In an ivy clad fortress
Fallen render reveals the outline of a bird.
Drawn in pink plaster,
Master of mortar.
Trapped in the brick.
Safe though from this gale that stirs us up today.
It sits looking East
Towards the sea.

There the clatter and hum of sail bells
On Camberly Sands renders seagulls quiet
Devoid of a landing platform and
Lost for words.

Then crows
Cry collaboration.
A nation of black wings against
A clear sky.
Like solid drums unbeaten
By time and weather.

I'm thinking of the edge
The words you so cut to form
The critical eye that captured every detail
I marveled at the brilliance
of the most mundane
you raised to glory
One
. . . two
. . . . . . three
I relish the dark
secure in my isolation
I am left to my own
Godly imagination
. . . my magic carpet that takes me back into my past
to those moments good and bad , sweet and sour ,
etched into history , words chiseled into stone

The most isolated city in the world
Only fitting you would plant your roots and thrive
. . . one
. . . . . . two
. . . . . . . . . three

I thought that we were lifelong mates.
We built sand castles in the air
We rode the Ferris Wheel up high
And looked down on the park below.
We raced the horses on the carousel
And it was always you who won.
I counted days between playdates.

We had so many things alike-
Ideas, dreams and silly games,
I never thought an end would come-
That you, with no farewell, would go
And leave me in the park alone.
You cannot have a tug-of-war
With no one on the other end.

The music lost some of it’s bounce
The horses didn’t prance so high
I never really understood
If it was something I did wrong
Or some other outside force
Had pulled on you to walk away
And leave me in the park alone.

Then suddenly you reappeared
Brand new hair style, altered name.
I knew at once that it was you
And ran to fetch the ball and jacks.
But after just a dozen games
You whispered  “time to go again
And this time with no coming back."

I stood forlorn and watched you leave.
The other kids were saddened too
But I, who walked-the-dog with you,
Was torn in places I thought safe.
I loved you like a special friend.
Your leaving was a kind of death.
I’m orphaned now in painful ways.

I thought a year or maybe two
Of growing up and moving on
Would cure the hollow space you left-
And to a small extent it did.
But every time I pass the park
And hear the carousel begin
I’m taken back to those good times
And I cannot but cry again.
                                                  ljm

There's a quiet murmuration
Of figments of my imagination
Dreams and broken notions
Feelings and emotions
Swirling and rearranging
Into ever-changing shapes in my mind

There are absent gods and howling dogs
And the broken backs of the poor
While jugglers perform tricks with wealth
As nobody seems to care anymore
Amidst marching boots as children shoot
And hope lies dead on the floor

There seems to be a ghost somewhere
Wandering high in purple mountains
And low in deep green valleys
And this roaming soul may well be
A kind of long lost truth
Inside my hidden mind

                               By Phil Roberts