Edward Clapham Poems

My place

There also is my place, where I explore my understanding
Of words that are said and thoughts revealed, interpretations made;
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What is truth

What is truth? asked the patient;
Is it the cold (words of)
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We do not choose love, though it may seem that way
in the ceaseless dance of man with woman,
when hot fires urge us to approach and flirt and
hope it leads to more exciting things.
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It is as though I had never loved before, loving you;
My heart bound and sealed to your care:
The bright morning wakes me and I think of you,
Nervously, in anticipation of that first hello.
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Move on, they say to me, move on;
But they don't give easy directions and where do I go?
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Mindfulness
Mindfulness is being in the moment, with the past
A dim memorial and the future ripe anticipation;
Without investment of self in uncertainty and "when I…",
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It’s OK to be sad, for then happiness is given its proper perspective;
although it might not seem that way right now, when up feels only
a bit less down.
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They say distance lends enchantment and true love
weathers all seasons; but, sometimes I wonder
whether the distance becomes obscured by changing
winds and billowing clouds.
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I do not like this growing old; no, not one bit.
I much prefer how things were when I was
Younger, say 40 or 50 at a pinch.
Back then, things worked and moved
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Damn you Madam

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