Clouds in May

Let all the world blow by in despair
So long as I have my blossom tree
And the clouds in May

A quiet grief

A quiet grief
The small bunch of flowers
On the dirty lamp post
A thousand drivers a day pass this place
In third gear looking for fourth
Do any even notice
So small and tragic a thing?

Clever concepts

All clever concepts close but no cigar
For when the field is in the field
It is no longer the field

Silence becomes a sound

This can never be held on to
For then nothing is represented by something
Then silence becomes a sound

No thought

Can you hear silence
Or see darkness
How about think no thought?


Watch the body breathing
The heart beating
The brain thinking
See the spoiled plans
The frustration
And behind it all find something
Perfectly ordinary
In suffering as much as in pleasure


It is better by far
To be a cog in a wonderful machine
Than a broken part
Always longing to be whole

A silence

A silence in the air
No desire to talk now
While the wind blows the long grass
The crow flaps from branch to tile
While car tyres rumble on tarmac

One eye

One eye opens wide
Ah! A fragile, frosty morn
No footsteps yet upon the lawn

Hint of Spring

A first hint of spring
Life sparks in a weary world
From mud flowers bloom

Previous Older Entries

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014 Registered & Protected

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 869 other followers