Carnaval Night

Carnaval Night, a photo by Alembisque on Flickr.

Fanal

against

the pressured light

no sense of falling

no sense of impact

yet fall I had

defying the fourth dimension she chicaned through the beaded curtain

the yellowing strands parting and closing in freeze frame

I met her gaze and everything burst

pulsing full term with exquisite

Fanal rhythms

last rites

half wakeful dark

I feel you again my loose arm circling your back narrows

letting my hand explore the necessary shapes of mortality

drift back to dreams of wounded chaos tumbling tumbling

as if I could hold you against the weakness against the winter sun

that blinks briefly at my window as it rises over roof tops and slots back

into grey cloud as if this were its allotted place

as if you never were Magdalena

no purchase

no fulcrum

to lever you back

we were one once

I am lost

freed to roam

over white lands of turmoil

pinning my failing red eyes

searching for imaginings to

stumble out my days

your bath sheet readied

against my breast

Sea Words

I

Unsteadily they weave

Between crests

As they pitch

Headlong and

Tumble

II

Ground swells and destiny

Listening far out at sea

Reaching for words

III

Weighed

Once intact

Now broken

Freed of tension

Borne again finding

Solace that’s unspoken

Will return unto the shore.

Digging

Very pleased to have my first online published poem in Poetry Express, Page 37
http://www.survivorspoetry.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/PE381.pdf

MY MAGDALENA

My Magdalena

Seized rumours placed her on a Narbonensis shore

long before brief sojourns took me southward

truth is it doesn’t really matter

she had slipped in garbs of red long before

the dawn of Paul was grounded in his Rabat grotto

and like future lovers she had no call on me at all

then a trinity of de Grailly women took to bathe

each in turn lowered with their white shrouds into the

transforming water for each emerging Magdalena

rusted waters drained only for the story to be retold

their shrouds long gone new lovers stitch linen hems

for themselves to live in and enfold the myth

flickering the image into my blindness

bade me go and find those who paint anew

In search of Magdalena

This is an online gallery on my Flickr site.

In search of Magdalena

 Photo by Andrea Kennard from the gallery.