Posted on by Glenn Mower

Encountering

She arrives

Wide eyed

Sensitized.

Breathing towards being

Chair wise

We meet.

Sliding into shoes

Searching minds

Circulate

Pre-ambulate to

Rareify upon

Winds heating embers

Moving passions to fuse without

Within.

Above what seems to be

Compressed seams

Either

Hovers the very tips

Of deepest unknowing.

Condensation

Creates webbing and flows of

Global tingling

As eyes are caught within

The lint and glint of re-remembrance.

Re-carpeting meaning

She is pondering earth and sky

Touching and re-touching

This dragon fly

Delicately needing connection upon

Silence.

She fills with breath and

Thanks me

I thank us and

Within the swim of otherness

She re-gathers coat and phone and

Unbelongings to

Soft foot her fragility

Into this new mourning.

Posted on by Glenn Mower

Hope

Luminous driftings

Satin and gold

Sweet taste the waters

For wellness of Soul

Ripening blossoms

For fullness to form

Futures engorging

Autumnal rich sun.

Glancing romances

Daydream to be hold

Gyrational  dancing

Through young blood and old

Breezing belief

With lashes closed tight

She’s pregnant

And verdant

And flutters for flight.

Posted on by Glenn Mower

Light

Soft rays breeze silver for waxing green leaves

Red berry hands beauty to stem strangled weeds

Crows hack out the skyline

Slime chewed rooting succumbs to their fate

Wood pigeon soothes hedgerows of dense

Sparrow space

Tall grass bows their seed heads

While nestling docks bring

Damp balm to the woodlouse

And the nettles sharp sting.

Posted on by Glenn Mower

Intoning

Intoning the bells of my brethren

Gasping within their air

I cling to this sofa as

Limbs and fire storms roam

through  districts of carnage

That they once called home.

I pray that in this moment

They may see through my eyes

That they may be opened, relieved

Re moved by the beauty outside my door

Re-joined and re-made

Within this same planet

This same moment

To taste again the nectar of

Bees suckling yellows, oranges and

Yes even these blood red poppies

Shaded and shaved

Beneath the olive tree’s

Translucent bark.

Posted on by Glenn Mower

This mornings ablution

Crack lip

Sinus block

Prostate creaking

Pills pop

Mirror

Misting

Sore i ache

Blood nick

Fused

Andrex to

Skin

Wrapped in

Towelling

Still I moan

Here’s to

The waist

That shoulda

Been.









































Her new purple towel





Sticks fibre to skin





And wraps fat around a profile





Where my waist should have been.