Indifference pummelled,
brutal, unrelenting blows
raining down, breaching
ever-weakening defences.
Sudden sickening crack,
as of bone shattering.
Slumped in corner,
resistance gone,
towel thrown,
the broken man.
Indifference pummelled,
brutal, unrelenting blows
raining down, breaching
ever-weakening defences.
Sudden sickening crack,
as of bone shattering.
Slumped in corner,
resistance gone,
towel thrown,
the broken man.
I saw you fleetingly from corner of my eye, blushing
as though diffident, hesitant to be fully seen.
I inwardly yearned for you to break through
those barriers, to appear in panoramic splendour
~~~
Then, suddenly, you’re there – my breath is taken by
your multi-coloured arc, like a bejewelled necklace
weaving its path ‘cross sombre, rain-filled sky
Mercy’s sign, promising brighter things to come
~~~
Spectra of light through moisture droplets shine
and from each luminous hue, I hear eloquent lyrics.
Sounds that flash across the space between us, and
reverberate in the centre of my happy consciousness
~~~
Seven- coloured symphony of sensory perfection
Violet evoking kingliness, unspeakable majesty
Indigo, bright essence of Wisdom’s spirituality
Heavenly blue’s pavement bids me rise up higher
Invigorating green bursting with life and immortality
Sun-like yellow effusing free and boundless energy
Glowing orange celebrates warmth of loving heart
Bloody-red plummets desperately to depths of suffering.
~~~
Then as you sing your song, line upon glorious line
with ethereal melodies, and haunting harmonies
overly mindful of this ephemeral moment
I reach out open hand, as if to catch my rainbow
TRANSITION – what an ‘overworked’ word … methinks it could prove to be an excuse for instability, or even confusion, in some cases. I’ve heard it in so many contexts, it now makes me want to scream … I hear it from the mouths of preachers, politicians, journalists, football-managers, the ordinary bloke-in-the-street. Yes, okay, we’re in ‘transition’ – but does anyone know, and if so can they tell me, from what to what, from where to where.
With this in mind, please forgive me if in this brief, written transaction, I transgress into scepticism by transcribing my transitional thoughts concerning the transformational process through which I presently am being transfigured (or should that be transposed). A transcendent power, so it transpires, is committed to transferring me from where I am, to where I ought to be. This probably does not easily transliterate for too many of my readers, but ought to offer a degree of translucence regarding my ongoing transmutation.
I offer these words, therefore, with the utmost transparency, so that those who share in this transitory moment will be suitably justified in thinking that the writer is due to undergo a brain transplant in the near future. Whatever, I am totally transfixed by the thought that my transatlantic, transcontinental & transvestite friends are utterly confused by now, after such a terrible transmission of vocabulary, and may be requiring some translation – oh, not forgetting to mention my dear Catholic friends (with whom I have often debated the issue of transubstantiation)…
But ah, I hear the sound of footsteps. Men with white coats coming to transport me away, in their little green van, to the local lunatic asylum, where it is believed, my mind will transmigrate to higher things … helped by trance-inducing substances (sorry if that wasn’t trans !!)
God help those of you, who similarly are passing through one of the phases of transmogrification, whether utterly, strangely or grotesquely (as provided by the Oxford Dictionary definition)…I hope the experience is not too painful for you, and that you will survive these transient moments, without the need for a transfusion of any kind.
So, in bringing this ramble to it’s conclusion, on a slightly more serious note, whether you’re transitioning from one season to another, from one job to another, from one partner to another, from one hobby to another, from one church to another, from one political party to another, from one country to another, or whatever … it may be in order if, at this point, I encourage you to keep the ‘trans’ (Cross) before your eyes, as the hymn-writer rather solemnly puts it: