Instinct

Instinct

clutched the finger

held on tightly

sought the nipple

sucked till fed

Instinct

turned to light

with opened eyes

and blinked

retired to bed

Awoke each day

and rose and reached

as always done

instinctively before

Instinct fought

survival uppermost

how could it not

Rejected pain

except for when

love demanded

or commanded

reflexively

withdrawing

or retreating

or advancing

as intuited

It knew

Instinct recognised

no explanation

can’t birds fly

don’t bunnies hop

and fish all swim

Don’t we

just know

as babes

as men

as women

don’t we know

how instinct works

how pain inflicts

and how we learn

with instinct hand in hand

We clutch

and feed

and sleep

and dream

believe

that inside grown

instinctively

we hold on

living life as love

and pain

for love and pain

one sought

rejected

these are life

all subtly known.

Simply Known

Some things are clearer in darkness,

Sight abides,

Some touch is more tender with absence,

Felt inside,

Some sounds are louder in silence,

Heard within,

Some tastes always linger in memory,

Salt of skin,

Some senses respond minus stimuli,

Simply known,

Some love needs nothing to guide it,

Still shown.

Some senses are stolen in time’s stakes,

Such a sin,

Some, though, are never forgotten,

Win, win.

 

By Silken Threads

Unrivalled, the spinner,

intent on the task,

exuding,

controlling the yarn,

Four to the left,

four to the right,

light foosteps,

spinneret charm.

Tangled the cables,

coiled for effect,

cushioned to nest,

to ensnare,

Sonar, so plucked,

message relayed,

advancement of mate

with a dare.

Captvity calls,

tightened the threads,

matured in

hungering thirst,

Escape impossible,

tho’ eyes all around,

serviced, betrayed

by bloodlust.

Filigree’d netting,

coating of tack,

a lick and a spit,

paint the web,

Ravelled in silk,

by finest cord bound,

anaesthetised, numbed,

not yet dead.

Sotto Voce

In the silence of the evening…

I can hear a bird of prey

calling into darkness,

sotto voce,

sotto voce.

Hidden from all vision,

folded wings around,

protected but alert

to quiet noise,

quiet noise.

Covert operation,

camouflaged to kill,

he bides his time to fly, ascend,

to soar, 

to soar.

Whispers far below

dart his eyes to view, blinking

readiness to prey pursue,

once more,

once more.

Nothing follows then,

I cannot hear a sound,

a hush descends upon the soul of dark.

It’s alright,

it’s alright.

Then I close my eyes  to sleep,

silence follows silence,

a fog, a chill around.

all through the night,

through the night.

 

Sotto voce begins again,

plaintive in its plea

and comforts me again.

The night’s

alright.

Right

When the upsurge

Rises,

Spurts!

And truth explodes

With meaning,

No argument

Or reasoned clause

Subverts

That inner

Feeling.

Acknowledged worth

Of human brain

With heart

And soul

And might

Embraces freedom,

Humanity;

Instinctively

Knows what’s

Right.