This is my garden

I stand at the top of my garden. A patch of golden straw at my feet and the spade in my hand.

I feel the familiar worn wood of the handle and smile for a moment.

This is my garden. I know it well. Every nook and cranny.

And it knows me well too. Every pathway and tussock has felt my footstep.

Every border lovingly tended.

The sound of the stream and many moments spent in relaxation and sunlit meditation.

Many hours spent in toil and satisfying sweat. Crafting the landscape.

So this is my garden. I'm enjoying the view.

I stand at the top on this golden patch of straw.

The garden I know so well . The colours the smell .

I don't know what lies ahead, when it's time to leave . I don't know that there will be another garden like this one.

But there will be a place where I will leave my mark just like before and I know that I have the tools and more importantly the faith to do the job.

Joe Morriss

October 2017

Arabian nights

A fleeting glance

Caught in the mirror. Movement stilled and a faint glimmer

Of light. Deep in the night

I trace the lines which spell no name

Describe no place but all we ever were

Is there in technicolour detail

I didn't forget

One

Single

Thought

Deep in the night hours

A gentle breath sustains me

All that restrains is left loose and scattered

Everyday tasks await the dawn and for now

All is calm

All that we had was ours

I never can deny the face in the mirror

Eyes that must be looked at

A mouth which must speak

A path through the desert

A myth of recollection

I trace those lines again

To be sure nothing was missed

They tell the same story

Over and again

Do you think along the same lines?

Do you ever tell yourself the story of your life

In the night?

Do you call out for company

Do you long for a wild path midst desert and ocean

Fall into a trance

Glance in the mirror

Trace the lines behind the glimmer

Of light

Deep in the night

Arabian night.

Crossing that bridge

Turgid water and the spume over rocks flies face up to the sun, sparkling in droplets into the verdant banks

My thoughts race and I follow the stream , ankle deep the cold numbing my sense of touch. Feeling Rock bottom feeling the rush.

The stream is trout deep and dappled by the shingle . It crawls to its edge to lap gently . My pace slows and I feel the tug of the still eager current.

Skin tingles. The shadows mingle . The canopy above filters sunlit  chlorophyll. And I'm at peace. Thoughts stillled

Stones disturb the flow and give voice to the water which fills, the silence. I collect my muse and give voice. My heart spills over the gurgling rills.

The bridge is reached and reaches the span.

Only a whisper is heard in the trees as the surface of the stream responds to a soft breeze. I breathe.

A place to stop. To think . To express. To move on from here. Leave the current and the winding course of imagination and find solid ground.

Leaving

The wind whips up from the valley floor

And more leaves fall

More than before

I was never this happy or lost

Not since the cherry blossom fell

And I counted each flower as if to tell

How long the spring would last

Then I saw you

As if the whole of nature were a door

Don't leave me to the chill wind

And fallen leaves

Let me see your smiling eyes once more.

Joe August 2017

Cornflower

I wondered what it would be like to wear you with pride

Buttoned close over my heart

With all the others

Ready and blue

To tell of true love

Swaying amid the grasses

The theme of every song

To know love and to keep love

Chase with abandon

Find with purpose

Emblem of the eternal gift

Waking to the dream

Whispering at the stream.

Joe August 2017

Building friendship

Friendship is unfinished business

Some build their castle and keep building

Some of us got caught in the rubble;

Of collapse and trouble.

Others will reach for the sky

And believe every lie.

Some of us just Burst the bubble.

The friendship of fools is a gold rush

A prospecting

Collecting a coiterie

A menagerie of well wishers and prospective partners.

Eggs in one basket are soon dropped and broken.

I hang on to every word spoken

Look for an opening and hope beyond hoping.

Rejected yet again or maybe even simply ignored. Yes the friendship of fools leaves your best intentions floored.

Don't close the door , just yet.

Room for one more, you bet.

True friendship began when I stopped making a plan.

Look around;

What you see is what you get.

Joe Morriss, storefield northants, 5.8.2017

Golden Leaves - all hallows eve

Golden Leaves - all hallows eve

These golden leaves
On all the trees
Make me wonder
If we'll ever see
The Kingdom come
And then we'll run
With golden crowns into the sun.

The gentle breeze
That stirs those leaves
Soothes my mind and memories
Of things we've done
And all the fun
We had while tales around us spun

This is the eve
Of Saints' reprieve
Before their bright eternity
All pain has gone
With God the son
As Christ the risen saviour comes.