Wednesday, 20 May 2009


Of all the hours left to pass
The ones you want utmost to last
Are those that miss your autograph
Whilst fleeting.

And try you might to halt their time
They’re gone before you’ve counter signed
The page they left to underline
Your meeting.

Their stories flit too quick to note
The worthiness that wisdom wrote
About the sense of overcoats
In winter,

Whose harshness is the nearest jar,
And keenest wish the farthest star,
And darkest hush the hardest part
Fell into.

And pictures took cannot recall
Exactly how the moment stalled
And touch and taste are not at all

Whilst sound diminishes inside
And scent declines to advertise
Itself upon the winded isle

1 comment:

  1. Okay, I guess you have reintroduced me to rhyme & rhythm. This one seems to be something heard even though it's read in silence. It really seems to scream to be recorded. I love the way every stanza(?)ends. Effective/Selected. The damn thing is so smooth & silky.
    I kind of think you could grab some of these moments up with words & install them in the eternal museum, celebrate them, ceremonialize them,give them life etc. Well, maybe that's what you've done by writing about how they escape us. This one is sleek, a song.