Big Blue Yonder

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poems

Big Blue Yonder

You hope to meet me in a distant heavenly tomorrow;
A kettle starts to boil.

You catch a glimpse of my face in the moon and stars;
Letters drop through the door.

You call for me in your darkest, loneliest hours;
My shirt it smells fresh, newly washed.

You find brief respite in the words of great teachers;
A cough reminds me to buy some more vitamins.

Your holy mantras sing of love and longing;
The noise of children playing disturbs my restless thoughts.

You search in vain for me on the mountain tops;
When all the time I am here, here in the your valleys and homes.

Eternally present in your heart of hearts.

© David R. Durham
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Cafe Style

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poetry

Cafe Style
Blind rules didn’t necessarily
Mean too much to him, he skiffled
And shuffled up and down the stairs.

His rough worn manual labour hands,
Are gripping, floating, rubbing, flirting
With polished grained wooden rail.

He seldom looked down, his sure
Falling feet finding their usual
Well rehearsed home trodden place.

© David R. Durham
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The Journey

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london bridge b&w

The journey begins, upsidedown
Weather, foul beeze wrapping round me
Solid thighs. Horn calls clatter
Of’d starboard bow, caught in taught
Fever of blue cold mornin’ rush-hour.

© David R. Durham
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Leaves & Snow

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poetry

Circumscribed by her warm smile,
Feelings of comfort, memories of
Home flutter, falling falling with
Winters’ white grace.

© David R. Durham
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Winter Reeds

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poems

The Words Come Softly

The words come softly;
At the break of the day.

The words come softly;
And speak of fears they want to slay.

The words come softly;
Union is forever they say.

The words come softly;
Who’s words, who’s thoughts come today?

The words come softly;
When Spirit comes our way.

The words come softly;
For those who chose to listen.

© David R. Durham
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Slumbering Memories

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trees in silouhette
 

Slumbering giants soft reverie mellows
In winter’s slanting rays, whispers whispers
Of spring’s future unfolding green pleasures.

 

© David R. Durham
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Rural Simplicity

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poetry

Rural Simplicity
The natural order rests in rural peace,
There is no strain no forced modern pace.
 
 
© David R. Durham
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