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A Milestone

This is a milestone.
These words,
This work,
This is a milestone.
One hundred posts!
I only started a few weeks ago.
I must be having fun
Or something like it.
And straight away I get that feeling,
The one that brings me back down
To sullen earth.
The feeling that makes me think,
“So what?”
“Is that all?”
Deflating and depressing,
The down side of up.
I’ve been here before:
The birth of my boy;
My wedding ceremony;
Getting my degree;
Times like that
And lesser times too.
At these times I was
Right up there,
Mad with glee,
Circling the world,
And then it was gone,
That pure moment,
It was past,
And the world had turned
And I had to move on.
And so I sit here now and see
That’s all I’ve written
One hundred posts!
In all that time.

A Dreamcatcher

I have a dreamcatcher.
It hangs from my desk lamp;
Bright orange,
Trailing feathers,
A web.
A web of dreams.
A web made of many strands
Radiating outwards.
I am at the centre.
All my dreams
Begin and end
With me.
In my dreams
All things are possible.
Each strand leads to me,
Each strand runs from me,
Each strand is a thought.
That intersects
With other strands,
Other thoughts.
Just as my life
Touches other lives,
And other lives touch mine.
The geometry,
The perfect shaping, spacing,
The pattern,
Draw together and multiply
The integrity, the strength,
The meaning,
Relationships,
The few or many
Degrees of separation
Between each strand
Each thought
Each known thing
In my mind.
Whenever I’m stuck
I sit and stare at it
Hoping for a catch
And sooner or later
Something sticks.
The dreamcatcher is a gift
To me,
Inspired by a great King,
And I love them both.
[I thank you, Stephen Edwin.]

First Day Of Summer

The first day of summer

And the skies of blue

And clouds of white,

The sunny days

And balmy nights

Are somewhere else.

It’s raining.

A Cactus

Love is like a cactus plant

A thing of beauty

That will hurt you

If you get too close.

Someone I Didn’t Really Know Died

Someone I didn’t really know died

And I feel affected

In a way I didn’t expect.

We spoke a couple of years ago

At a party.

We got on really well,

Made each other laugh,

Found common ground,

Though I can’t remember

What we actually said.

It was the feeling I recall.

I felt happy that we’d spoken.

I think he felt happy too.

Our paths didn’t cross

After that day

So we didn’t get the chance

To know each other

Any better.

What’s strange now

Is the deep feeling of regret

That has settled on me,

Regret at not knowing

Someone I didn’t really know

A little more.

He had been

A friend of a friend

Up to then.

I’d like to think

He was a friend of mine

At the end.