LULLABY

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LULLABY

SLEEP MY SWEET ANGEL

AND IN YOUR SLUMBER

REMEMBER IT IS I

FOR WHOM YOU WAIT.

 

YOU LEFT EARLY FOR YOUR REST

AND I REMAINED ANXIOUS TO COMPLETE

THE TASK FOR WHICH I WAS CONSIGNED…

AND YOURS IS WELL DONE AND REPLETE.

 

WOULD I KNEW YOUR SWEET REFRAIN,

WHICH COULD YET CHARM ME TO JOIN,

BUT IT IS LOST AMONGST THE FALLING RAIN,

AND STILL I HAVE LINES YET TO COIN.

 

IN SLEEP YOUR VOICE STILL RINGS TRUE,

DESPITE THE DARKNESS OF THE HOUR,

I MURMUR THE THRENODY BACK TO YOU,

AND HEAR YOUR LAUGHTER THROUGH THE SHOWER.

 

I ONLY CHIME IN UNISON WITH YOUR TUNE,

I ONLY HOLD TIGHT TO YOUR LINGERING LOVE.

DALE ‘M’

 

 

WHERE LOVE TAKES YOU

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WHERE LOVE TAKES YOU

IT WAS ALWAYS THE GOAL TO LOVE COMPLETELY,

TO MOVE BEYOND THE WISTFUL YEARNING,

TO COMMIT WHOLE-HEARTEDLY TO ONE,

THE ONE AND ONLY, ONE.

 

AND SO I PRESSED, BODY AND SOUL,

EVERYTHING INTO THE UPLIFTING OVERTURE…

THE SOARING STRINGS BORE ME UP INTO THE SKY,

ICARUS TO THE LAST.

 

AND YOU DREW BACK YOUR WINGS,

JOINED ME IN THIS ADVENTURE,

AND YOU BID ME FLY HIGHER…

SO WE FLEW INTO THE SUN.

 

THIS IS THE POINT BEYOND ART,

YOU NEED WISTFULNESS TO MAKE ART,

BUT THE POET SATED SINGS NO MORE,

JUST CLINGS ON FOR DEAR LIFE.

 

AND THEN YOUR WINGS CATCH LIGHT,

AND YOU CRASH AND BURN…

AND YOU ARE ICARUS NOT ME,

I AM DAEDALUS… AND I FLY ON ALONE.

 

BUT I SEE YOU IN EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL,

AND MY HEARTS TEARS IN TO GOBBETS…

FRAGMENTS OF LOVE, SNIPPETS OF MEANING,

AND THE POETRY RETURNS.

 

BUT THE POETRY IS A FACSIMILE

OF THE HONEST TRUE LOVE,

NOTHING CAN REPLACE THAT FEELING,

YET STILL YOU CARRY ON…

LET’S JUST CARRY ON.

 

TO ALL MY FRIENDS HAVE A GREAT NEW YEAR, YOU DESERVE IT. WE ALL DESERVE IT.

DALE ‘M’

 

 

HOMESICK BLUES

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HOMESICK BLUES

NOWHERE IS HOME WITHOUT YOU,

LEFT BEREFT, LIKE A HAT WITHOUT A HEAD,

I WAS THE GLOSS AND BLUSTER,

YOU WERE THE BRICKS AND MORTAR…

THE RESILIENCE I ALWAYS LACKED

THE GLUE THAT HELD MY FLAKES

TOGETHER.

 

I YEARN FOR YOUR KISS,

YOUR ARMS, YOUR UNENDING CHARMS,

NEVER TO BE ALONE AGAINST THE WORLD,

BUT THAT’S ALL GONE NOW!

THE JOLT, THE SPARK ,

NOTHING IS HERE BUT YESTERDAY…

AND TOMORROW SWOONS,

LIKE AN UNTIED BALLOON.

 

DALE ‘M’

BUTTERMERE LAKE

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BUTTERMERE LAKE

IT CALLS ME FOR MY RETURN,

AND I WONDER IF SHE HOLDS,

THE REFLECTION OF MY LOVE,

I LEFT THERE ONCE BEFORE…

 

IT WAS A HAPPY SMILING FACE,

REMEMBER THAT WONDROUS WILY GRIN?

DO YOU STILL HOLD IT FIRM,

AS I DO IN MY MIND’S EYE?

 

I WOULD THAT I COULD GATHER IT UP

AND HOLD IT STILL WITHIN MY ARMS,

FOR THE CHERISHED CHARMS ARE LOST,

AND I AM NOW FORLORN…

 

I HAVE A SILHOUETTE PORTRAIT,

THAT SITS JUST BEHIND MY SOUL,

AND THERE SHE WHISPERS LOVINGLY,

BUT I WOULD LOVE TO OWN,

 

THAT LAST REFLECTION.

 

MEMORIES FLOOD IN.

DALE ‘M’

 

I STILL RECALL THE WONDROUS MOMENT BY ALEKSANDR PUSHKIN

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I still recall the wondrous moment:
When you appeared before my sight
As though a brief and fleeting omen,
Pure phantom in enchanting light.

In sorrow, when I felt unwell,
Caught in the bustle, in a daze,
I fell under your voice’s spell
And dreamt the features of your face.

Years passed and gales had dispelled
My former hopes, and in those days,
I lost your voice’s sacred spell,

The holy features of your face.
Detained in darkness, isolation,
My days began to drag in strife.
Without faith and inspiration,
Without tears, and love and life.

My soul attained its waking moment:
You re-appeared before my sight,
As though a brief and fleeting omen,
Pure phantom in enchanting light.

And now, my heart, with fascination,
Beats rapidly and finds revived
Devout faith and inspiration,
And tender tears and love and life.

 

PUSHKIN SAYS IT BETTER!

DALE ‘M’

ALL THINGS MUST PASS

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ALL THINGS MUST PASS

A JOURNEY WITHOUT INCIDENT,

APART FROM A MOANING BABY,

OR TWO PEOPLE TALKING IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE…

ANNOYING IN THAT YOU CANNOT UNDERSTAND,

BUT HAVE TO HEAR!

 

BUT YOU HAVE A SEAT,

AND THERE ARE NO DELAYS,

AND THE WINDOW SHEDS THE LANDSCAPE,

WITHOUT FOCUS OR INTENT.

 

THE MIST MELLOWS EDGES,

APART FROM THE HEADACHE,

WHICH RIPS AGAINST THE FRAYED EDGE

OF YOUR SENSIBILITY.

 

THE REALITY HAS SETTLED,

MONEY HAS TRICKLED THROUGH MY FINGERS

AND A NEW REALITY HAS TO BE FOUND,

I CANNOT BE THE MOURNER.

 

ALL ROLES ARE AVAILABLE,

EXCEPT THAT I CAN GET NO GRASP,

OF WHAT MY FUTURE SHOULD BE,

ALL AMBITION HAS DIED.

 

WHAT TO DO, WHAT TO DO,

THE TRACK RINGS ALONG,

SINGING THAT SAME OLD SONG,

SING ALONG, SING ALONG…

DALE ‘M’

 

STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING BY ROBERT FROST

 

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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

 

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

 

FEELING NOSTALGIC FOR SNOWY LANDSCAPES OF MACCLESFIELD.

DALE ‘M’

CREEP

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CREEP

Sneaking out the back with stealthy rubber soles,

Off-loading convention like an over-ripe afghan coat,

We ran off down the dark streets giggling like teenagers,

And into the pub, where time stood still – Freeze-frame.

 

All eyes turned upon us, pool cue poised mid shot…

We were the interlopers, outsiders… Aliens.

Aliens. That’s it! We could not have been stranger,

If we had jumped ship from a flying saucer.

 

You were tense, used to evoking this reaction,

I was blithe,amused by their incongruous stares,

I looked at you, with your yellow mohawk and slashed back cleavage,

Your parachute boots, unlaced and your harem pants…

 

I could guess that you were not the most staid client they’d seen,

but me? I was close-cropped squaddie type kitsch.

With camouflage khaki and Doctor Martin nine hole boots,

I was every right – wing locals wet dream ….Surely?

 

Nothing to see  here, except the dangling skull earring,

And the Anarchy t-shirt, maybe the red beret was camp…

Anyway the silence broke and we got served,

And we drunk a few beers before…

 

Running back to the theatre so as not to miss our lift,

And we arrived back as the play ended…

Our Drama coach, who had a leading role,

Asked us what we thought of the play?

“You were amazing, especially in the 2nd half…”

The look she gave us… She knew, Oh yes she knew,

We’d deserted her.

CREEPS!

 

Dedicated to my friend Jenny, where ever she might be now.

DALE M

PULLED TO BITS

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PULLED TO BITS

FORGOTTEN MOMENTS OF PURE BLISS,

A SNOWY SATURDAY MORNING…

WAITING FOR A ROOM TO BE FREE.

WE SAT IN A CAFE, CHOCOLATE AND CAKE,

LOOKING OUT ACROSS THE BIG FLAKES FALLING…

KNOWING THAT THIS MOMENT WOULD COST,

WEEKS APART, INTERMINABLE LONGING.

 

AND THOSE FEW SPARE HOURS,

A JEWEL IN THE DESERT,

AFTER SO MANY STOLEN KISSES…

LIKE TWO TEENAGERS AGAIN,

THIS THE FIRST IN A BED.

WE GAVE GIFTS AND CALLED IT CHRISTMAS,

BUT KNEW THE PAUCITY OF THE HOLIDAY.

 

AND AFTER YOU DROPPED ME OFF,

TWO STREETS AWAY…

AND MY HEART SANK TO MY BOOTS,

AND MY HEAD FLIPPED, A TICK CONSTANT,

LIKE A SPASM, A TOURETTE’S TIC…

I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE!

 

NINE YEARS AGO TODAY,

AND THE OUTCOME WAS PERFECT,

ALL YOUR FUTURE LIFE WAS SHARED,

BATHED IN MY LOVE…

AND I BATHED IN YOU,

UNTIL THAT NIGHT…

THAT PULLED ME TO BITS.

DALE ‘M’