 Running about the garden, with my little yellow net.
Tottering in and out of borders, wondering what life I’d met. Chasing fellow brethren, through flowers and the veg. Pulling wings off Cabbage White, avenging atrocities of the dead. Then one moment that did change, you appeared above the hedge. A power came to greet me, placing love in heart, in wedge. So vibrant in your colour, yellow, magenta, cyan, black. Shining well beyond that of mine, I could never now look back. What pleasure had you brought to me, in one mere fleeting glimpse. Little did I know then, how long before meeting hence. Three decades flew by, plus a year or two besides. Travel needed to foreign lands, different times and tides. But there again you were, in garden, bobbing through the bush. My pulse began a racing, to a beat I could hardly hush. For here you brought an energy, like which I had never felt. Throbbing up my vertebrae, my body began to melt. A tingle and a rush of blood, my head was all a swoon. Giddy with delight on seeing you, one moment not too soon. All ablaze in sunshine, of daffodil in hue. A dream to be together again, just that of me and you. But what about the purpose, connection thirty years apart. A thought I must just ponder on, not knowing where to start. And so a journey then began, of peak and then of trough. Of looking for my life and path, before spirit cried enough. A dozen dances of the wheel, had come and gone by then. Camped within Druid valley, awash with poetry and of pen. Nights spent under canvas, daytime in and out of lodge. A training in completion, no false identity to dodge. Here I was in element, to nature in just keeping. Touched so deeply by the land, tears continued on the weeping. And so it was upon the vale, where swallows kept a coming. Swooping low and fast, bringing messages of becoming. Darting here and darting there, a gilding and a sail. A flish, a flash, a loop or two, one glorious coloured tail. Whispering ever so quietly, each one they said the same. My mirror that of Swallowtail, I’d found my medicine name. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below.
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 On rousing, she snook in beside me.
A thief, at work in the night. She’s come, to steal all my virtue. With weapons, of fear and delight. Femme fatale, she is in the making. Fine scented, and soft to the touch. Luxurious legs, and great bosom. You’ld never, imagine as much. I say, I’m up early this morning. No time, to dwindle and play. She winks, and breathes ever closer. Then whispers, wait awhile, stay. I fiddle, with corner of cover. Well, what’s one more turn or a toss. I shrug, my shoulder at fortune. My stone, will gather more moss. For now, I am back in the rapture. My beloved, has snagged me once more. One hour, or three go by now. No richer, I’m left with the poor. I’m beaten, my mind unforgiving. Opportunity, has come and just gone. I’m staring, long into lunchtime. Those minutes, hustled away, a con. Depression, she’s so very clever. Just preying, on buttons of weak. Pulling me, back to the pillow. My purpose, I continue to seek. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below. |
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