The Mystery of Love; for Olly Michael Lancaster

IMG_6336-1-2

I wrote this poem for my friend Mike Hopkinson’s little grandson Olly,

who will be three at the end of August

*

I am Olly Michael Lancaster, a special little lad

I love my brother Ryan, and I love my Mum and Dad

I love my funny Grandad, and I love my Nanna Sue

And we all love each other, like all happy families do

I like a little tickle, and a cuddle, and a rub

I like the feel of water when I’m floating in the tub

I like to giggle in the car when Grandad’s house is near

And I like it when you brush my face, and when you stroke my ear

I know you by your kindness, and I know you by your smell

I know you when you’re far away, and when you’re near as well

I know you by the way your pattern weaves within my heart

And I know that we are children who can only know in part

Oh, show me all the colours of the earth and sea and sky

Show me bright and pretty lights, and all the birds that fly

Show me shining mirrors that reflect my smiling face

And I shall show a mystery, and you shall see my grace

Oh, tell me tales of happiness, and joy, and fairy lands

Tell me funny nursery rhymes, and hold my little hands

Tell me all the stories that your Mum and Granny heard

And tell me all the wisdom of the world within a word

Oh, teach me about flowers, about butterflies, and bees

Teach me how the blossoms change to fruit upon the trees

Teach me of the moon and stars that twinkle high above

And I shall teach you with my life the secret lore of love

For I am yours, and you are mine, and all of us are one

I am the light in darkness and the shadow of the sun

I come to show and tell and teach the truth the ancients knew

I am Olly Michael Lancaster, and I love you

*

© Gail Foster 2016

Advertisements

Mortality in Flight

IMG_0680 - Copy-01 - Copy

for him

*

wafts of smoke and apples

custard, autumn, damp, decay

forgotten roses over blown

black berries blet away

rubber hot on tarmac

methane, lactose, chips and fires

smears of leaves of shedding trees

made ghosts beneath his tyres

the thrust, the thrill, the shuddering

sensation of vibration

illegal speed, adrenaline

such dangerous elation

accelerating recklessness

in swerve, in weave, in chase

catching breath and missing beats

defying time and space

the fear of death, of love, of life

a shadow’s blink, a distant call

my lover has a nose for speed

and I am in my lover’s thrall

what madness is this motorbike

this dark and risky wild delight

unworldly joy, insanity

mortality in flight

*

by Gail

The Unbearable Brightness of Beauty

Beauty

*

Beauty, your colours

Wash the eye with paint and pain

In rainbow prisms

*

Beauty, your music

Astounds the ear to silence

In cadenced rhythm

*

Beauty, your raw touch

Stirs the flesh to birth and death

In passion driven

*

Beauty, your deep scent

Calls forth sudden memory

In flash unbidden

*

Beauty, your rich taste

Licks the tongue to wild delight

In manna given

*

Beauty, your glory

Ripples water, shatters stones

In revelation

*

by Gail