Suzanne the bluebird in you
made me wander away
to seize the moonlight for you
The enthrall of welcome back
freed the gift.
The glint in your eye took us elsewhere
for such is a balm
in this bid we find ourselves
rescuing each other

A tupperware of tomato sandwiches,
please some cheese and pepper
for such little  is all I ask
Dad  I  hope  you're okay
you've losing your wife to dementia
believe me  you're a  hero
daily realising  how rafts break on the rocks.
The care home is not as cracked out
as it should be !
Keeping your balance is an inborn skill
that can never check the  pain

Carry  your  sack to hell
not even a  morsel of  memory  should languish
A  solitary  splinter of  good
still goes punished.
Lower your  eyes in subservience,
but that's  unwise
with those  burning  pyres
of sandals, discarded
least any man secretly merited wings

The cafe tables are littered with left overs
pigeons forever observant
their regularity like faith.
Meanwhile its halibut tonight
Friday fish night,
are we so different?

See the water wash over you
with droplets preserving your dreams
fashioned as orginal thoughts,
that you wished to swore
vouchsafed in your sincerity
and everyone's hopes.

I drowned in a metalic pool.
Yet needing more varnish
each coat felt like sub polar pain.
I sought dying like a goaded swan,
yet out shone by my newly acquired nail polish
still possessed enough attraction
even in surrender,
to brush your ergo

Up tempo here and there
dating another mans ex
holding her hand.
Azure skies to grace
that connection
eye contact on initial met
then sunny walks
duplicate it on tracing paper
each other's smile
under hanging pergola,
as connected as a walk
under pagonala
your smile broader than the
erstwhile yesterday

He offered her a song
in hope of a  reprieve
Her four poster was like the
sails of a ship
uncertain in progress.
For he was uncharted wooing such a heart
Would she breeze over like Canada
or provide merriment like wagtails in spring.
A tightrope on this and that,
eggshells for apology
get it right boy.

I don't need  a  double bed
or a patch of garden
I want to posses my own soul
and play vinyl records
in my bungalow"s lounge

They killed off Croydon
when we eventually lost Safeways;
no butter milk or Blue Nun
no intelligent 70s decor
or ghosts of people with a touch of sense
walking the aisles contemplating
Kate Bush verses the Motors
for their wine bar aperitif;
or acknowleding  Croydons appearance taking a hit
with the Park Hill estate.
That hasty built ****** record store
nudging your independents.
Times are a changing
not yet year zero
yesteryear still good

Ebbo says its time to die
she mix you a slow potion
relish the end game
prodding a reply
Where's your will ?
She  ride your pride
call you Mr Browne
tell everybody you smell
If you're lucky maybe
fillet fish at Skegness.
No one wants you anymore
handkerchief sniffle sniffle.

With blepharitis she try  not  rub her eye
but already she's  preoccupied
with the state of things
her once quiet  road is a  cut through.
The  bus  is getting  more crowded with school children.
It doesn't feel such a  lucky town
it sold  itself with a 15  mins journey to the centre of London
and still  local authorities  distributes their loons
in leafy lanes.
I heard they hang around at night
their dreams  remiss
like  dragging  up the sensitivity

"Tree trunks" a  Cruttenden name calling,
lucky  I didn't get a  kick
after french lessons.
Sheena arrived half term
we laughed at her frickles
but envied her stoicism.
After school we smoked our  Capstans
watching the opposition Hockey Captain
up to her neck coughing.
If  I say anything  more
you wouldn't  imagine
I ever  grew up

I didn't have anything against Rupert Bear
his colouring book beat pixels way before their time
Who wouldn't  later do their home work
when we could play our mix tapes -
The Motors and XTC
and in the middle period
if I  ever got stuck
depend on ones sisters to spruce a playground scruff

I held onto your nettle rope
that your hands fashioned
then we  descended
the watch tower in Leith Hill,
elopimg  through the
greensand way
so that we could by pass the silent pool
where no young maiden could
tbe waylaid
by errant Knights again.
By such means compassion blossomed
gallantry pertained to new days

Try to spit and polish those
old braces, despite prestigious inconsistencies.
New builds for either part shares
or your out landlishly riche are
befuddled social engineering.
What ever happened to the old way
education bringing up the
working classes.
instead of parachuting people in.
Money talks instantly;
no value seen in nurturing development
just sales and free wifi connections
cargo cults to upset Croydon

They don't have donkeys at  South Bermondsey or market stalls.
The pigeons find it easy to loiter
the thoroughfare now
fish and chip wrappings are considered passe.
I wonder if the girls should dress  in black
as a counter statement
against the new builds above Tesco.
A sort of mourning for these  changes.
What's left of community?
last shot down by mothers helpers.
Town planners,  gosh
nail and  execution executive

With her brown boot on the carriage seat,
filing her nails
she was the detriment
of feminity.
The self was her only care,
mid thirties nurtured
the south east London way.
A night out planned at New Cross
she held no fear
educationally detached
raw emotions like nicotine cravings

She  smiled bravely in the fields of nettles
the threads of straw  a lost memory.
Her heart  injured
like the fey light bulbs
that never shone.
Having walked from the station
to a  lost place
where she made a  pitch for  her soul,
promising not to fall for the  dark dour suitors
who leaves their dusty shoes on tables.

Both of us cannot win,
in circles not for the first time
what defences can we possess.

Melting in your arms again
what more must I reveal ?

I don't feel better or worse
as I watch you seated
journey bound,
wondering what sort of person you are:
twirling fingers on the mobile
yet waywardly enriched by your eyes.
I shall remember,
looking for human qualities
red hair and black mascara
and high cheek bones to marvel at
in broad daylight.

Temder promises just wait.
The evergreens will bring a walk
and your head will be turned
with the occasioned ushering.
Why see this as false confidence
I only wanted to cast your doubts
and harden your heels
for the passing stroll

You worked all day
and only now
can belief grace you,
whilst you drink  cofee.
Mealy mouthed is better at meal times
you squeeze the ketchup
to watch the splash
on your empty plate.
No explanation is offered
if its bravado its misunderstood.
Its just the exasperation unstated.

Dismal has became helter skelter
most ladies in Mayfair  seem worn
they're tired, waylaid in fur
but its still a man's world then

The soothsayers grin
England lost to Poland in the qualifiers.
The aftershock of the energy crisis
sees new Sheikhs
money rolls like oil,
it buys and buys for some
even for the horses competing
at the London Riding Horse Parade.

Why isn't everyone raving about singer songwriter
Harvey Andrews?
or trying to memorise the pitch perfect tranquility
Why did we ever leave 1975?
when we had more hedgerows
and projected families on slides
Blondes didnt have to be peroxide
en naturel was the prevailing currency
Words were spoken with eye contact
and dreams came true

Why isn't everyone raving about
Harvey Andrews
or trying to memorise tranquility
Why did we ever leave 1975
when we had more hedgerows
and projected families in slides
Blondes didnt have to be peroxide
en naturel was a currency
Words were spoken with eye contact
and dreams came true

You roamed beyond the rainbow
you exceeded the limits,
with exalted sigh
felt the shudder of  relief.
Then the room of decontamination awaited
where chips from collected memories
short circuited
in damp vaults
where tree roots once grew

She forgot to love
never remembering about the waste.
Her sun red hair would one day
turn to white
In the meantime her yellowing letters
were taped with  bind.
Deftly turning her head
she reminded shackled to the dark,
the invisible string undercutting
her once smile.

Mr Snodgrass was an unrepentant  man,
he wanted  nothing more than a house mouse.
He laugh at her trainers,
telling they subliminally showed
she was uncreative.
He doesn't need twine
he plans to be provocative.
After intentionally brushing her cheek in the dark
she lower her head
and seem to take on his burdens.
She dye her hair sun red,
and wear a Ra Ra skirt to please.
Bare footed taking a few strides outside
to instinctively repair the mesh for the chickens

I could singe your whiskers
laugh aloud at your corderoys,
remove  your landed title
and send you to live in a tent
at the edge of  the woods
I've always wanted a hermit
in the vicinity of the folly.

A listless night draws in,
as you remember that boy
who only existed to break your heart.
The flutter of  bluebirds' wings  sounds endlessly;
until the salt tears dry,
leading you to the dunes
in an endless search
to find that someone special again.

How can you bare a broken promise
or loiter after a broken date?
Sad Samantha lost her chance,
no Frank Sinatra vinyl nights
serenading young lovers in,
or walks down moonlit colonnades.
She's just a victim of a steely heart whose
strung himself  around someone else's waist
and  dyed blonde hair

Where is the grass
once braid of field?
The empty stream -
a nonchantant dream.
The rub of eye's,
a steep descent -
into the brambles,
glaring along dumped concrete bags
bleached in this lungless place.

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 ?

Of the schema and polite conversation
where we learn the gentle art of fluttery
or how to complain in the surest dismissive line.
The uplighters are headache inducing
unless we've picked up a restless  cold,
downstairs cafe a shocker
thick coffee reminiscent of Starbucks.
Early retirement a pipe dream
we surely drop down before time  
not having navigated work life balance
because of  the distances travelled
and rest spent weekends.

At five oclock Calnorifian time, they switched off the beacon,
setting the mercury  into descent.
If San Francisco bridge was nye
how many tired and toiling poets would have jumped ?
Instead they muse elsewhere
resurrecting  their craft.
Jaded I can also taste the Whiskey
hum and rattle in places unfamilar
the sufferability no longer artistic;
Friends among us the dearly departed

I spoke her name over country lanes,
as though her deeds could  be spread
by telling the sky
Rebecca was the bravest woman;
for she told her Chieftain their children
would never fight for wrong
nor blooden the loam
I felt this was my soliloquy
unaware if association became culpability.
Solemn days linger when I recall
this stand  turned compassion into a quarry.
An exile matched by deeds,
forfeiting liberty
an early grave to put her dreams to.

Red haired girls always
seem oxygen starved
it’s like they've played hockey
for too long
or ran after their marmalade cat,
into the coal cellar,
after they had enough of  Miss too perfect

Oh to be brunette .
Toujors a different visage
somehow more autre,
strongly self reliant.
Cannot  believe their promises.
forever planning another
perfect  weekend  ahead

Weather tight
mist roaming over
ineptitudes follows
waterfalls and serpentines.
All would be good with  crampons, boots and fleece,
if prior instructions were  followed
but with a misfit  Meetup group
half are experienced
the rest are the stuff of strugglers
break or make every one of them
on the  Brecon Beacons

The Moon saw fit to shine
because it had  nowhere else to go
she sang a song for the apple boughs
because they were  bountiful
The Moon sighed to  heaven
as though in a wild  moment
she wanted the sea to lull
under  lunar lapse
for she sought to draw a  line
between the golden apples and her whispered  shadow
she was tired,so tired of  casting her modesty

You cast your name over
like silted reeds in the river,
on land
a thick covering of daub and wattle
sought your intention;
the wish to encase others in your space.
Such foolhardy fascination bears a cost,
like ubiquitous cochineal dye pools
Your dreams harbour barriers
as wide as your course strides permit,
the wilderness of banishment beckons
for as long as your  fortitude remains

My friend's visiting Calico cat hid
under the TV table recently
a momentary panic is a very long time
when uncertain in anothers space.
Reminds when I was 9
I lost my locket
and told a fib
on how it vanished under the sofa
clearly somewhere along  the hither
there lingers a trace of a lie

Deaths  knell
a summation of  lost causes,
out  of self  respect you hid
your braced weakness.
Inside you  have previously died
now awaiting featureless failure
it shrouds you
and  yesterdays core  once over
forever coils in recognotion

In my lounge thoughts of
books yet to be read,
if only this prescribed stillness could improve
the comfort of the time  
and the light  paving  stronger shadows,
my slippers  merging into coolness
with the  envisaged  ideal
i am safer  in my  kingdom
no  dragons  or  waywardness
just the well earned spectrum

Take my hand,
the cloaked supervisor's not very happy,
so let us boast
that if we bury his lanterns,
all signs  of yesterdays failure
will turn to dust
and seemingly recast
peace can break out
by drinking the mirth
the new  buds  can grow

Under the lustre  Moon
gazes are barbed,
do I really know you now?
At times your trumpet
plays for the days forlorn.
Yet  your ruinous music
is  confusingly staccato,
others piodiums always knew more,
my confession nonetheless
the adverbial cow will land  
somewhere close I  hope
to feel your clasp chancre

The cobwebs in the kitchen
buys realisation
nothings perfect.
At times it feels I am
looking  down from this cupboard
and the marbled floor,
feels  like a  colliding world
The spoons are spectres of ghosts present,
as the moon inversely reflects
with wings  to fly
another tempest cup of sorrow

How could snowdrops be said  
in the same poetic breathe as blue February?
But Anna  has learnt
its best to trust her own instincts.
She never believed in canopies
foral invitations were never her thing
just the cold sun streaming
on her blind-side
strolling,
Nye nervously trembling
for the right inspiration.

Sentimentality cries for the forsook
ardent feelings fail to match the  dawn
Haven't we all been burned
the splendour is dim,
eyes once willing
but the mists film over again
the corneas lustre clouded
as we the unsettled slip away
from others scrunity

What has this day
promised ?
that I shall call good,
it is neither primrose or succulent
perhaps its cloaked in a thick skin
an unmerited fist,
alas -
simple turns from  fortune.