Michael Shepherd Poems

They've been at
my stats!

it's taken them weeks,
...

Whatever that you think you lack – give that! ’ –
this saying, heard, lodged in my mind a space;
like seed that hides in earth – yet not inert:
its hidden clock an instrument of grace;
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A poem is joined to everything,
hangs by a thought;

a poet is joined to everything,
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Their grandchild’s silken first hair
brushed with tender love;
their own hair, grey or white or gone;
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Yes yes.. I’ve not forgotten that:
the presence of the great –

when destiny has brought you
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She has… had… (which
is the more appropriate word
for those who live on so lively
in one’s human memory? …)
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‘Oh, how I miss her…; and him…; and him; and her…’
a pause; a sadness; a moist eye; a tear…
…and as you age, the list grows longer
until you wonder why you’re not
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When did you last turn the pages
of a book of poems as if it were a novel?

and how could a Poet Laureate ‘rejoice’-
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There is, it’s said, a state of joyful death,
known to the wise; and this, more realised
than that cessation of our mortal breath
beyond experience; only surmised;
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It’s said that universal single mind,
as in a flash it flowers in our individual mind,
hastens first in two directions: polar opposites,
and then and thus, duality..
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