White foam
temperamental tommorows
One more jour
Seagulls cross paths
The warp of sometimes
and the broken rhythm of shingles
till the dusk answers itself

in the stillness of winter  
the dark city annoints
obscure spirits flying by.

Down the dusty lane
The Wind she calls my name
Good enough to count the sleeping hamlets
She puts a smile on my face
lit by childlike candles
Tidier with bloom
She unfettered my gloom
a gushing  bride

My name is Michael O'Brien.
I live in the woods,
with squirrels for my only company.
I've got no need for anyone,
im a crusader for loneliness
although im not the only one.
There's Peter ORaugherty,
who lives in a cave
with rabid bats only for company.

The butterflies flight
comes through fields of leaves.
A damp fizzle dampens the throat.
The air is aimless
and full of dust.
The grass swathes amongst the thickets.
The stiff trees murmurs memory
once galloping antelopes on the hoof
clandestine in the lonely morning air.

Spring grants us it's golden daffodils,
swathes of honesty from the window.
Spring is neigh.
The world pledges it's amen.

my sweet acorn laid there,
to feel your love
the thirst is spoken.
let it go on this way forever,
this dewy feeling,
with your wild acres
and cool brown hair.

Novels are great,
reading  is more than a treasure,  
its a pleasure entering another world,
Empathy with the characters is the be all of it.
Your inner voice, the heard sanctum.

Harlequins have fated feelings
on the trapped excess of desire
fire the shot!
to wing a pray
and asunder to Caesar his scarlet remnants
Words on the scale!
Past King's emblems
shimmer way past
and  the subterfuge of romance
learns the price of nails
Judgment smeared by decree
a child's mystifyingly  cries

once more to the coast
to rekindle our relationship,
braving the dunes,
that so much reminds of our travails.

I'm as picqued as winter
and so let down,
you shouldn't leave me on my own.
Dyslexic's back story unreviewed,
a lack of recognition of your fellow beings feelings.
You didn't understand the part seconds
of the shutter speeds.
You were confused
and criticized your last teacher
although having no knowledge of the professed present.

where do you go to when you're old,
like being at Clacton in November,
the swirl of the waves conjoure Shangri-la.
Quelle surprise.
As the months go by,
the whole lot is thrown to the winds,
lost your allotment!
the young always get what they want,
but never appreciate  the waiting game
nor can you count on health every day,
just like your Lazarus cat for a nifty vets fee.

In his yellow straw hairstyle mask
this Eton Mess
overpays water canons
and recites on the Road to Mandalay
on diplomatic missions
This man is not a leader
a roasting clown apparition
He partied during COVID lockdown
and accused Starmer of a falsehood
He dreams of leveling up
but as a diehard Toff
he has no idea of class

We could go down the Spectre and Crown
where all the punters would admire your
white boots and penguin suit
Then we could go to the London Zoo
where you'd hear the hubris of
the laughing hyenas
and your whiskers would react deftly in the air
recalling some ancient fear
Then for the weekend, we go to Blackpool
and you'd taste one of the roller coasters
using one of your ample cats' lives

If I were you
and you were me ,
would you make as much sense
as I made of you?
If aye was nay  
what a convoluted situation
it would be.

Lord our peacemaker
teach us eternal light,
to breathe your wonders,
enriches our heart.

Josephine will bake for you
and iron your clothes,
but never call her fancy free
for she has much love for you.
Build her dreams by making
her a greenhouse ,
where she can grow her asters
and think of the stars,
glistening so brightly
for someone so natural.

Assorted Photographs E6 C41's B/W
the freedom to chose.
Analog photography,
so composite for the waiting completionist.
Central weighted or average metering
there's a modernist matrix too,
and manual focusing.
Selenium, CDS, or silicon photocells.
Hybrid shutters or cloth curtains.
This is the playground for  the eager:
creativity for patient users.
Incident or reflected light
to avail,
country scenic wonderers

over the hill there's a shinning,
taking me from the darkness of the night.
Get yourself together
and see what you can find,
champagne toast
when I'm out of town,
golden daffodils hanging down.

Its the dawn of a long blade,
turning alongside the grass.
It was the hope of another day,
walking on bare feet,
like sandalwood.
climbing the waterfall.
Those memories turn like pages,
like the first gust of rain,
scented like leather
dusty and brown.

You are the past perfect picture
I took before the war
The frillitary of the dead follows:
hiding your grief up your sleeves.
I am gaunt with worry
like  waking the dead with love,
kissing them before they were gone.

she's buried her hopes,
somewhere far from home.
Daddy was a dreamer.
Mother scrubbed the floor .
The dog has a bone to bury
and lets pretend that the day is long
as it is drawn
with the customary cold spot in the night

Witches homebrew
Toad of frog fantastical
the tongue of dog snarling
High on octave,
blind snakes gather too
Howls of another's dream
The old crow crinkles
The Headless cutter reigns
Bats blood swirls
Swallows on a wing
Roots of hemlock persist

The garden shows its awkward face
cultivated by the gardeners hand
the beauty of the happy life
whose soil is upturned
Buddleia stumps strongly strung by survival
Alacanta loitering the floorspace
picked by fork
once sturdy Lavatera cut to the base
to begin the December cycle anew

They masquerade as a Plethora of Businessmen
incorporating a bastion of QC's
with a palliative cure
to balance the books
and create wealth
the trickle-down effect

But instead of that
they return  us to Dickensian times
Soup Kitchens
Food Banks
and dwellings collapsable
North-South divide!
Have they really a Commission for care
or is it just inflation
a bufflers air?
an abdication  of feelers

She came from the rising  star Jupiter
She lay in fields of marigolds
Seeing the future bright
a rapture of the heart
Her dream was bestrode manifest.
A case of a swan in the sunny climes

Searching for  the woodman
to espier an union
and produce a moon clad offering
to cherish as the dawns break
Jupiter rising

They've taken away my mojo
Besmirched my living rhythm
The colors have run dry
one and one make three
Is there a catchment area?
Is there anybody to help me?

Autumn Days
stirring like moldy leaves
I have become a discounted man
Who will tend my overgrown garden?
I was brought to my knees
as I ran out of time
Why must everything fade away?

And it rains here,
with the soak of grass
between my toes.
Blessed  lichen mounding
on tree stumps.
The Magical sun ascends
upon the hill.
My soul is replenished.

Today I heard the dancing of the wind,
salty air upon my clothes.
I braided with nature,
like sandals and clay
forever in rhythm.

Heavenly abandon
I want to sing for you
You were searching for a friend before
the second snow
Two can come together
but love can bring you down
unless you're the one to free me
walking down the streets of paradise
country home comfort

Lord our maker,
who gave us the Garden of Eden
and choice to commit original sin
grant us your  understanding
and shower your love and kindness
leading us from temptations

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.

Your smile has cracked
like a country mile
Your voice has not been heard
for a length of time

Reflected in the water
is your gaze
like a chased reynard
you're a spent force


What does the wind want from you?
wrapped up in your own world
Until you realize the blame was yours alone
dipping your fingers into the ash
playing sunlit with your future

The Fridge is buzzing like an engine ready to take off,
maybe because the freezer is empty.
The kitchen floor is covered with  newspapers
The old carpet has been pulled off
all we need is a lino to finish the job.

Heard a song about you on the radio.
Its never too late to relate.
You were high willed and a bright orchid,
a contented yin and yang.
I could never leave you,
remembering when it all began,
you're were a friend of the band,
two-second snows from colorado,
from the moon, I fly you;
some kind of poet,
sealing her heart in mine,
breathe in you'll be the bay,
who put a rose on my cheeks.

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

A man is a rusty pylon
ruffling the electricity
And we sing Elijah
watching the sunnier chimes

A novice is like a rose
barbed to the counterpoint
He riles like a clown
when his future is a welter

A journeyman  is like a priest
haggling all the untruths
he blames when someone strifes

In the cool of Indian summer,
in the country of leaves,
lit mildew and cobwebs
on the verge,
bespoke sandals on the lane.

Remember who your best friend was?
Now he lies refused
deckled like a bird.
The pages blew, out of proportion.
The broken year will not change,
the kiss of the bright curl of the leaves,
and where was your second chance?

I could say hollyhocks are a firmament
their palmate leaves abound.
From  my shuttered room with a single bed
and ginger-cat for company.
in a letter, I could  say I love you
with your cuisses pommelées
and shoulders held back,
walking in the snow
on a cold winter's night.
Hollyhocks I've been jealous
over certain girls  who parley  in French
the words of l' amour.

The bulbs were Dutch pedigree
Narcissus Blue for a late Winter bloom

The Queen of consternation,
gadfly cries alone in her unmade bed
as love becomes an afterthought
its words trickling the soul

Blue and green, its skeletal throw over
shrouds Spring

If you hear what I'm  thinking
is it time to go ?
Timed out of dreams
a recurring night
Pourquoi in a most extraordinary way

Waiting for an answer
I knew of his ruggered handsomeness
I am the epitaphic thief of time
His painted smile beckoned me
I could walk back to my home

like a copse in the shrub
the dandelions' flutter
the brackish waters ripple and reverberate
as the bare branches
tired of the wind
dance askance

Like a giant balloon
that cant be burst
you've rejected me again.
It starts with a click of interest
on your profile page,
pursuing is virtual
like a  voyeurs' pinhole,
vague and dissected,
yet avoiding contact,
no personal messages are sent

If they meet you
I recall a heavy burden,
of them not replenishing the hour,
coming with heavy overloads,
time warry or just plain preoccupied,
not generous with their time:
a discord of anothers hope

An anxious rain invigorates the morning,
sound the burgle!
Autumn's fruit is falling,
like a beat of a drum.
Drystone walls murmurs
their ancient story
over the coppiced lined hills,
where ancient oaks stand stocially
amongst the wistful stars.

I am getting tired of your rumors
and I can't hold to my dreams
Once, a contender, I am tired of being asleep on the wheel
The Sunshine should make good hay
Yet our days have been useless
as a story told
You had black hair
now it has turned to grey

I've forgotten to cry
to hold the day in my palm
The Sun cannot provide a setting
cannot hold onto my dreams

Winter comes like a thwarted bride,
dispensing her sullen wares
snow sunken ha ha's languishing,
meet Jack Russell midtone,
iced cold hubris of the fallen leaves,
with shadowed pavements
cloudy oval Moon,
stripped trees like painted black pylons
unyielding hard clumpy soil.
Stark Raven searching scavenged food,
no velvet fields
evading the princely capture
of a starry night.

Sing between the silence.
Eyes alone cannot identify the plenty  from the dearth.
The sky bobbles,
its another way of shedding time


Similies and metaphors
twilight each other.
Words are  just a woeful way
to express yourself
and at times a lark
The night is so full of platitudes
longer than your blink.

You're really not something else
You're a  copy of the M42  Spotmatic
with stopped down aperture too,
but it's your metering that is a first  
two concentric green half circles converging
for perfect exposure
making you something of a curates egg

Begging eyes
asking for loose change
you are faminised

You can't  fish in the sky blues
youve misspent your life in detention
so get used to the jamboree

Jen, I want to support your platitudes!
your mediation renders,
no troubles from you
no goading, within your star
kindness fashions your heart.

Down Sidcup, they are planning mind games
without a safety net for me
We are hot desking
during  a railroad strike
and have a muddling southeastern rail service to boot!
We are going the long way to work
London Bridge is being redeveloped
The tension is brewing like a bout of cholera
We are being punished for events
outside our control.
Its the survival of the fittest
the most local win
But some of us are tadpoles
out of our depth