A small shoal of bright yellow fish
swim in and out of the red fire coral
looking out for predators
they ignore the strange black shadow above them
and swim to another coral
I watch the fish with interest
from behind my plastic dive mask
as I begin to swim deeper
the coral’s change
to the colours of the rainbow
It seems like a new world
hidden beneath the surface
I feel foreign down here
as I don’t understand the beauty
of my surroundings
A mantra ray swims past
followed by three more
their huge wings
flap slowly and gracefully
as though they were flying
As I turn to go back to the surface
to return to my ageing motor boat
a mud brown octopus
swims up to meet me
and to shake my outstretched hand
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 4:10 PM UTC
What is anger?
a volcano bubbling inside
threatening to explode
the fury of the sun?
What is love?
a field full of corn
a blood red rose
its petals full of peace
So what is this
a man of hate
a man of love
does this mystery
change like the seas
till the end of time?
Does it hide like a frightened child
behind the rocks
far below the seas
waiting to be found?
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 4:09 PM UTC
The sailing boat pitches
in the violent sea
it rocks from side to side
a crying baby in its mother’s arms
The heavy boom swings
like an old clock pendulum
the thick ropes creak
the sail cleats strain
The mast snaps in half
like a dry twig
it falls into the sea
leaving only a jagged stump
The wind stops howling
the violent sea calms
the boat stops rocking
asleep in its mother’s arms
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 4:08 PM UTC
I see the young lover boy
creeping through the trees
ignoring his friend’s calls
Romeo is his name
He sees the lady Juliet
her young bright face
as pale as the moon
suggests marriage and love
I hide in the oak church pews
spying on the scene
of Romeo and Juliet
it made me feel rather green
I follow Romeo in the dark
a quiet ghost in the depths
he sees the lady Juliet
and he like a child
weeps out loud
his tears form rivers in his cheek
Now they both lie dead
neither can be woke
the stars joined them together
the white and the yolk
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC
Sitting upright in the mud
the proud ship waits
silent as a tree
waiting for a lonely diver
I swim towards it slowly
disturbing shoals of fish
looking for survivors
Then the white faces
come and go again
hidden in the depths
like unsolved mysteries
Diving faces
pale as death
their transparent bodies
show the pain
I leave the ship
leaving the bodies in peace
their lives may have gone now
their souls live on forever
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 4:06 PM UTC
A man stands on a cliff edge
listening to the sea
calm as the wind
which gently blows
He stands like a statue
thinking about the past
his mind is open
I slip inside his head
I find a storm unseen and powerful
a whirlpool forms
of many thoughts
mixing to form one
confusion rules
I see a puzzle
its pieces scattered
incomplete
like a forgotten mystery
I close my eyes
and leave the man’s head
the mind storm calms
the man is at peace
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 4:04 PM UTC
An old man sits
by a roaring fire
roaring with greed
with destruction
A boy comes in to see him
the man looks away
he sends the boy home
noting the tears in his eyes
the rejection
The old man looks out
he sees the boy leave
he settles back again
waiting for the time
The clock chimes
the old man shakes
looking back over
a long happy life
then it ends
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 4:03 PM UTC
n the dark fields
the night is silent
there is no sound
not even from the tawny owl
flitting through the trees
Then like a child’s blizzards toy
the swirling tornado forms
the black shape grows
increasing in strength
It ***** up corn
like a giant hoover
then spits it out
as if it tasted bad
Then throwing trees
like a child at play
destroying the fence
destroying the barns
Cars like toys are thrown
to the sound of smashing glass
the lamp posts snap
like wooden match sticks
The tornado slows
as though tired
it then disappears
the town can rest again
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
The wordsmith retires to his private place
to the forge inside his mind
pumps the bellows and stokes the fires
until they are burning with white hot inspiration
He plunges the iron ideas in to the heat
until it is ready to work with
beats them into shape on the anvil of his notebook
using the heavy hammer of his blue ink biro
Every time the hammer strikes
little sparks fly up and dance
words not needed this time depart
to used on another piece
Sometimes the ideas need refining
and have to be reshaped
parts of the cast are sometimes out of place
the spelling needs adjusting
all the time he stays at his smithy
sweat poring off him continuously
while he attempts to forge a master piece
Eventually his task is completed
and left to alone to cool
the forge is dampened down
to be used on the next occasion
his work here is completed
and ready to be seen by others
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
It all started with a kiss
under the hanging branches of mistletoe
your parents hung up each year in their lounge
as the clock struck the new year our lips met
only for a minute but it felt like longer
I never felt more alive than at that moment
We started seeing each other regularly
every date we went somewhere new
my almost perfect dinner companion
I'd spend most of the meal looking into your eyes
and seeing the love reflected in them
After a few months I gave you a ring
and promised my future to you
I remember seeing you smile despite the tears
as you accepted my proposal
a wonderful wedding we celebrated
under the light of a full moon
I still can see you crying with joy
as you tossed the blue bouquet to your sister
We're still going strong a year later
our first born will be due any day
I don't even know if it's a girl or boy
I've asked you not to tell me
as in some ways I'm hoping for twins
When people ask us how we first met
I smile in happy memory of that first night
we look them in the eyes and reply
"it all started with a kiss"
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 11:56 PM UTC