Tony Jolley Poems

Lost.
That's the word to describe it.
Not the only one perhaps,
Might not even be the best,
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'Yellow. … Little yellow hands', you said.

Geography of rivers of love
Flowing through palm plains
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Sunday 07.30
Felt like 05.30, frankly:
More a case of over-indulgence than overtired;
But most of all it felt like
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How long, O Lord,
How long?

How long before
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Will I go singing: looking ahead?
Will I go mourning: looking back instead?

Looking back at the mays and the might have beens;
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Dust dances but on borrowed time
To some unfathomable, divine design
‘In his image’, we are told, ‘a trinity’:
Body, soul and spirit: me.
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You say: “I love you”,
And you do:
To the uttermost limits of yourself and of all eternities.
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…And God saw that it was good…
But perhaps it could be better,
So like any a craftsman worth his salt
On his ‘day off’ he was tempted to tinker……
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An Espace with space to spare
Skidded and skitted slowly
Round our snow-cosseted corner,
Retreating from view.
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No need of a ‘cru’: grand or otherwise –
The wine of ‘nous’ is simply sublime:
Vines grown in groves of tenderness and grace
Upon the softer incline of our lives.
...