tumbleweed ivy,

The wall outside is

ivy covered, hiding

its energetic lines

Quiet words written 

from a hospital bed

seeing nature thrive

With rampant ivy

our hard-headed concrete 

realities mesh

Disconnectedly

I see my rose tint lense

shattering in light

No need for seeing

even less for writing

happy tumbleweed

© 2011 Poetry by Paul Dorkin. All rights reserved.

:-)

Butt naked to butterfly collector

Bourne

overhanging branches, interlacing sunlight
and the time tunnel walls of quiet pathways
thousands of years marking the lines
of mirrored selves lost in difference.

strolling naked through the trees
I was absent for a while
on the cool flint banks
of Seven Year Bourne

eyes alive in the wild wood

my ancestors calling me,

the forever green man.
sitting sipping spirit from the air
the scent of mead, hops and soft summer
the languid soil a lush warm bed
alive and alive in mystical myriad thread

for all is well, has been well, will be well
as the Easter song says
       'all will be well'
           all will be well
                     will be well

be well'



so difficult to write happy, better to smile than talk, laugh than smile, time to stroll naked through the trees      :-)....

ah well !


© 2011 Poetry by Paul Dorkin. All rights reserved.

American Tune - (Eva Cassidy)

AMERICAN TUNE by Paul Simon/September 5, 1974

Sunset Child

She goes along every now and then
just to get her mask replaced
through the sight of his ageless fb face

She thinks its love but knows its not
imagines a time when she will reach out
to do more than observe

But her dreams colour jaded grey
and her body shuffles away inside
for it, at least feels
                      the stranger she watches

And time slips away, away
lost in her safe havens
lost in the magic mirrors crying
fairest of the fair

drifting in ever more dim returning
to her paths of illusion
the cruel kindness of brittle glass fragmenting
leaving ever smaller pieces
                           for her to hold on to
                                                       in to

which part of herself can still be seen?
when will the shattered lens be beyond her means?

walk away walk away into the wild
see the sunrise sunset child
walk away walk away into the wild

rest in the madness and try not to fear
rest in the sanity of weakness and tears
rest in the soft touch, the sun and the stars
peace in a mirrorless moment unscarred.


© 2011 Poetry by Paul Dorkin. All rights reserved.