The Cursor and the Like

Photo by Dan Fraser

The Cursor hovers uncertain

over the Like

touch me said the Like

what are you waiting for

there are so many he’s thinking

if I like them all

will my likes mean anything

if I click on you he says to his Like

will that mean you are my favourite

what about the others 

oh touch me touch me

the Like pleads

but the Cursor hovers uncertain

what does it mean

should there be a Love button

Note: This nearly came out as a comment reading poems on my blog Reader a couple nights ago. It was getting too long so I wrote this – touch of humour? I try to add a comment to a Like because I know I much prefer receiving comments.

Rain in my western region

Photo by Dan Fraser

Reading from the I Ching

told me there was no rain

for my western region

I knew that but it didn’t say

I had lost the western region altogether

and the east had fled to the south

while the north was squeezing

the crown of my head

night and day

and the moon was out 

looking for its sun

The eyes of your dream

Photo by Dan Fraser

Can you measure the walls 

of your box

with the length of your imagination

can you compare the depth 

of your ocean 

to the eyes of your dream

the touch of your beginning

to the colour of your end

the crush of hows and whys

to the arms around your box

you are the answer to your question

you are the distance to yourself

Gone totally gone

Photo by Dan Fraser

How can you compare

the absence to the presence 

of that mysterious 

but unreliable light

that flickers on occasion

in certain dark and restless nights

with or without choosing

with or without pain

or the promise of joy

if only your faltering hand

could reach the irresistible flame

that came and then was gone

totally gone

The dream again

The sounds and images 

and thoughts

of another place and time

churn round and round

in the restless cage of my mind

I go there and come back

go there and come back

let me be here now


let me be here now

the dream again

The garden of your life

Photo by Dan Fraser

When you planted the new

in the garden of your life

where did you find

the seed of your beginning

did it come in a dream 

did it show you the colours 

the scent and the hope 

of your creation

did you feel the gentle touch

of your garden

returning the love in your hands

Shadows and names

If I spoke in the language

of the people of shadows 

and names

the silence would grow

 into the voice of the ocean

mountains and sky

eagles soar high

with their eyes on the ground

the wind gives no warning

in the empty mirror

I see a single flame 

with no shadow

Swift crow world

Photo by Dan Fraser

Walking in the forest

I have considered the language

of crows

they have so much to say

is there a course offered

in the very early morning

who could teach it

do they talk about us

a comment perhaps

observed in a corner

of swift crow world

Smile at the memory

Photo by Dan Fraser

So much can happen in a day

or a moment

a gesture 

a phrase that haunts

the call of crows in the forest

sunlight on leaves

skin touching softly

what did I not say

of the one thing that matters

blurring signposts

are those tears

why do I smile

at the memory