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O’ Bag a Bones

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dead bird

O’ Bag a Bones

O’ bag a bones does thou lie t’ me? Now
I recognise thee on waking, thee I
Know, Does’t thou recognise waking me?

O’ bag a bones thy life so fancy, thy story
Well told, again and again thy rymes unfold, each
Passing second, each fanciful hour thy
Tale weaves another carefully wrought thread of life.

O’ bag a bones thy feels so old, a story
Long in the tellin’, a stop start yarn, a
Dream come true in eaten moments, thy’s not
Me lad, thy’s not me, but who are thee in
Striding rhymic gait and in winceful smile.

O’ bag a bones thy story stinks. Thy thinks folk
Like thee, thy thinks folk ignore thee, nay lad,
Thy thinks too much. Thy’s imagining it lad.

O’ bag a bones lay down thy heavy burden,
Stop thy dreaming, thy imagined fanciful
Life. Thy’s story tellin’ from morn’ ’til night, in
Pain and pleasure, wi’ boredom and fear, in
Well rehearsed lustful hardship.

O’ bag a bones thy day is through, thy end
Is restful night, dark night, lost again to sleep,
Lost again to hope of what new day might bring,
O’ bag a bones am I thy lie of me?

© David R. Durham
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Sleepy Head

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poems

Sleep
Sleep, sleep and rest your time filled head, rest
Easy in your time liberated dreams. Dance, dance,
Flow with the rhythm of life’s dream-time, before
Simple me arises again with the morning sun.

© David R. Durham
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Entrances & Exits

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poetry

Tell me Mr. Doorman, what shall I pay you
To keep the world at bay? The other world,
That other place, you know which one I mean.

Tell me Mr. Gatekeeper, what fee must
I pay to let me pass this way? A long
Forbidden path, you know the one I mean.

© David R. Durham
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Time

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poems

Time

Has no edges, stacked, unstacked, leave behind,
Now moving ahead, we flow
unconsciously.
No way to change direction, we imagine other
Paths, dream in vain of other happier times.

Onward tumbling we go, no rest or pause,
A parachutist’s committed descent, body
And soul, until
Death adds a final full-stop,
Untwined once more, tiny yet vast,
remember.

© David R. Durham
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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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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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