Tony Roberts' Website
Tony Roberts'Website

Robert Graham



                           “In order to write poetry”, I say,

“I have to feel passion”.


“What is there that you would still like to do?”

the woman asks me,

blazing blue-eyes, searching,

exhorting me to abjure personal limitations.


My mind is blank.


For sometimes the immensity

of what we really want

defies words,

even defies our own understanding,

below the threshold of our consciousness

a sudden, momentary yearning,

beyond all reason,

too outrageous to articulate.


Conversing, I forget the time.

All too soon the Conjunction ends.

“Enjoy the rest of your journey”, I say,

“I mean your life’s journey”.

And she, with her father and her son,

vanish into the crowds at St. Pancras Station.

And I to the underground

To wander distractedly

In subterranean spaces.


Scattered Leaves1




                             He said to to her

                             And went and bought a book

.                            It was called Some Day I’ll Find You.




                             Find whom?

                             Man or woman

                             Angel, god or goddess

                             Expressing the unknowable





                             Behold a face

                             That created the stars

                             And launched a thousand galaxies

                             With love




                             To discover

 the internal landscape

                             Wherein the Source of all beauty




                             To sing

                             Nunc Dimittis

                             In the face of beauty

                             So unearthly that fear of death




                             To sing

                             Nunc Dimittis

                             When you have found this Source

                             Which Wisdom through the ages says





                             The Higher Self

                             Projects itself outward

 And sees others in transfigured





                             Then recognise

                             Love in those around us

                             To cherish family and friends

                             With Love







I’m lost2

Outskirts of town

Unfamiliar landscape

Global positioning system





The mind brings us

Face to face with the truth

Is it in dreams that we perhaps




                             To change

                             Our destiny

                             Unfreezing the psyche

                             Loosening our tectonic plates

                             But how?




                             We need to drink

                             From the waters of Lethe

                             In this life: that we may forget

                             our past.



 To sail

 To the Land of

 Lost Content maybe we

 Perforce must lose sight of the shores

 Of home



                             Rip tide

                             Sail into it

                             You will be borne away

                             Your life will never be the same




                             ………These lines

                                      Scattered pieces

                                      Of a jigsaw puzzle

                                      Awaiting our Higher Self to





(1) “And within its depths, I saw ingathered,
   bound by love in a single volume,
  the scattered leaves of all the universe.”


(2) “In the middle of the road of my life

 I awoke in the dark wood

where the true way was wholly lost”


-      Dante



Your Precious Gift


Our parting kiss

Through Airport Security

        Secretly smuggled!


The departure lounge

Playing Beethovens’ Seventh

        A song of springtime.




I Wonder


I wonder why you come to me in dreams

As if there is some business left undone?

You want to speak to me - or so it seems –

And know that if you call me, I will come.

I wonder whether you will ever know

How much, across the years, I’ve thought of you

At light of dawn, or sunset’s afterglow,

By starlit nights, or early morning dew.

Perhaps beyond the shadows of the cave,

In some Platonic realm we really live

Transfigured, new; perhaps beyond the grave

We’ll know the pain we caused, and both forgive.

      But then, I cast aside philosophy

      And wonder: do you ever dream of me?


Print Print | Sitemap
© Anthony Roberts