July 2~ LAURIE DONALDSON

Poetry lovers and friends, thanks for stopping by SHINE, where today we welcome Scottish poet Laurie Donaldson with three phenomenal poems:  "Torchsong," "The Man I Could Have Been," and "Some Day." Enjoy! And thank you, Laurie, for sharing your words with SHINE international poetry community.

Torchsong
(for Rosebud)

Fleeting bright through dark I want
to follow that glow to see you again,
even half-seen on the edge of awareness.

You show at disconcerting times
my will o’ the wisp
across the rain-thronged moor

of old heartbreak. Traipsing,
I feel led by that magic now, know its pull,
my gone child I sensed I’d meet once more,

to eventually clasp in ethereal embrace.
She calls me with fairy fire
from those endless might have beens

where imagination becomes penance,
taught sorrow in that ancient way.
Despite empires rising, falling into ruin,

new atrocities unfurling towards the light,
this kernel of pain, my sprite,
holds sway deep within, and she beckons

me to finally follow, to lure me
to accept her ghostly radiance,
not at the end of a tunnel

but across a wide welcoming upland
of vivid clouds, spectrum of patchwork
mosses and lichens that absorb

my energy as I pass from one form to another,
slowly delighted to become such brief flare
– not quite there, rarely seen but once known.

The Man I Could Have Been 
(with apologies to Roddy Lumsden)

The man I could have been understands the difference between art and artifice,
can assuage doubt with the sweep of a pen,
ink drying on pages of easy dreams,
adds verbs destructively like a spoilt magus.

The man I could have been has not savoured measly death,
but has drawn a line in clear water, a paddle
quietly moving him to windward,
assuming a position of casual delinquency.

The man I could have been eats placebos with little relish,
holds comfort quietly as a stranger needs a map to their life,
pushes disdain from his mind, but slowly,
until stained clouds are beaten away by the sun.

The man I could have been does not slice up eyeballs,
knows those he can trust are not those he must like,
affects preposterous opinions for the sake of controversy,
while secretly feeling their worth, just a man trying not to give it all away.

The man I could have been has seen that, done that,
is full of brio, in tune with the bloated times of easy ego,
can hinge on a kitten heel in a new direction,
one that has the flavour of sorghum and papaya.

The man I could have been has cut out the middleman,
spread a range of reveries out on a mat for display,
clasps momentary whims like a cheap necklace
and finds suitable transport for each passing thought.

The man I could have been finds anxiety a natural ally,
discovers a lodestone of purpose designed for anything new,
throws shrapnel at chance and shrugs at spoon theory,
piles worn experience in a heap and then sets fire to the world.

Some Day

I planted a tree to say a few words to the sky
watched it grow into the bright air
to speak for itself, and me,
our message to the rain
thickets of small birds
a wind that displaced quiet
a flichter of snow as the seasons talked back
owned us both.

Laurie Donaldson is a Scottish poet and artist who has been published in numerous journals, magazines, anthologies and zines. He also runs creative writing workshops, and recently helped launch and co-hosts a monthly creative open mic, and is part of a collective starting a new local magazine for the arts.

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