A broken cup
an unfulfilled dream
Lunar butterflies in a ladies eyes
Tulips beauty undefined
an oiseau taking to wing

Golden Calfs tinkling of dew drops
A way to live
a way to lie
The rain falls low
and the wind rides high

Sorry, is never really a strong enough word,
to disguise the hurt or pain caused.
I'm just deadwood going through some negativities.
It's unfair I've loaded this on you,
even if we're in a long relationship.
I wish to set you free.
return you to the calm
as a pupa before the metamorphosis.

You entered a career  and grow with success.
You've become somebody
well respected,
carrying a banner of pride
your hobbies identified you,
never thinking this is borrowed time.
Your trust in yourself was impervious,
despite an event that had been building
lititle by little
like lit matchsticks slipping out of your hand,
onto a inflammable floor.
It's called an anxiety attack.
like a cat scratch it didn't amount too much when it noxiously came
but when you avoid the third train to work
panting like an out of breath player,
forcing yourself to stand amongst a group of yelling school kids
you already sense the nothingness
you've underplayed in your mind.
Arriving at the station
you want to double back
take to a station bench, admitting something wrong.
Forcing yourself to work
uttering the famous words
I cannot do this.
I'm heading for a breakdown.

The Lord  is our rock
He  leadth  away from temptation
turning us from the darkness .
He tramples our enemies
and shields our hearts
giving us both hope and forgiveness

I met her picking apricots
from the wayside.
She said her name was Rita,
and she sang sweet songs
to mellow my heart,
where she went afterwards
was only told as a legend.

Illy cofffee served  down herne hill market
the staff this week seemed different.
Pullens restaurant stripped
to be refurbished,
the mandatory space optimiser
a flat at the back.
We read the planning permission notice
and realise space is a premium
Meanwhile people are so incidental.

Like a lost colour
a  dream  remains unexplained.
Promises set from beguile
point  towards  windswept  winter lands
I try to  half  forget the sadness,
along  lovers lanes
where thatched roofs remember
moonlight  togetherness

Is this still a Park
or a crime scene
Is that derelict library
where we used to read at
Is that a cry of a bird
or something more anguished

The daffodils loftly sway neath the tall oak tree
younder in the church yard
bluebells annoint the old grounds.
Father Joseph's flock has flown,
the congregation have moved to the town.
All at once he feels alone.

I sleep well
but my dreams are bad
I dreamed i was at Mafeking
and the sunrise was frail
I couldnt see my enemy
but the relief of not knowing
(was if my own measures)
were a seige too far

Barren cloisters with howling wind
We are as feigned as the whites of fridges
The wind feels shrug on our faces'

Those barbed words count
like a Jade plant without a stem

You survive by change
and dawn is heaven
after the night's guilted  foray
unmade on nickel promises

Autumn is the priest of pride.
Her shadows lifts a gentle fragrance
that farmhands duly celebrate.
The coffin makers drink a sweet nectar
that lifts their souls.
The milkmaid idolises memories of her first  love.
August is this flame

August is the slumbering Month
replete  and sated
where colours stay true,
reds flame purely
blues glow coolly.
Whereever the peak crescendos.

Autumn is forgiving.
Its gentle gullet sways,
still as a water closet
withholding the wind.
Its nostrils flare
but never shudders.
Its brittle soil yields at first touch
It takes in tubers and roots
an enveloping kindness,
and lets the rain pour,
gushes into the all clear.

Muntjac deer sipping from the river
wild marigolds shimmering in the early light,
cast off the debris and prestige your head!
Cajolement  is its own spectacle
as a trickle of light shines
The Darkness dances staccato in its own accord
Between the silence and dew  lingers truth

clusters of heaped leaves
lodge against sunsets orange hue
turning towards autumns fanfare
I sense this  time of cleansing
a shroud without a name descends
taking only twigs to ignite an epiphany
Autumn you are a cove with an argent must
whose manifest dusts rotted boughs
an ecosystem to reciprocate
considered hope

Before you go trust  in me
follow the warm Autumn fade
watch the geese to their journeys end.
Warry words I will not speak.
I shall return and talk of love
Our story is yet to be told.

Before you go trust in me,
follow the warm Autumn fade.
Watch the geese to their journeys end.
Warry words I will not speak.
I shall return and talk of love.
Our story is yet to be told.

The leaves turned amber
like an eclipse,
as the girl celebrated her 13th birthday
The music lessons grew tired
She would rather play
with the other children
The teacher became vexed at this turnaround
Trackless Children flourish on nothingness
as Autumn watches the merry-go-round.

Autumn comes loftily
does somersault silhouettes
and turns a man into a tree

In twilight
we play in the fields
and life has a golden hue

The overripe pumpkins are harvested
The hollow wind
strips the foliage

The rays of Autumnal  light
returned us to a familial sheaved place

Autumn's crumbs offer a crescendo
of  calm delight,
plies on the autumnal  filler
of reds and yellows
goldy elms,
until a silent thrush at night
before the crumbling black wall.

I once held  a clutch of unhappiness,
in a field of corn flowers
as leaves blew cankered with rust,
if only  Autumns white shadows 
would cross the stubble fields
and by the morning light a wondrous hamlet
would be strolled upon
that would be reason enough
to dream into the realms of the possible
reinventing  brightness unbowed.

Autumn give me your mists
and your warm soil,
squirrel pledge your kernels
of deciduous brown,
soon tall shadows
ply their density,
whilst the arcane wind is hazy,
as it soft-pedals on the meadowlands,
time picks the gourds of Autumn.

Another Autumn reigns,
cold metal blue,
Evergreen Matador steps out again
looking for his Bravo Toro.
Stroppy Labrador,
surrounding you with love.
Spirits having flown,
with the Northern star.
Portly headmasters blunt with scorn.
Ravenous Ravens a plenty,
fill the void

the bracken fields
fill with rainwater
the submerged cartwheel rots
as kale sways
in the outlier fields

After the languid storm
cold against the grass
winter beeches thrive
as the flotsam swirls by
the Riverside
fills their proverbial prose

i could be your lifeline
you could be my brook,
in times of trouble
we shouldn't overlook.

in the air i smell chicory coffee
beware of the Huns.
Their  trenches may be close
Achtung ! Achtung !
I am correct.

The days drew in,
the shadows caress my face.

As the calvary of life goes by
hearts of frankness set me free

Who wants to know,
why the black crocuses don't grow

Behind the cascades of leaves
the bald Sun has to run and hide;
didn't you  hear its arrow rush,
For this is how things are.

Took the train north
to capture the star gaze
Didn't say if she would come back
Where is her boyfriend now
The one she believed in


She chooses her colours for pleasure
Russett sunset
and embroideries for you
surrounds herself with friends
To learn the truth
Summer fade
Leaves a smile

I Hear yet look beyond
a distant spot,
planning for a monologue
where words fail
from an already fall
never of my making.
Blame blame, vanish this spot,
that grows a crater
where eventual discontememt
scales the laddered escape.

bright eyes follows light
its easy in Las Vegas venues

Are these girls for real ?
eating outside the cafe
its a cold day in April
they have no stockings.
Little sparrow show your dare
pick up bread crumbs
from their clueless table.
Somethings got to give
your fledglings are more deserving

a wild blossom gathers moss
a bison searches mountains and further trails
for nourishment and there after

The blazing summer gardens
makes him homesick for London.
Pure yellow daffodils, candescent poppies, sunflowers.
Flowers are essential.
They never have rage or conflict.
They are instinctive.
The National Garden Scheme,
offering carrot cake and coffee
for the followers.

May God gave us belief
to follow his commandments
and give Nations his blessing.
May our hearts  receive
our earthly portion
and advance the glory of our Lord

Through the curtain of time
you disappoint me
Love is a cold bitter word
suddenly it turns its own pallor
I don't need the promises you made
yet time it obsessives my heart
Cant you see I'm miserable and blue
Please leave me
I may come home
but can't say when

the blue boys flounder through the town
looking for blue girls
to share a bed

The lonely boys then pick moon beams and stroll into the recesses of the night

the blue boys wander through town
looking for blue girls
to share a bed

The lonely boys pick moon beams and stroll into the recesses of the night

The midday dog schemes and dreams
meanwhile my neighbourhood is so dim
not a scivvy to wash a dish
or a calico cat to fufill a wish

When I wander among the swathes of  Bluebells
I am minded of a  nascent  variety
creeping in amongst our beloved ones,
Spanish shifts of hue
in the Weald of traditional  Kent.
I swear some sad maid
riding on a basket bicycle
scattering new seed
how unpatriotic!

outside wild children play in the woods
the lonely girl washes in blue light,
when she is gone
there is much bewilderment,
she offered so much hope in the allurement .

In the stillness of winter,
a blue light comes a shimmering
The World enjoins its inclusion,
as sorrow is banished.

The  tortoise shell cat Rosie with only three legs
and the matron who married the headmaster
a mariage de convenance as the French would say
and his Labradors Captain and Brigader with their whipping tails
And live in teachers old as hills

Like a master coat
for all occasions
you wear your school colors well
yet when the gong sounds
you stand to attention
such is your inverse discipline,
of one so institutionalized
who cannot see the woods from trees

Learning Latin as a dead language
reflects the ethos of the school
- parrots at dawn
You feel you are wearing a straitjacket
when outside in the real world
and your dawn swims
don't inspire confidence
like salted caramel
as an after taste

His  girlfiend states if she earns enough tips
she'd rather their cat go to ninja school,
than agree to repair the leaking flat roof.
She's such an advocate in feline power,
impervious to all that's in its way.
Yet again Janine is asking him
to see Umbrellas  of Cherbourg,
she more than anything like to
look like Catherine Deneuvre.
But Bobbys uncomfortable with his dream.
The movie ended sadly.
How can you end dreams mid flow?
Janines all helter skelter,
an ultimation sleighride
down the Aix de Bains
to test his masculinity ?

Don't know  where to hide the bodies,
or where that wild smile came from.
But I've got a bad feeling,
the longer this goes on
spots on the Sun will appear
as with gaps on the wall
If there isn't a body
then there's no crime
to support several lives
coming home.

She is built like a boiler chicken
with eggs aplenty to lay
drinking champagne wine
and munching panettone
in the splendor of her nest
No messing up, its not obscene
Time for a temperature to check
for a fever
Touch has a memory
peeling orange rind
Tourist boy
Give me metal to drink


Chasing down the Sun
Yesterday false hope was raised
So we found evening tide
to ablute the chicken shed

the tip of sensitivity
more like a bruised arm,
and statistics their own measuring scale
what is imperfection if the keystrokes
show otherwise?
and is relegation rolled up sleeves again?
who serves the relish
that delights in fallacies?

Pale Sons move in  electric light
Their yellow hair brittle like straw
Contemptuous of time and place
Such an unceasing guise