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The Distant Vision by Joe Ogden

I say no words, they may shatter crystal hope
For you shine like a cool desert star, as I burn inside
If I could walk in your footsteps across endless sandy tracks
dance under the same moon as you and hear your songs
in the tall reeds at the edge of the oasis
My heart would beat louder than my voice is

If you find a love greater then mine for you
then you must forsake me with my full bless
for you deserve no less, I will not turn my head
I know we have no world in which we share
Standing on each others horizon, you move on
nothing between us but distance

These words will be as near as I ever will be to thee
I shall not speak, so you will not know my name
Only in dream will you know me, in shadow
the edge of your vision, the whisper of forgot tune
I stand on the dune by the lost sand sea
When it covers my dried bones, each will be wind carved
with the love, I wish could be for me


For Runi's 800th Birthday bash

The Late Season by Joe Ogden

I look out onto fields of scarlet daises
towards imagined spike grass dunes
Bit by bit I forget the parts of you
The names of your god
till I remember only the feeling
but as I walk the unknown
You held my steady

But I am out of season
An empty stretch of coast line
Overtly romantic
Utterly desolate
A figure lost to the landscape
Screaming at an ever approaching sea
On quick and silver sands
‘danger signs’ I never saw
Gulls mock and swoop

Your love saves me
Later I sit where we once sat
sea spray splashes
against the windows
I’m warm, safe
High on cliff side
I drink mint tea
Then take the short walk back
to the place of scarlet daises
where you rested then told me

You are not gone from me
from where once I heard your song
No, you are just ahead
Just beyond human sight
Your tranquil footsteps calms the sea


For Runi's 800th Birthday Bash

Cotton Needle by Joe Ogden

I am the cotton needle
that you thread your cotton through
unseen you guide me
stitching me into the fabric of your love

At first I seem to hurt you with every dip and pull into your frame
Each loop making it harder for me to pull away
But over time I shine
Losing my roughness

Together we make a tapestry of life
never to be unpicked
When the end came
You did not snap the cotton of you love
the thread continued on down the line
No longer in the frame my part complete

I watch you now place the quilt around my forebears
Rapping them within the fabric of your love
each loop stitch the lesson of your wisdom

In many styles
yet a continues line
from the beginning to
the end


For Rumi's 800th birthday bash

to the coffee machine

To ZeeBee or not to ZB,
not a question for Zanze's coffee,
machine that socks it to Stephenson's
rocket,....slooosh,.whiroosh, koroooch...
..our utterly improbable mechanical
friend might expect us to try again,
having raided the market-place,
and found only tired names.

bruce



let the mechanical friend be an inspiration

Chapter 14-ZANZEBARDS(second Tuesdays-I Ivegate ,Bradford 7pm)

From: thom woodruff
Sent: 10 October 2007 19:18
To: Karl Dallas
Subject: Chapter 14-ZANZEBARDS(second Tuesdays-I Ivegate ,Bradford 7pm)

Stella is Greek and loves living poetry
Taya is Muslim -makes poetry out of menus
Karl is a singer songwriter and poetic improvisor
Bruce is a sound poet and consummate performer
Gloria had her poems stolen-so she must remember
Joe has children's poems and lost love sagas
Opening night a skeleton to hang fresh flesh upon
as customers came with no ideas that poetry was on
They were engaged and clapped and watched as one by
one
each poet proved their right to sway the crowds
who would otherwise have seen their execution
And poetry was validated
like that bus ride in to Bradford
No parking close at hand-when the venue is so central
each went home happier than when they entered
Zanzebard
Now every second Tuesday is a ritual of love
where words and music engage strangers to the arts
and open mike means that anyone can take part
and Bradford gained another space
where they can now celebrate
multilingual,multicultural ,meticulous thoughtforms
on a coffee base...
STILL SMILING Oct 10,2007



PUBLISH YOUR OWN POETRY!RUN YOUR OWN VENUES!
Oct 11-BARNSLEY WRITERS!
12-14-THOM IN SCOTLAND!
17-WINFORD De Beers with Darren Poyzer
18-PRESTON with Darren Poyzer
25 WORD COMMAND Paighton Devon
26-YORKSHIRE MYSTERY GIG
28-BATLEY BORDERS bookstore 2pm

Stand on Sands of Zanzebard

Down at the Zanze on sea and cool cat poets. It was a barmy night and tired of 'big sir' (as she likes now to be called) I drift wood into the old Zanze Cafe where hip op dudes were playing tunes to two young chicks - soon to split, to do body surfing down the Bradford beck's legendary rip tided tubes. The night was hot with the steam of the coffee shop as we hear the gerrs, sissies, wees and pops of Bruce competing with the coffee frothier, Karl dude plays with his MI5 remodeled musus ex machine, Jim the folk peoples' poet sheared thoughts on the war, while Gloria haikus' the menus and I lament as always on the passing of youth and love. The night only to be topped like the Marshmallows on an already 'Why' frothy coffee by Thom the World dude Poet. So cool as to be Ice Tea, so the cool finger clicking night rang no shark bell - even the constant tide of human traffic added to the flow. So you Surfer chicks and dudes who want to check it out, first Tuesday of the month and you know I won't be surfing the interweb, but hanging with the dude poets at the Zanzebard... Hay, Way better then a night in with pipe and slippers, then a night out with same...