Richard Macwilliam » As I walked home

Well, the mountains are calling me home

admin — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 11:00:51 +0000

Well, the mountains are in the distance, calling me home,
And the sun, and the sea, and the wind;
And my ashes will be scattered in the gloom,
And everything is said and gone.

There’s a road ahead

admin — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 10:52:26 +0000

There’s a road ahead and a thousand tomorrows;
There’s sunlight and wind, and too many adventures to count:
And always, in the air, a Dream.
The Future calls and it shouts out Hope,
The horizons stretch, touching sea and sky,
The stars rest in the heavens, and mist washes the ground.
Forwards! With excitement,
Onwards! With joy,
Forever! In love.
Hold to the moments and touch your eternity,
Grace the world with your delight,
Smile into the rain with your learnéd wisdom.

Life is for the dreamers, and no one can hold us back;
A dream breaks stone, and tumbles down walls:
We are ourselves stronger than we can ever realise
And touched by the spirit of God.

Slitherer

admin — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 10:36:45 +0000

Friends with everyone,
Friends with no one,
A slitherer glad-handing his life through career;
The buttered cheeks and easy eye Welcoming
Whilst the knife hides sheathed.

Cabals are his environ,
Alliances and deals the weights he plays with,
The future a longed-for totem atop the pole.

Half-truths in the darkness are his speciality:
But even in light there’s no shadow, no side to be seen.

You cannot compete,
Not in this domain:
It’s almost an illness that saps your soul.

Power feeds on itself and wants more,
Care is consumed by care,
The moments are a rush to nothingness.

Far better to fish,
Or watch the stars,
Or sleep on the beach;
And yet …
Tone down the values,
Create a purpose greater than the man,
Put fire and joy in his belly
And he’s a life worth living.

A scheming manipulator, after power for its own sake. And yet – with different values, with a purpose greater than his selfish purpose, with fire and joy in his heart – this man has the basic tools to live a life worth living. Just as we all have a bunch of skills and abilities that we could turn to positive use.

Beneath each star

admin — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 10:05:37 +0000

Beneath each star lies a Hope,
And each Hope belongs to a person -
And all our Hopes together make our Future.
Look to the stars and count our Dreams;
Sense the night air and be still within;
Travel on the silence to the heavens.
No man or woman can hold you:
You are yourself, and must go your own way:
Take the light from above, and the earth from below,
And travel as you will.

May 2008

Tony

admin — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 09:48:33 +0000

Tony’s lost in a world of now,
Pulling back the curtains from his busy life in horror:
Clarity is for the moment and the place,
Wisdom holds to the insights of the known,
Depth is for tomorrow.
Superficial success has marked his face;
Turmoil clings to stasis;
The horizons stretch and are ignored.
In his rational madness Tony spreads out plans,
Plots his course,
Burns off fires for tomorrow.
Yet each tomorrow never comes:
It is but a today;
Tony hasn’t noticed.
The mountains have deep spirits,
The rivers call to the moon,
Dogs howl, and the wind barely wakes -
Tony, blind in his life, is trapped in his life.
Touch the seas and whisper to the stars,
Walk in silence to the Unknown:
Pray.
It’s but a small step.

Busy, busy, busy. A frantic life going nowhere.

Holly

admin — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 09:33:12 +0000

Holly lives in a world of intrigue,
Glued to a mobile phone:
Her harsh voice carries easy certainties and authority,
The simple laws of the street.
She’s tough;
Hard-bitten;
Seen it all,
A little terrier snapping and yowling at life,
Self-consciously proud of its tiny strength.
Life, though, isn’t amused,
Throws stones at her box,
Keeps knocking her down.
She struggles to make the connections,
Doesn’t like cause and effect,
Prefers to go her own way
Living the Dream of Doing What She Wants.
Well versed in blame-shifting,
Adept at missing the point,
Holly hunches over her mobile,
Tuning in to the questions Life asks.

June 2008

Lost in the here and now, and the soap opera of her own life and other people’s lives

Colin

admin — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 11:50:55 +0000

Colin sits in a room of certainty,
Surrounded by the things he loves -
Order, rationality, microscopes and beer.
The days are consistent, problems unremarkable,
Relationships steady and narrow.
There’s a girlfriend (works in a library),
Folk songs at the pub,
A cosy circle of friends to discuss minutia.
Nothing disturbs his world -
Earthquakes and starvation,
Wars and disease,
Tragedy and conflagration,
He meets it all with understated consideration.
There’s more insight than you might imagine,
But no curiosity beyond his little kingdom:
Safe in his box, rejecting risk, he dabbles in detail,
Lets his mind soar in the confines of the irrational,
Builds a wall around his reality through which he peers.
But it’s all an illusion;
Mental titillation:
He scurries back to the earth and the real,
Embracing the known.

May 2008

Colin’s a rational man, maybe an archaeologist or a park ranger, maybe a beard, loves Dungeons and Dragons, beer, folk-song – well, you get the picture.

Do you see this star?

admin — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 10:40:10 +0000

This star is Hope,
And the welcoming of the future.
Do you see this star?
See how it shines in the night?
All our tomorrows are in our Hopes,
And all our dreams the distance we must travel.
Live well;
Dream well;
Hope for a greater You,
And aim your Spirit for that star.

The real kids

admin — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 08:32:23 +0000

Janine:
Everything went bad -
She had a step-dad.
Now the days are spent in misery and smiles,
Drink to her face,
Smoke in her lungs,
A collection of painful memories paraded before a cruel judge,
Herself,
Who sentences Life to oblivion.

Stu -
Mum’s dead,
Did in his head.
Took a ride on the comfort train,
Smokes weed,
Has a habit to feed.
Behind him stalk figures from his mind;
Within him is a crumbling;
In front is a land without hope.
One day things will get violent,
A latch will click,
A one-way ticket down the ride of despair.

Dave -
Mum drinks,
Life stinks.
He doesn’t bring friends home,
Too dodgy,
You can never tell what state she’ll be in.
At first he used to care – for her -
The toddler on his own,
The young child,
The school kid,
But something hardened so he could cope
And now he’s in volatile denial,
Pain turned outwards,
Anger in his step.
Always on the streets,
Sometimes he’ll beat her:
Funny how foundations are built.

Victoria –
Dad’s not well,
Life is hell.
Mum left for another man,
Dad does the best he can
But cries himself to sleep.
Wherever he is,
Dad’s not at home,
And Vicky worries herself thin.
Now she plays Mum,
Keeps him at arm’s length,
Looks after her two younger sisters.
Fear of Social Services prevents her from speaking;
Soon it’ll all turn inwards and she’ll collapse,
Another future build on the ruins of the past:
She does right to be scared.

Kylie has no Mum,
And that’s not fun.
Late at night on the dark streets she plays on her own,
Searches for company,
Knocks on doors.
Mum lost interest,
Had her own agenda,
Was never around,
And so Kylie wanders, lost in life,
Dark eyes anxious,
Learning to survive.
She has no expectations;
Sees relationships as futile;
Has been groomed for failure and a diet of micro-concerns in a shallow pool.

Britain is a pretty f***ed-up place to live in. There are a LOT of dysfunctional families left behind in our winner-takes-all, what’s-community? culture, and a lot of damaged kids.

Sylvia

admin — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 08:24:28 +0000

Sylvia lives each day -
It’s the best she can do.
Life has no meaning
And the long days stretch ahead:
Her illness holds her in its grip,
Framing her existence,
Creating a lens of oblivion in the Now
Which she hasn’t the heart to See.
Don’t ask her about her dreams:
You’ll start the tears.
Don’t point to all your tomorrows:
She has none.
This is moments on the edge,
Lapped by insanity and despair,
Facing a lingering death.
Sylvia, if you have the strength then pray;
And if not, in your battle of the soul and mind
Give in, and be open, and let a peace descend.

A poem about an ill woman.