Edward Clapham Poems

A thousand miles is not as far as these few
inches between us, here as we sit in quiet conversation.
Simple friendship is not enough, though it should be,
when I am endlessly fascinated by your unfolding nature.
...

There’s a me and a clone of me and if we meet,
Then how do we know which me is me and which
The other; and if I think I am me then am
I the other me, or is he someone else?
...

Where do words come from?
In moments of exhilaration or despair
They come unbidden, sometimes tumbling,
Sometimes meandering, making their uninvited way,
...

You are my moon by night: silvering my dreaming sleep,
Limelighting my fond imaginings and phantom hopes.
You are my sun by day: gilding my wakened thoughts,
Burnishing my desires and heartfelt yearnings.
...

I learnt from Death something of Life today, thanks to you
though you didn’t know it and never will.
...

Blossoms virginal in the evening light;
night moistured air presses heavy against the skin.
Caressing; arousing.
...

Assumptions: cunning little devils, always sneaking up and
tripping up the clearest thought or the wisest head;
insinuating themselves into cherished beliefs, firm opinions
and the well worn habits of mind and body.
...

In Flanders fields the poppies grow;
Their roots reach down to twine amongst the bones,
The mouldering bones.
...

I want you to hear the clarion call,
The watchman heralding the dawn;
A morning prayer to love.
...

Damn you Madam

There is a seductiveness to logical thinking, reducing
Emotion to a sideline of existence; leaving
...