Poetry by Adrian Rogers

Adrian Rogers


I am the Fool
with a dog at his heels
a troubadour, a bard,
a minstrel’s song
on ‘the long and winding road’
to summer
I am cool
then fire hot

the wheels of time
turn relentlessly
and lore, hard
on a stretching mind
is long in reach
a goad in all seasons

this, my alchemy’s
tool of transformation
holds the key
opening a strong door.

I am
‘the Nightingale and the Rose’
the perennial philosophy
love that glows
like the stars
stronger than gods
and demons,
the way of the heart

a sacred way
spring for the knower
in temple rites
‘the dayspring from on high’
a promise...

who am I?


Autumn is my forest past
a leaf choked gutter in the present
‘a time, times, and half a time’
the last place corralled by memory,
debris swept on river runs
washed clean of grime
drifting, rootless

recollections blurred
when elusive images
a hemisphere away
star in the specious brevity
of coolly felt intrusions
sharply brittle with fallen
dust exuding bark
stark, chilled air, rain
on eucalyptus leaves
tanged by menthol and wet wood.

Only shortened days
abruptly stinging showers
skies imprinted
by flights of migrant birds
and fleeting
timely recollections
link them timelessly.


clutches at sameness
while contradictorily
searching for stimulation

must be predictable
beyond the next bend
yet predictability
is monotony
‘round the bend’.

Does contradiction
a schizophrenic wish
to stand aloof
from decline,
embrace familiarity,
disregarding soul
and solar evolution?

Entropy rules
sidereal precession with,
or without our consent.