If I did not fight

Empty

Lost

Alone

I must always keep you with me

I say

Reaching out for her hand

Maybe war is like solving puzzles

Working out how to win

Finding your way above ground

Or maybe it is like a downpour 

Too fast and heavy to control 

Perhaps it is both 

It has been a long time

Since we have seen 

The night sky

The shining stars

And pale moon

The powder keeps us under

Quiet

Silent

Mute

We sit still in the half light

Waiting for sleep

The moment feels like a ceasefire 

A tiny break from our invisible war. 

Olive

The man has an olive-coloured face

He flies birds inside

We can see them reflected 

In the mirror 

Our hearts beat quicker

With every flap of their wings 

The birds line up

Like a list

A line of letters in a row

We do not want to disturb

This history

It unfolds before us

Like a fresh white page 

A plan of a city

All black lines and angles

Squares and circles

A place we will never go to 

A place which confuses us

And enchants us 

Where are we now

I think 

There is no answer

Where we are now

Is where we have always been

Where we will always stay

As permanent as the lines

On the man 

With the olive-coloured face.

Renewal

We wipe the dust 

Off of our shoes

Like a change

Or maybe even a renewal

She squeals snd claps her hands

Perhaps it is time to end this pattern

To find a smoother course

One without so much pain

And loss

She looks into my eyes

Are you enjoying your life

Someone says

I do not have an answer

I enjoyed the magical times

When everything felt possible

And I was set free from my rules

That really was alive 

Now feels like an endless grey dream

Asides from the times 

When we sleep and float away

They are good moments

Ones we claim as truly ours

Perhaps we renew ourselves every day

She whispers

Like breaking the dream

Emerging like a butterfly from a chrysalis 

I dare not say perhaps

It feels far too distant to be true

We sweep up the dust

Backs aching 

Fingers sore

The light fades

It was a good day

She murmurs

Eyes drowsy and heavy

Yes

I think

Today was good enough.

Evanescent

Our love is not fleeting

Or frail 

It dances wildly

Like motes on a summer breeze

I am never lonely 

When I am with her

She does not leave me

Feeling empty 

The candle flame drifts

In our eyes

Makes them shine deep blue

Sometimes things feel helpless

And endless

It chokes us like a 

Cotton dress buttoned up

Too tightly 

It does not seem to matter

Anymore

What we are seeking

It is more like a ride

She whispers

A wonderful trail

Of bicycle wheels

Turning smoothly 

In the night

Leaving patterns in the earth

Making our bodies move

And sway

A gentle rhythm 

And a quiet prayer

A permanence which brings

Comfort and stability

Of that I am glad. 

Things To Come

We were not surprised 

When we fell down the hole

It was as easy as tripping off a kerb

Pleasant

Like the middle of a dream

When you sink into the bed

Wrapped up and closeted 

Nobody saw us disappear 

Come to think of it

No one saw us return 

It was quite the adventure 

In between 

She giggles

Talking to herself

And me

Which is better

She asks

Knowing what will come

Or being kept in the dark

Perhaps you can't have one 

Without the other 

I reply

It is like patterns

Following the lines

To the edge of the page

Sizing up what things will come

And discovering 

Those which are surprises

She claps her hands in glee

I think we are ready 

For another adventure

We smile at each other 

And skip and trip

Forever onwards. 

Perennial

You are my little perennial

I say to her

A propos of nothing

The perfume follows us

Around the room 

It is sweet and fragrant

A flower and a bloom

A long forgotten word

The root of which

Lies at the bottom of our brain 

It is a word we trust

An act of kindness

One given 

In an open field

A place where we can find peace 

Where we are free

And do not need to act 

The thoughts are persistent

The sky is heavy

Our eyelids seep in the heat

Our hair flows in the wind

Like petals swaying on a root

The clouds hang low

Not quite white on blue

A muted colour

Like the tiny steps we make

I am glad she is always with me

Always the same

My little lode stone 

My constant

My love

My friend. 

Way Station

When can we stop for a break 

She asks

When we are neither

Here or there

I reply

What a curious riddle

Perhaps it means

In the middle

Our feet are tired and dusty

Our heads throb

In the heat

We have been walking 

And pacing

For far too long

Round and round in circles

She sings

In a way it is soothing

Like following a pattern

Or singing the chorus

Of a song

I like singing 

She whispers

Taps the toes

Of her shiny shoes together

Her hand reaches for mine

And I stroke her tiny fingers

Let's say this is our way station

Sit down and rest

That sounds like a very fine plan indeed

We both take a deep breath

And lean into the cool walls. 

Violin

Alice rubs her belly

And picks up the violin

The strings are broken

And rest on the bridge 

The sound is brittle 

Like husks of corn 

Cut off at the tip

It is like cats singing

But I do not protest

I like to see her play 

I would not like to be the person

Who ruins her fun

Her tiny fingers

Caress the frets 

She looks content

Peaceful and happy

I like keeping our world

This way

It feels complete

Not a place to die

But a place to live

She puts down the violin

We will eat cake

And drink sweet tea

Today we made music

Tomorrow we will sing.

Small Poems

The rain falls on 

Alice’s face

She giggles

The rain falls on

My face

I cry

We are walking

We feel both

Heavy and light

High and low

Perhaps tomorrow

We will make cakes

She will lick 

The sugar off

Her fingers

I will giggle

The day after tomorrow

Will come

We will feel glad

Each day offers up

One small poem

We collect them up

Like stars

Turn them into magic 

Just like us

We giggle. 

Heavenly Bones

Do all dogs go to heaven

She asks

We are just awake 

Coming to naturally 

I take a sip of water

Of course they do

I reply

They are heavenly bones 

All brave creatures

Should be allowed to travel 

To the next world 

Without question 

She says

Wiping the milk from her lips 

I like how limitless

And freely we can talk 

It is like hollering into the night time sky

Trotting on cloud ponies

Riding the stars 

Everything making sense 

And feeling good

We would hate not to think

To ask each other questions 

We think of the creatures that have 

Passed us by

Remember their smell and weight 

Thank heavens Dormouse

Will be here forever

I wonder where animals in Wonderland go

Perhaps they will always be there

Ready for the next person 

Who needs them. 

Arrogance

Am I arrogant

She asks

No little Cricket

You are confident

There's a difference

She gazes into the distance 

For just one moment

Then speaks

So when you are confident 

You believe in yourself

When you are arrogant

You believe you are better than 

Everyone else

Just so

We both exhale 

Perhaps at times it pays to believe 

You are better

Believing in yourself only gets you so far

But makes you kinder

She whispers

We lie down and rub our tummies

Full of sugar and milk

The day is drawing to a close

We do not need to speak

To know if it was a good

Or a bad day

It just was

As they all just are

Time spiralling

Thoughts wandering

Bodies aching and sore.

Bathing Suit

We are wearing our new

Bathing suits

Floating in the water

Like lotus flowers

Open and made full 

We turn in little laps

Our wrists limp

Making tiny flaps

Even smaller ripples 

My memory is fading

Like looking at the view

Through a window 

When we climb out of the water

Our thoughts will fill up again

It will be cold

And our skin will sting

But we cannot swim forever

The air is dimming 

The sky turning dark

We take a deep breath

One more slice of water 

Then gingerly we climb out

Our new bathing suits

Shining in the moonlight.

Blanket

We lie underneath our blanket

Pale as lilies

Soft as moss

In a dream state

One step beyond sleep

In a blissful blank canvas

Ready to be painted

Drawn and savoured

We are lost

But not bored

Lying still is our favourite thing

Feeling our heads fall into the pillow 

Our hands limp 

Our feet steady

Not like when we walk

When we walk we are heavy

And sore

Each step a grinding of bones

Painful 

Unhappy 

Weighted 

Our blanket keeps us safe

Like an embrace 

A steady face

Not a smile

But an acknowledgement

Of who and what we are

Blank

And full of possibility, 

The Box

The ashes lie in the box

We put in a wet finger

Write out the words

I am sorry

I am lost 

It is a heavy message

Which flowers and blooms

A heavy paper trail

A sorry story 

We have the pang to regret 

But it is a story which will 

Follow us forever 

One we must share

But never forget 

She held my hand

I remember 

It is all a paper trail

Things we moved

Things we could forget

We are glad we have the ashes

And the box

It is a reminder

Of all things solid

And all things lost 

We will play for it forever

Pathway

Shall we choose the right way

Or the easy way

I ask

She chews her sugar lump

Each path leads to the same destination

She says proudly

Swinging her legs under the table

Happy with her answer

Fitting for Dormouse or Hatter

Everything is a riddle in this world

If we choose the right doors 

And poisons 

We will have fun

Fun is not thinking of the ending

It is about the journey 

The adventure 

She giggles

Sometimes it feels as if we will 

Be playing this game forever 

That makes me feel old and tired

Alice is so full of energy

She sparkles 

No adventure is too small

No journey pointless

I will follow and watch her

Eyes half asleep 

Body resting

I do not think excitement will ever

Be inside me again

Of course it will silly

She says

Hopping down from her chair

She is ready to follow the pathway

I rise to my feet

And follow. 

My Father, Dying

This is the story of

My father, dying

Mother holds his hand

I am too far away to reach 

We are at home

It should be soft

Instead it feels brutal 

In this moment at least 

Outside of the windows

The fields sway

They will move beyond my father

Afterwards 

It feels as if I should help

But it is a work

Outside of my endurance 

To say it is hard

Seems small 

Except it is

We all must leave

We all must have a hand to hold 

Nothing more

Nothing less

The way of the world 

The passing of life

The silence of being

Beyond reality

She is with me

I will always have her tiny hand in mine

There is a whole world of comfort in that

And as my father lies dying

I feel a relief

I feel that we will be safe. 

Pursuing The Uncanny

 

                                            Pursuing The Uncanny - Ralph Eugene Meatyard 

She is a ghost

Salt and pepper on her lips 

Hair flowing

Fingers happy 

Coated in honey and jam 

We play by the old trees

She climbs

I watch

Wish I could be nimble

Like her

The smallest things are exciting

When you are little

She giggles 

I am too tired for excitement

A cup of tea

And silence keep me happy

That and pursuing the uncanny

With her

She really is an adventurer 

So many stories and riddles

No wonder she can't stand still 

I like how her movement is captured

It feels like possibility 

A progression

I am stuck and solid

As an obelisk 

Watching 

Idle 

Dreaming 

Waiting

Always waiting

I have forgotten the colours 

But black and white is timeless

In a way

It takes us back

Makes the image sharper

The memory richer

The pursuit much clearer

The ghost made flesh. 

Second Coming

Her fingers brush my thighs

We are waiting for the second coming

What was the first she asks

Darkness and beasts 

I reply 

We sit in the cradle of our nightmares 

Stony lions 

And the revelation of words 

Is this the worst thing to happen

Or the best

Depends on the first coming

She whispers 

We hold hands

Indignant 

There is a wide desert in front of us

This is only a journey

An imagination

Of stars and moon 

We must move forward

Foot by foot

How we wish for brighter days

For the coming to arrive

And the wait to be over

We swill syllables around our mouth

Make up words

And sentences

The word

She whispers

All there is is words

Our flesh moulds into one

And we will wait

We will wait. 

Butterflies and Moths

She inhales butterflies

I exhale moths

We are spinning stories

Hungry as lions

Busy as spiders

Quiet as caterpillars

She giggles as the coloured bodies

Pass her lips

Just like candy she declares

And the wings are like a sugar crust

Moths are more like dead leaves

It is hard not to crunch them

The sun shines

We ache

For sleep

For tenderness

It will come

She whispers

It feels doubtful 

Perhaps it is already here

But we do not notice

Too busy with our games and chances

Just so

She says 

The butterflies and moths

Only visit us for the day

Tomorrow may bring 

Flowers and stars

The light fades

We let them take wing

Watch as they fly into their conclusion 

Happy that we got to share their life

If only for a moment.

Brightness

We are looking at the moon 

After rain

It stretches out before us

Like the sea 

It blows bright

Gently humming waves

Movement and stillness

Tangled up together 

Like our breath

Rising and falling 

Broken thoughts

Shining feelings

A brightness

Like the sky 

With its whispering clouds 

Slowly lapping at us

A fan of air

A moment of distillation 

A cool breeze 

A deep breath

All that we have in common with the world

We prefer the dark

The brightness hurts our eyes

And yet we must look

Be awake for a single moment

Catch the raindrops 

Bathe in the milky light 

Pale skin glowing 

Eyes dilated

We must watch 

Until the sun comes up 

And says goodbye to moon. 

Uncanny

It is uncanny how we fit together

Like peas in a pod

Or cherries on pies

She giggles

Wrapping her fingers 

Around mine

Do you think we are unusual 

She asks

Of course little Cricket

That is the best thing to be

We sit and think for a moment

The clouds move by

The heat soaks into our tired skin

Our being is uncommon

Just as it should be

Who would want to be normal

She squeals 

That would be very dull indeed

I think to myself

That it might be good to take a holiday

In normal

Just to see

To feel 

But everyone has troubles 

And foibles

I like being us

She whispers

Cutting through the dreaming 

It is uncanny how we fit together

Like peas in a pod

Or cherries on pies.

Blue-Green Stream

The water in the blue-green stream

Is as clear as silk

It advances through the hills

And into the river 

A broken path

A place where we can be placid

Curled up forever 

In the ebb and flow 

The water makes a noise

Like a heartbeat she whispers

Lub dub 

Lub dub 

We reach out to the water 

With our fingers

It is cool

And washes the sugar clean 

We will wait until darkness

Before we move 

Before the cold air bites at our skin

And we shiver for bed

I wonder if we will dream of the sea

If it would be warm as a cradle

Or harsh as a dragon 

So many dreams 

She sighs

As the moon nudges its way into the sky

We stretch our legs

Straighten our spines

Leave the blue-green stream for another day.