sea voyage #2

Dream shiver, frayed lace limbs,
buffetted by thick-mist twists;
(coiling and furling, reforming, uncurling you
into tide scented shadows.)
                                                        your form fades to grey
                                                        swept away 
                                                        dissolved to the spray that sprinkles the deck
                                                        with a world of crystalline sparkles ~

                                                        a strewn handful of discarded stars
                                                        disguise the scars that ripple oak boards,
                                                        each a well-worn truth.

The night heaves to shore
a million sleepers stir, the earth tilts. 

Blinks.

The mist settles a ghost-guilded gossamer on the slates. 
Wet paths glimmer with a golden sunrise glow~

                                                           gulls wheel.
                                                           moonguided tides lap the sand smooth.
                                                           all is still

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copyright 2007 ebby.
first published in 2001.

The Magician, The Artist and The Priest.

A tilt of your hat
cast an indigo ocean glow; the sunspangled ripples
crossed your mind
like silver coins spinning on a polished piano.
in your coat,
succulent berrybright jewels~ amethyst, ruby, emerald
dancedeep in your pocket: an inkstained hand
conducting a chinking, clinking symphony
of exquisite colour.
you painted
that springtide-high surging sea:
smoother of pebbles, yet stroppy as a storm,
it swept you away.
the sacrament:
there was nothing inside the intricately carved
Covenant box
but a tiny orchid carved from opal
and the words we put there.

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The title has been ruthlessly stolen from my darling friend Paul Squires who has published a poem with the same title in his magnificent, magical work: The Puzzle Box.  I miss him deeply and know that I am not alone.  He was a truly gifted poet who guided many and inspired many more.  He believed that the internet was as worthy a medium for presenting poetry as any other, and worked tirelessly to promote new poets, like me.
His work is everywhere, but specifically here, on wordpress.  You can read more of his work on the Gingatao page, and also on the collaborative writers site The Orchid Room, both of which you can find in my blogroll and also where you can find some of my work which has never been posted anywhere else.
I truly believe that Paul’s legacy will spread like wildfire.  A true genius of our generation.

for iris, with refrain.

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mounted on plaster posing as marble,
cast from pirites dressed up as gold.
On closer inspection the silk is just cotton,
the coffee is instant, the promise forgotten.

this afternoon when the wind rose.

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the grass ocean pours over and over.
one windswept wave after another;
a sea of single stems
bowing froth.topped heads,
politely
turning an ear from the wind’s spiteful tongue.

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This voice,
a bug in a box, a cave-call echo
swept greedily free from the five fathom fronds,
raging, raging.
snap.twigs scatter skiddy leaves bashfully,
hush.
hedges shrug, what is it to them but
a birds~wing bough shake?

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You too should watch this,
tightly wound in your silver case
ruby-balanced and ruled by science,
angry at the wind.

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