Directions

After yesterday's little diversion, back to the poems for a bit with this. It has a strange feel to it and I will just allow you to make up your own mind about this.

As you can see, some poems take an age to come forth from the recesses of the mind to be placed on the page. This was one of them...




Directions 15 Sep 96, 22 Sep 97, 02 May 03

In
And out
and round about
Talk
And sing
And scream and shout

Where are you going?
Where have you come from?

In:
The dark times
When you don't think
The fun times
Loaded with drugs and drink

Out:
The light times
When thought was all
But talking to you
Was like talking to a wall

Round about:
Those in-between times
When you and I came
To the point when we
Realised we were really the same

Where am I going?
Where am I coming from?

In:
I cannot see
Closed windows, closed doors
Drawn curtains reinforcing
The shadows across the floors

Out:
Sight begins to grow
Light spreads across my mind
Footsteps across the land
Goddess knows what I shall find

Round about:
I never knew
I still don't know
The path I need to take
The way I really ought to go

Where are we going?
Where have we all come from?

In:
The light blinds our eyes
In searing, coruscating,
Rainbow intense, searchlight
Torn from the sun

Out:
All eyes open
Eyelids protesting
The unexpected vistas
Shake our understanding

Round about:
The path now illumined
Marked with fire and with crystal
One foot before another
We walk into the future





This quote seems to be really appropriate to this poem...

"Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures." Henry Ward Beecher

...I wonder how much of me I am painting here.