Tadasana

Tadasana

Spread your fingers wide, arms raised

towards the sky, like the sun

is pulling you to new heights,

to open spaces now that your hands

are no longer wrapped tight around your body

with impossibilities repeating.

Meet your feelings as peace doves,

treat their wounds, gather up their spilled blood.

Let the daylight soak into the scars on your exposed skin,

breathe in to your love coming home.

Extinction with an Open Fist

Extinction with an Open Fist

A butterfly, landing on your upturned palm

seeks trust in the warmth of your skin

and a place to rest, to shelter

in the spring days that still bring winter chills.

For the minute she sits in your hand

could be years in her life span

and yet she chose you, saw something

in the blueness of your eyes

that she wanted to be closer to.

Maybe it reminded her of the sky,

where her blessed wings allow her

to spend her time;

except you’re jealous of her freedom,

her ability to fly

and whilst you didn’t stop her leaving,

instead you took the fingers from your other hand

and in childish fascination

slowly plucked her legs off one by one.

Humanity’s twisted appreciation

for the wild creatures, who give us love

that we just maim until they’re gone.

To The Pilot Who Didn’t Follow The Flight Plan

To The Pilot Who Didn’t Follow The Flight Plan

Too many of us grow up and forget how to play,

become lazy in settling for the mundane

Monday to Friday. We convince ourselves

to stay in the steady job, the still mildly satisfying

but faded relationship, semi-detached house, because we signed a contract,

we made a commitment, we think of the money

and material we’d lose or gain and weigh our options accordingly,

decide what’s less risky at the risk of wasting our life. Dig our heels in

till we’re all stood just the same – at the alter, in line at the lunch queue, school pick ups

in the playground, all ignoring the sound

that pounds at our guts. You’ve learned

to block it out, it’s started to learn to shut up.

I’m not saying we all need to be Peter Pan

but the boy had a point. To live true to ourselves

doesn’t mean we all remember how to fly; but I bet

you don’t even jump.

I bet you don’t even try.

Love Made Easy

Love Made Easy

You can take my time, tie it to the bed. Spread apart the seconds and divide the minutes into drawn out mouths and slow talk.

You can have me because here I am free. I can flower or I can plant myself in dirt but you always leave out a teaspoon of sugar water. Like a glass of milk and a mince pie for Father Christmas and never forgetting the carrot for Rudolph. You always believe in me.

You brought me pancakes in bed and it meant something.

I read you like a slow digestion, savoured and not greedy, burning off the excess punctuation.

(I don’t care about bad spellings, just give me the words.)

Your devotion on my black tar days; the non-linear nature of all things when done right.

What we expect is only adventure.

James Brown

James Brown

Barefoot, bold feet feeling out the dance floor

for the first song at the wedding between your body and you.

Bravely finding what fits

so yell if you need to, scream at the ways you were burgled.

Sometimes it’s not so easy to forget yesterday

or the fear that stays buried under fingernails;

but your self has always belonged in these bones

and brand new cells will shed old skin

to show the warrior you became,

battle-scarred, the sun senses the beginnings of a smile

and bathes in her yellow freedom.

Animal, Vegetable, Mineral

Animal, Vegetable, Mineral

I am the hunted,

scent carries on the wind, tastes

of a three course meal

on the tongue,

we meet at the waterhole

to savour the other use for these lips,

preparing for the chase with palate cleanser

they would think we are but grazing creatures

but this prolonged gaze is sizing up sinews, how they execute

movements with the bones,

as nature meets wild beast

my flesh is the feast

upon which you will later feed,

with sadistic grip of incisors,

pinned neck to Savannah dust,

coats collide in frantic lust

as to evolution’s displeasure

I plead guilty.

Taste of Heaven

Taste of Heaven

Don’t kid yourself,

this barely ruffled my feathers,

my faith belongs

to the way the wind

strokes between my open wings

with nerves left trembling,

but sometimes even wild things

rest for a while

and still the world

has ample love to go around.

All creatures adapt to the changing seasons

and these sharp claws

would be constrained

by an existence in captivity,

a birds eye view is only bestowed

to those blessed to be free

and I was born an untamed spirit

touching everything

and nobody.