Everyday Ritual

Old Door WM

Everyday Ritual
The cups are neatly stacked,
Soft flowing handles in line,
In kettle’s blue light, eddies
Of water, shimmer and dance,
promising dark pleasures.

Unswirled, rich aroma,
Now delving, scooping, deep brown
Granules, measuring right
Taste, imagined memory,
Guiding mysterious ritual.

© David R. Durham


Boys Jumping WM

Standing Where I Once Stood

Standing where I once stood, once larked,
Fresh in youthful eyes and heart,
Exuberant games with friendly faces,
The only faces I had known, experienced,
Navigating the native neighborhoods,
Fragile recall. Mind’s tainted eye.

Homespun stories turn the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or valued by experience gained.

Standing where I once stood, once loved,
Racing to the finish line, grasping at
Victory’s promise, beckoning adventures,
Dancing in passion soaked joys, inviting
Life’s raw seed to raging ripening,
Fragmented heart. Sentiment corrupted.

Organic stories fuel the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or cherished by love’s bewitchment.

Standing where I once stood, once lived,
This dhamma body drinks Messiah’s blood,
Ravishing the earth corrupted heavenly
Host, that rages hot, then cold with each
Passing prayer, and tempts old bones to
False resurrection. Soul deceived.

Human stories spin the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or rated by voluntary sweet charity.

© David R. Durham

Love Held Tight


Love Held Tight
With love held tight in hearts embrace,
Would’st the scent of love be enough,
Should a whisper fulfill our finest grace,
Or will full storm of voices be raised,
With longing left far behind on shrinking shore,
‘Till neither you nor I falter in hesitant dark,
And all our days they flower into this, this honest moment,
Where secret words weave their prophetic spells,
And tenderness holds sway over doubt filled years,
Yet no love song, nor pure sonnet can compare,
With love held tight in hearts embrace.

© David R. Durham

Three Worlds


Three Worlds
Love inspired magical voices chant,
Meeting place of earth and sky, drumming finds,
Resonant core rhythm, seed and amplify,
Nascent spirit’s dance, loosen mind’s tight grip,
Rippling songs strip blinkered eyes doubts.

Inviting ocean of love, which speaks and,
Knows our names, convulse viscerally to,
Still point in salvation’s ravenous breath,
Collapse terrified into vacant black,
Deathly void, homeless home, life eternal.

Love shatters shape shifter’s blind mask and holds,
Our dripping head aloft triumpant, blessing the,
Blood soaked liberation ground, purged,
Grace resurrects, reborn to deathless joy,
Visionless eye witnesses, faithless awe.

© David R. Durham


Lady in Blue Sq

Flickering movies on mind’s eye,
Some sprinkled with fear,
Some bubbling with joy.

Are you living through memory?
To make sense of these words,
To make sense of your world.

Bold, brave biographies,
Re-told to suit your pleasures,
Re-told to avoid your pains.

Built moment by moment,
Your past lives your present,
Your ancestors breathing.

Woven tributaries flow and blend,
Deep run your memories,
Deep lies your humanity.

Miraculous communal tapestry,
Of earth, sky and soul,
Of blood-lines, kins folk and tribes.

© David R. Durham

Ancient Prayers

Old Church WM

Ancient Prayers
Pungent incense adorns austere vestments,
Aching knees, silent witnesses, testify,
Propitiate holy separation’s torments.

Dust hovers, swirls, dances in sunlit shafts,
Children yawn, babies doze, angel’s smiles,
Pungent incense adorns austere vestments.

Liturgy, elegant life giving river,
Evaporating desires, cleanse souls,
Propitiate holy separation’s torments.

Sacred rite, gifted ancient tradition,
Well loved, humbly tended continuances,
Pungent incense adorns austere vestments.

Compassionate soft voices, mellowed,
By agéd wisdom, prayerful, praised,
Propitiate holy separation’s torments.

Hands lie restless on patient lap, neither,
Content nor uncontent, folded, naked,
Pungent incense adorns austere vestments,
Propitiate holy separation’s torments.

© David R. Durham

Silent Observer


Silent Observer
Rippling, ripping past yarns,
Bubbling, blissful anger,
Bustling, breaking on my mind’s shore.

Needling my past to see my future,
Believing my beliefs hides new truth,
Understanding is limiting my experience.

Healing, nothing to do with fixing things,
Living, learning to dance with a broken leg,
Human being, exploding across the night sky of consciousness.

© David R. Durham



Garden Of Eden
Casually draped emotions, barely felt,
Shimmer and ripple with each casual glance,
Faultless ways, cultured mind’s illusion,
Create false regrets, zoo sanctioned chiding.

Sacred mourning over a fallen people,
No going back, the curved archway should have read,
Once picked, fruit starts to rot, no going back,
Joyous lament, sensuous piety, righteous crime.

What bitter playground for swirling dust bowls,
Dancing o’er civilised man’s fields,
Lost, drowned in frost bitten modernity,
Broken skyline, poisoned dreams, black water.

© David R. Durham

Dream Time

poetry blog

Dream Time
Softly chanted incantations in candle lit darkness,
Your compassionate gaze fills our hearts,
Time ticks another round, scribbling another score,
Fond memories arise of love songs we’ve lived,
Whilst the dogs of unsung songs bay our hearts.

Sweet incense swirls, upward and fleeting,
What others’ pleasing stories have our lives told,
What dreams fell by the wayside, too frail to survive,
Paths we take, were led to, followed dutifully,
Innocent anecdotes of mortal games.

Our candles burn slowly down and down,
Unfolding distortions of dream-time myths,
Our timeless wisdom calls us home,
Are we the light in the darkness,
The eternal in the fleeting.

© David R. Durham