David Lacey Poems

As I sit here now
In the throne of my becoming
Numb with cold
And old with age.
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Watch the river pass on by
Listen as the children cry
The dream has crumbled
Tumbling down the dream has crumbled
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The trees are stacked in cathedral contortions
I face the sun in setting.
The talisman evolves itself
Blossoms in the wildest shade
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Awaiting the friend I love the most
The ghost of hosts I love the most

An architect of grand design
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First sight – a white room warming
New life – the smell of morning
Fresh and rosy fingered dawn
Comes with blackbirds swarming
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Outside a sky of blue is fading in and out of grey
Inside a crimson sky is dawning all throughout the day.

The senses numbed as defences succumb
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The thunder god is roaring
The earth our mother swelling
Her emotion surely soaring
What story is she telling?
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A candlelit smoke
Upon the river boat,
Canal rats for the weekend.
Strange days,
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Always away to india to find themselves,
What is it they wish to find?
The buddha nature of the Ganjes flowing?
The secret of a perfect mind.
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The nights are growing short once more
As Autumn opens Winters door
And Summer sleeping beauty casts
Into the web of woven pasts
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