Peter Lilly: Poems

Listening to directions  From a drunk man, Whilst trying to read a map In the light of a half moon. Progress is slo w . Written in 2009.  Persistence in the key!

What becomes of us? Circling our ambitions in tentative pigeon steps, not awaiting permission but opportunity, which some take as the same thing. Anticipation takes our breath until we are light-headed, spinning, it repeats and repeats. I wish this circle was a spiral, but I recognise my tracks, our tracks in the flattened grass and compressed dirt. Our internal voices circle our potential like hungry vultures, waiting to pick the bones of what might have been, in the approval of regret. A Poem written as an encouragement for endurance. It's difficult to start new initiatives, to build something sustainable that is in the image of something greater than yourself, to live a Christlike life. Laying foundations feels like walking in circles. But these foundations are important and it is right that it takes time! For, to build without foundations is to build in ignorance, a fatalistic and pointless exercise in egotistical squan...

Oh two leaf tree. Did somebody leave you behind? Ever expectant of the fruit You’re desperate to produce, But The ground around you is only Littered with the brown leaves of former glory, Last year’s windfall; now fertilizer And a fractured birdhouse, housing damp. Oh two leaf tree. Did somebody take your branches? Shaping your shadow to fit the outline of a tired summer, Saving your limbs to thaw a bitter frost, So The sundial has lost its strength, Derelict greenhouse fills with rain, Forgotten firewood now dampens sparks, But you can drink of this cold and feed your new limbs.. and grow. Written in the winter of 2007.

Heavy weights on numb limbs; This sleep is to my head. Crying out to distant blisters Which wish they knew the meaning. Try to spell it out, It’s simple for some. Now lie down and rest in paradise, On a bed of broken glass. Ash trays full of smoking ban Still sit on every table. Only if they knew the time of day They would all be gone. You hated every moment distributing life to the lonely, Easing out of the womb With dishonest motivation. And this is the world you’re born into, Where only night feels like home. Stain the blue sky black So you no longer have to squint. Only in complete darkness Are there no shadows. Written, early June 2010.