Month: December 2011

The Stormy Calm of End [sonnet]

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the_stormy_calm_of_end

Condemned to live without a woman’s touch
for once too often love had been betrayed.
Perhaps the word «condemned» you think too much
because by choice that bold resolve was made.
The desert has a beauty of its own —
a boundless smooth and undulating sea;
just like the flesh which once had been enthroned
within the mind which now spurns company.
Yet, in eremic wastes there is sublime
and slakeful consolation to be found;
as pouring sand is used to portray time
with promises of soundless underground.
For only in the stormy calm of end
can we the taint of treachery transcend.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

When people discover that I haven’t drunk any alcohol

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When people discover that I haven’t drunk any alcohol for more than 40 years I get some very interesting reactions. A popular one is “You don’t drink?!!? How boring!” They mean it must be boring for me because I don’t drink and that it’s also boring for them because they want everyone to be like they are. Another reaction is “Oh, are you a recovering alcoholic then?” For the record, I am neither bored nor am I a recovering alcoholic. I don’t drink 1) Because it only takes a thimbleful to make me silly (as I discovered when I was a teenager); 2) Because I am already high enough on life, love, music, wordness & nature to need any artificial stimulants; 3) I like to have a clear head and enough incisive focus to leave no stone unturned; 4) I’ve never liked to follow the crowd. So… I hope that explains everything! 🙂

Little Puppy Dog [poem]

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He’s like a little puppy on his first extended walk:
Rushing up to every face
without defences held in place.
So much wanting just to give;
loves the moment — loves to live.
Won’t object to being stroked;
pulled so hard he nearly choked.
Strides through bullshit everywhere;
little puppy doesn’t care —
he just bounces round with glee
exasperates his family.
Sees the whole world as his friends
lives and loves as life intends
doesn’t mind who he offends.
“Tut-tut”, they say, with features stern.
“That little puppy needs to learn
to simmer down and play it cool.
Let’s put him through some fancy school
where he can gain some adult skills
grow some horns, cut down on thrills”.
At that, he breaks the leash — bursts free.
That little puppy dog…
is me.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Nothing is Lovelier than Love [sonnet]

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nothing_is_lovelier_than_love

Nothing is lovelier than love, said she;
and this despite misgivings that she held.
Her heart, downed and skeltered by life’s rich scree
still nonetheless in fertile hope full dwelled.
It has to be a true song of the heart,
she said, no more willing to compromise
the pristine-coated soundness of her art —
an urge with which I wholly empathise.
Please know that it is never love which hurts
but only human foolishness applied.
To push or dam the river disconcerts;
we can’t ignore the sacred inner guide.
I earned her feathered dart’s unswerving flight
and wonder if she’ll tryst this riding knight.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Beneath the Lid [poem]

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beneath_the_lid

The whole world smugly screamly sits
on a keening bed of fears
belied by shrieks of laughter
as comfort thoughts of everafter
trickle through our beards.

Knowing well we’re only dreaming
microseconds from disaster
we strategize to sanitise
the lacework trail of our fragile lives
(and woe betide intruding eyes).

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