Autumn Clean

For days I’ve caked my face with no make-up,

nor dried my hair with gusty blow.

I’ve not set forth in world’s jungle with bayonet lipstick,

I’ve let lianas grow.

I’ve invited light in, with a naked face.

Finished sentences, allowed time to think.

I’ve let children wander, rise above balloons of their fears,

and drift back with or without answers.

No urgency there.

I bask in the pleasure

of dayfall, dawn briskness.

Cooler temperatures make mountains clear

so inspiring

we always believe we can start afresh.

For Days Now, Mr. Bowie

Space Oddity Album Cover 1.

For days now Mr. Bowie

has withered my poetic vine.

He absorbs all thought, each molecule

of passion.

So dreams turn monotonal

and pastel-grey wins mornings.

Twelve labours turn to twenty,

each step backbreaking toil.

Ears hum with his songs, not mine.

(So easy to find solace

when others say it better.)

Tempted – oh, yes! – to stop searching

for the word forever lost, crooked, faulty…

For just one minute I stopped upon a rock

with Sisyphus

lost in contemplation

of the melody of life.

Hunky Dory Album Cover

But tell me, Mr. Bowie,

you who have known sorrow

– and great joy too, no doubt –

what do you know of my heart?

How can you show in my place

where fear fell  away,

out glistened unfettered soul beneath?

You cannot speak for me

so haunt no more my mind and senses.

Leave me to find my own laborious words.

 

Despite the pictures and the name-dropping, this poem is not really about David Bowie at all, although you know that I am a fan.  It’s about writing, finding words to describe your experiences, finding your own voice, inspiration: all the bees that are currently flying around in my bonnet.  Buzz over to the dVerse Poets Pub today, where they have Open Link Night.