that sound

solomon-burke-03 aretha franklin_3 james-brown_2

trumpets sound
smooth velvet
that bass, electric
plucking deep down
and you know
that particular voice
hot and warm
that’s lived real and long
will fill the silence
with earth-bound sound
all heart and soul
percussions slipping round
around, cresting raw
on the black/white keys
a sax peaking high
the chorus cheering on
vinyl spinning, gleaming
and suddenly the whole bus is singing
Don’t you know I’ve got to find me a home
right now in your heart?

and that rhythm
takes you right out of the blues.

god, that sound.
nothing beats that sound.

© 2016 threegoodwords

outsourced

coffee paris

we need to re-learn how to take care of each other
we have outsourced so much
even the care of those closest to us
those who were, once, beloved.

we have to re-learn how to take care of each other
to offer solace without fear
without plots of retribution
without vitriol and viciousness
but with that rare thing: kindness, gentleness, sincerity.

why has that become so rare?
why is that not something we can expect
why is it the exception, rather than the rule?
a lot has come to my attention recently
about those left outside, alone, ‘to the winds’
freezing with a body warm
utterly lost with Google Maps uploaded.

we have un-learned the language of emotion
we can no longer speak of love without deconstruction
without cynicism and scoffing
we have no vocabulary to articulate the sublime
that allowed a poet, once, to stand on a bridge
and hail the sun, the sky, an entire realm.

we have lost that primal sound of succour
that beating-drum directness that reaches heart and soul
deep down into the darkest parts of the human condition
breaking through the man-made clouds with a ray of
sublime light that others of less sophisticated times
would have called divine.

we need to learn again
this language of love
langue, parole, signifier, signified
all meanings together, wrapped into each other
used in all languages known to man, woman, child
even if they were once warped by Barbara Cartland.

(and so what for the lace and corsets
so what for the gentlemen in bespoke suits
leaving their card at the door?
they have their place in the joyous abandon of make-believe.)

does that lessen the value of a warm hug, a sweet embrace?
that moment where you come together
with someone who is genuinely lonesome
and needs that one thing you can give, freely:
solace, comfort
peace.

©2016 threegoodwords

once more

landscape_pezibear_CC0licence

the sun once in bloom
now alive, hidden
in a land of green and black and gold

O, what grace is given
to know
all that we have known
and seen amongst us all
paved along the waves
once crossed, bound in stone

built in those days
when we still knew forever
a time of tears and laughter
flesh and bone
not lost
but no longer known

and so it goes
or so they say
the bells chime
the wind blows
and time is born once more.

© 2015 threegoodwords

there is light

waves 4

the sword of a soothing look
cuts loose the meteor of affection

*

joy withers
in a moment of crisp
bright, brittle
understanding
frissoned with threads of doubt

of sight and senses
but the heart knows
what is meant
and will not concede to
willful self
deceit

*

three heartbeats worth of relief
hope restored
there is light
no comet flashing
stark against the void

but an ancient fire
kindled by the first of flames
alive, living
knowing, known.

© 2015 threegoodwords

small miracles

ice cream 3 tina brok hansen tinbrokhansen dot blogspot dot dk

sometimes you find
the miracle already happened
before you even saw it
for what it was

sometimes the spark
lights up a fire so high
so bright
you know the warmth first
before you decipher
the flame, the light

sometimes life is made of
small miracles
piled up
one on top of the other
helping you, quietly
to make that sudden leap

and then it’s just that:
your life.

© 2015 threegoodwords

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