Category Archives: The Coffee Poet’s Society

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the caffeine of life, To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.” – Henry David Thoreau (with apologies)

Filmmakers Wanted

 
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And so, I am now part of a company, i9Films, that aims to help filmmakers find a worldwide audience and audiences find world cinema.

We are currently seeking to build our catalogue for the site, so if you or someone you know is a filmmaker, please take a look.

We want to create something that filmmakers will want to use, something that filmmakers will enjoy so that they can grow and create films that audiences will to enjoy. We are seeking to build long term relationships with filmmakers and therefore are eager to create “win-win” situations for all parties.

Hope you’ll give us your feedback and looking forward to seeing what’s out there in the world of cinema!

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A Raven & A Cross

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Eyes as old as the ages,

wisdom buried deep in lines carved there,

Wings burnt as ashes, carried on the wind.

Strength as old as the ages,

in steel beak and arcing talons gripped.

Across the field of golden honey,

a shadow in its flight,

She watches you soar to distant horizons,

then return,

Return, to my lover’s delight.

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Try Darkly

I broke a window

It smiled with jagged grief

and the hole swallowed me up

The darkness around you

held me

more than your eyes

more than the stares

of strangers

Each passing moment

weighing heavily

The second hand falling

the minute hand following

pulled by that weight

The darkness deepened

and your eyes dimmed

The spark inside went out

Standing there

smile lost in pitch

and a whisper issued

from you

in me

: Don’t even try

A Good Cry

God, unwilling, has given this day,

a mind at mercy, skies ashen grey,

What is your hope for the forthcoming dawn?

She cries, she is the sea, the ships have moved on.

 –

God, unwilling, has given this day,

Greenlighted for misery, the innocent pray,

For what is the hope for a truth that lies dead?

 A funeral march on broken glass tread,

Across the desert pass of live terrain,

When defiance brings hope in the encroaching night.

 –

God, unwilling, has given this day,

We have forced his hand to deliver this pain,

Darkness comes, but not the dark of sleep,

She is the sea, she moves, her pain is deep.

 –

Scented leaves of a rose’s bud,

On salty air and tear stained cheeks.

 –

God, unwilling, has given this day,

Her mind is at ease, the winds have their way,

For she is the sea, and I have my place,

And god, willingly, has given this peace.

Of Her Whisper (excerpt)

 She likes the rain.

Not that she has told me so, but I have noticed her expression; eyes widening slightly at the first suggested pitter-pat, then her mouth broadening in a smile at the full blossoming of the promise and the steady drum of the fall against the window. The window, its large plate-glass with the letters E F A C in chipped and fading red letters arced like a beaten sunrise across its surface.

She stands over me with her coffee pot poised and eyes shining. The look of a little girl lost in illusion.

Can’t see a thing now, I say, simply to have something to say.

Drawn back, she tilts the pot, filling my cup with steam and rich burnt coffee and smiles into it. The world outside loses definite shape, blurs and runs in shining colours as the water pours down the glass. She looks at me briefly then glances out.

It’s a van Gogh, she says, and whisks away.

Second Cup

Look at my hands aged by this water,

Look at my mind, wrinkled by time,

Look at my soul fresh as the morning,

Look at my coffee, cost me some dimes,

(And love cost me nothing, but all that I had)

If you come back, I’ll tell you I’m sorry,

If you come back, you’ll buy me some time.

If you come back, I’ll buy you a coffee,

Hey, what the hell, I’ve still got a few dimes.

(And since love cost me all, I’ve nothing left to lose)

*me at 18