Fallen Gold




What did you learn,
how did you use the gift of your life?

I learned how easily gold
slips through my fingers,
and how much despair
fallen gold creates.

But I learned something else too,
something about my heart and about love,
that love can make a new kind of gold
from my mistakes, a rare gold,
not found in heaven or on earth
but that dwells in man alone.

Light becomes darkness
and then it becomes light again,
but it’s not the same light as before,
it’s a new light, a light that has been tested
in the vale of life and has remained true,
true to man and true to God.



I’m impressionable,
everything affects me,
every look, every feeling,
every kindness,
every carelessness act,
my own and others.

By the end of the day
I’m dimpled like the page of
an old letterpress book,
then gradually in the night,
my flesh expands and
becomes smooth again,
the impressions lift off and
are stored in the basement
of my mind for later consideration
and I wake up to clean, a fresh page


I was watching
two hoverflies
early this morning,
they’d hang in the air
almost motionless,
then they’d engage
one another in a frenzy
for a few moments,
then separate
and hang again.


They were like my thoughts,
I would manage to still my mind
for a few moments then I’d be off,
worrying about why
I hadn’t written any poetry
or whether the courgette leaves
were going to starve the carrots of light.


Then it started to rain,
soft, summer rain
falling on the leaves
of the Ash tree above me.


That’s the thing about nature,
when it intervenes
it’s always beautiful, total,
inexplicable and right.



I sympathise with you,
married to a fool,
a loud obnoxious man,
filled with indignation
at what life has sent him
and still believing he has rights.

I thank you too,
even though I know you
have no choice in the matter
I thank you just the same,
for seeing through it all
and staying with me anyway.