Sat. Sitting. Still.

Sat here,
Right here,
Once in the snow
And thought about
That dismissive message of yours.

Sitting here again.
Thinking again.
Again.
A gain?
No.
A loss.
Still a loss.
Still at a loss
To understand.

poem by Tony Jolley
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Fire on Your Finger

Fire on your finger,
Fire in your eye,
Fire in your spirit,
Fire that won’t die.

Fire in the bare bones of being,
Fire to uphold what’s right,
Fire in the heart of darkness,
Fire to fuel Love’s light.

Fire to burn but not consume,
Fire to learn and not assume,
Fire to live and give living room,
Fire to love and sing her tune.

poem by Tony Jolley
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Against the Weave

The Crack of Dawn
Rent the sky’s heavy grey winter greatcoat
From seam to boring seam,
Tore it the hard way:
Against the weave,
For all the world as if
God were revisiting His moment
Of Temple-curtain-tearing violence.

Now, as then,
Few people pondered
The sight or its significance
As day drilled down,
Linear and bright,
Upon the quick and the dead alike.

The Heavens opened
And for once it wasn’t rain
But light, streaming like stair-rods,
Breaking all the Torah

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poem by Tony Jolley
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Battle Lines

We got more poetry than we bargained for:
Poetry as per the programme;
Poetry under the Plane trees;
Poetry conjuring other places,
Other times,
Other insights
Through other eyes.

Yes, all that and more
As the soft, stone façade
Glowed the warm jaune-crème
Of a quiet understanding
Borne of generations of learning,
And, en face,
Upstart acres of glass
Glowered back their pretensions
With an assurance
Only the arrogance of youth may afford.

Between these battle lines,

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poem by Tony Jolley
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How the Moments Come

Strange.
Strange how the moments come;
Those moments upon which one’s world turns.

Some seeming insignificances - pure coincidences:
Chance at its most mercurial
Dealing hands which break the bank or bust,
Or less a case of ‘Lady Luck’
Than life’s ‘Savings & Loans’
Finally coming good for work-weary bones.

All moments could be of the former form
Or just as likely the latter,
Or maybe ‘fate’ or the finger of God
Seeking a dividend on his investment divine.

So where do you and I stand on probability and providence…?

Me? Well, I wouldn’t bet against ‘chance’ –
Let’s face it, it’s an odds-on favourite!

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poem by Tony Jolley
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