b&w photography

The Angry Men

Posted on Updated on

poetry
 

The Angry Men
The angry men swarmed across the Earth,
Cawing with their fractious voices,
Driven by their untamed hearts,
Lustful in their greedy nature,
Filled with perfidious self-doubts,
Friends with fulsome fear.

The angry men ignore Earth’s grace,
Sucking the lands dry,
Seizing their false birthright,
Wealth their unholy credo,
Filled with well disguised grief,
Friends with blood-sucking despair.

The angry men born of pained birth,
Slapped with welcoming rough hand,
Conceived in a fit of poisoned rage,
Inherited complicit guilt,
Filled with dark pools of sadness,
Friends with midnight terror.

© David R. Durham
To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

The Offering

Posted on Updated on

poetry

The Offering
Sacred invocations gently calling,
Sculpted ebony hands, clasped prayer like,
Tribal keepers of lore, wisdom and love.

Voices awash with ancient memories,
Earth pulse, effortless dancing, raptured chants,
Forgotten time, forgotten self, home again.

Love woven hearts in blissful surrender,
Earthy fragrant aroma melts their minds,
Naught but this, naught but complete release now.

© David R. Durham
To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

Echoes

Posted on Updated on

poetry

Echoes of Somewhere

Somewhere there is a beating human heart,
Human heart, human heart;

Somewhere there is a heart that is singing,
Is singing, is singing;

Somewhere there is our dearest lover,
Dearest lover, dearest lover;

Somewhere there is the warmest of smiles greeting us,
Greeting us, greeting us;

Somewhere there is our human life, consumed and soon forgotten,
Soon forgotten, soon forgotten;

Somewhere there is an angel chanting, chanting our healing songs,
Healing songs, healing songs;

Somewhere there is a truth so near, so simple,
So simple, so simple;

Somewhere there is an eternal home we never left,
Never left, never left;

Somewhere there is a God who never believed in our human dream,
Human dream, human dream;

Somewhere is here,
Is here, is here.

© David R. Durham
To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

Old Photos

Posted on Updated on

poetry

Old Photo’s
Bending to tie my shoes, seems a little
Harder this year, I sit, baggy trousered,
Caressing the old blue photo album,
Embossing slightly worn, occasional
Pages are a little loose now. Opened;
Love lost remembered, discovered
Between stuck-together pages, brushing
The grey stubble on my chin, grinning, my head,
Bow’d slightly, silently reminiscing.
Bairns now grown, girls now grans, adults long dead.

The dented kettle boils, its’ aged long
Blackened spout pouting wisps of warm mist.
“Come on, time for tea.” She used to call us,
In that everyday voice, that home-spun warm tone,
Voices from a childhood world we did not
Realise would end so soon. Done play’n, done work’n,
We noisily brought our mess in, our human stain,
Generation upon generation.
Skilled in hand, passionate in deep breath,
Long tribal memories not passed on,
No secret diaries or home-crafted poems,
Just a few edge-discoloured photos
Of familiar, half-familiar faces.

Ah now, which cup? Funny how tea seems to
Taste better in the old cracked one,
Stained brown patterns, worn timeless with age.
Lived in, doubted in and dreamed in.
The old kettle rattles to a grudging
Halt, satisfied. A homely job well done.
A satisfied human life well lived,
A few cracks here and there, well worn with age,
Lived in, loved in and dreamed in.

© David R. Durham
To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

A Created Life

Posted on Updated on

boat photo

Mind Games
Pealing apart the layers of our mind,
Glued together with words, stitched by time,
It unfolds unevenly, breaking up on
Reflections of what probably happened,
Quivering at heart felt dreams of what might
Have played out, had no winter arrived.

© David R. Durham
To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

Memories In Stone

Posted on Updated on

poetry

Memories In Stone
Can memories turn to stone? Can the breath
Of life leave enduring traces, skeletons
In time, long past the memory of living
Men? Pulsating, vibrant mind, captured in
More than flesh and blood of flowering brain.

© David R. Durham
To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

Tribal Roots

Posted on Updated on

poetry

Tribal Roots
Tickle the time when your dreams can come true,
Leave behind old scores unsettled, magnify
Your hopes and twist the reality we call fate.

Lie merchants breath life into old bones dangling,
In the soft comfortable chair paused in time,
Channel after channel of dreamers delight.

Seldom have we marched to one drum beat,
Seldom have we sung one anthem so loud,
Tribal roots calling, calling us back home.

Shuffle softly to the head of the queue,
Where dark dim archways beckon us away from
The cold, caves of welcome invite us in.

© David R. Durham
To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.