poems

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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