POEM ~ Moonlight ~ 15 Jan 2019

Moonlight

Waves crack onto the beach like a whip
where no wind blows in the frozen night
with a golden Moon rising over hills
reflecting black water in shadowed light 

A dinghy glides in with splash of oars
a distant sliding onto sand
waves crash against wood
see dark silhouettes of a band

Concern begins to rise within
my old friend told me this would come
I did not understand the meaning
but could now feel that time was a drum

I begin to run toward the house
heart pounding where branches slap
I stumble, I fall, then run on harder
but the house is empty, like a trap

Running again to the empty beach
across the cold sand to see a ship
standing in the freezing black sea
another wave cracks like a whip

Sails raised in shimmering moonlight
my old friend is sailing away
to another place and another time
across the sea through ocean spray

Sad, and happy, I stumble back
over sand in the silent night
to be by the dying fire, the glowing coals
his empty glasses glimmering in fire's light

The book left open and only half read
with a story to go on in life
of a cart-load of memories
giving comfort when there is strife

The house crumbles where trees grow
the waves arrive upon the beach
comforting as they crash in the night
and echo beneath the Moon's high reach

Surrounded by hills and clouds around
surrounded by time and days and night
surrounded by tears and laughter
surrounded by memories of a good life

Bounding on through day and night
bounding on to what life brings
bounding on with imagination
bounding on with laughter that sings

Hammering ideas to be new forms
hammering visions to be bright
hammering knowledge to be wise
hammering wisdom to take flight 

Until some moonlit night
when waves crack like a whip
a dinghy comes across the bay
fetching a passenger for their ship

I can but hope that a few good words
will be remembered from my time
beyond the fickle tempests of this life
beyond the circle of my rhyme

Jaqi
Bluh

Tuesday
15
January
2019

NOTE ~ The first four lines of this poem hung forever, as if executed from the body of the poem by a French guillotine. That muse of mine kept total silence, until a story began to spring up, giving that lonely first verse the body of a poem. There is simply no predicting what will spring from the well of imagination and memories.

This poem is a reflection on my old friend, Aubrey Berkeley, a wise old English gentleman, from whom I learnt so much about life, and what really matters. I once asked Bark, as he was called, "What is the most important thing in life?" He was always very swift with an answer to any question, but this time, there was a deafening silence. Then, after a while, Bark answered with one word ~ "Confidence" ~ which I carved onto a stone, to remind myself, and anyone else. Bark's old house was near a beach, where the waves crashed in at times, at the same time from one end to the other, like the crack of a whip. There were cliffs nearby, where I once saw the great round Moon rising above the hills, with the light dancing across the water. Such magical moments echo through time, to haunt the imagination. The wisdom of the elders is a precious gift to us all. Bark passed on in 1973.