Words – a blind catch in the sun

response

readers read and their eyes write
write the writer back
tributary to the river
of their dream

AKH (31st March 2020)

controversial

surely necessary
to turn against
as well as with
within verses

but in all my flowing with
all our flowing with
surely cannot be
the conclusion

AKH (31st March 2020)

humbled in soul break
pray, pray now
as i should anyway
first in thanks for life
any wordless poetry
granted there, anon.
moments’ blessings
living well
in harmony
an orchard to tend,
faithful,
apples come
when seasons bring them

A. H / K. H-H (6th March 2020)

read the whole post for some introduction

Poetics (again)

you know all that ‘poetry is all the right words, just the right words, in the right order’ stuff well, who would argue with that? but, i was thinking – partly as i’ve been reading Rumi, and partly from my own, very occasional experience — and hey, maybe this defines my limits thus far as…

xix (’19)

before i write off all other expressions as tropes
and with that what else?
examples of the great misunderstanding
words just words no matter of their roots

and though i may seem to do just so myself
accidentally opinionated on high
despite a hidden lifetime avoiding this

would someone,
gently,
lovingly perhaps,
touch me

K. H-H / A. H (11th May 2019)

Cairn, 2019: Paper

It is not first words.
Nor any we have spoken.
But that we may, hoping . . .

* * *

I am lost in this world,
in all the worlds within
in all the words spoken
the storm they ride,
their wind.

But at any moment
may forget the whirl,
remember silent arbour,
rooted anchorage,
quite still.

Whether in clearing
on wood path
or forest full grown.

Waking to tree sense,
breeze through my leaves,
xylem flowing
transpiration free.

I hear the birds singing,
a tune to the day.
Their songs my book of hours,
months, years, nights, days.

Sound waves at sea
on the sonic sound-all.
I sway to their themes,
in the wind of my fall,
silent and knowing
there is no need for more.

Until I come to, share this,
trail golden leaves
for a few breaths spoken,
before they’re scattered,
guttered, senseless, blown.

* * *

For what am I hoping
with these, my tokens . . .

A. H / K. H-H (17th October 2016)

Untitled iii (’19)

Oh Word, protect me from the words
of those so sure of your sense
to claim their limited vocabulary
your State, not the great unboundariedness

A. H / K. H-H (4 February 2019)

Error

unable to speak
to the fullness in everything
he fell into speech
as though his needed roughness
excused our highest duty, love

as though others understood 

A. H (24th December 2018

wind carried words

I was thinking about old poems that I never felt got to where they could, or never satisfied me somehow, and how it is wrong to assume they never will or will never have bits used elsewhere – and that reminded me how it is also wrong of me to assume that any of my…

the door to all beginnings?

at an edge of language the end of its path a flat earth fall off into black i reach out, desperate for a hand to grasp pull me close, embrace let me bury my face in a soft scented neck no, not at this edge not yet, not ever gasping thread airs learning the light…