My Guru (& the intrusive face) In the wilderness of surrounding social certainness, Exiled; an audience to tables of my inedibles—bright cheeses, canapés green&black olives, distracted; I bump into the doyen of words, guru to a literary soul: Emma. Standing next to me on sacred ground. Breathlessly, I listen to your wordless sight-filled breathing. I would drop my fashion jacket (with sculptured peace sign) into any muddy lino. Leaning my hand to balance Your ephemeral thoughts, celebrate your words embrace your magic views; Egyptian cats & flowered children floating on depths of cultured rivers, on godlike currents…….I drifted with you;“Lee Thomson”
Author: Lee Thomson
uses the intrinsic gift with words his mother said he had to write about the spiritual aspects of Life(Death). He feels connected with the leylines of word & rhyme, & has become the poet he always felt he was. Maturity, insight & understanding... These are the poetic gifts.