In an oasis
where gentle families go
a cafe where modern life is overhead,
an American Father unconvincingly tells
his youngsters this is a gender neutral country
his missus is silent.
A lady is on her laptop
whilst deftly handling a mobile.
This talks of  marketing
making a niche.
Her fortune assured, sitting amongst
the yummy mothers
a mini boom of sorts

Indian Summer
see the seasons change
Autumnal leaves murmur
In my palm
your fingers stare
with messages no words can convey
Indian Summer
silence fills the void

Have it your own way
fragment by fragment
our journey disappears
I see  no reason
for our parting

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

Silence falls softly in these hours
Oft I wish I were a vampire
Between the void and hereafter

Night unfolds into the ether
And the siren sings her woeful song

What use is this solitude it endures
and whispers tales to surmount

Darkness this is the moment
Of plaintiff protestations  unfolding

I  am mirth,merriment
you are the solemn sackcloth of
misery

under the halogen light
a spy for another's love is reticient
he knows not what her fate will be
like so many before
His salted tears stains his cheeks,
his nemesis espied his fear
in the house of thwarted love
all is not fair
perfectly voiceless
divorce is the imminent option now

Weak backlit
a smidgeon of light on the roadside
and windows peering at me
through their homemade blanket
curtains, showing us ill-informed light
peering from the rim of the windows

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.

Pale daughters,
don't follow their familial line
or wash behind their ears
laved in white light,
they sport a smile when necessary,
compelled by a accidental mischief
pencils of exclusion,
rendered in the shade
We wouldnt go dancing on an almost air.

Pale daughters
don't follow their father's orders
or wash behind their ears
laved in white light
they sport a smile when  necessary
compelled by an accidental mischief
detentions of exclusion
rendered in the shade
They wouldn't go dancing on the almost air

You think you've got her
in the palms of your hands
But you're like two colliding Worlds
fleeting dancers in the night

She's not our everyday Lunar
but if we were lovers we could
change everything
She is a falling Angel,
a streetcar named Judgement
And the perpetual rain pours
before you can touch her shoulder

I am touch.
A rinse of saffron rice.
parable on a summers day.
A green leaf waiting to wilt.

I am journey.
From the depths of the oceans.
To rim of the bay.

The gentle blow of the wind,
that picks up the aroma of your winter wine.

It's difficult being someone
It's hard sleeping
and understanding your dreams
Once I was a contender
presiding over an imaginary foe
I will smile when I find someone
it's almost time I kissed you

You're a southern guy
you've got a heart of gold
and all you got from me
was a tapered window
to espy
Lets try and see the day as a myriad creation

Once a stray
Now comfy at home
Not a mean bone in his body
You're like porridge with prunes
Indispensable to the body regime
Cool and collected
With an underlined intelligence
I'd happily adopt you myself

I turned to the child within
and there was no prize
I tried to put a smile on my face
yet it was another shackled wall
prepositions succumb  
there are options in me
yet sadness always came first
In my uniformity
my disappointed thoughts must stop
who told you
you were a thief

Tiptoe through turquoise longues
curtain nets a  twitching
Ladies faces wistful
maybe tomorrow change
I am the breeze
cool as peaches
Houses were seen for miles
your eyes belie them
Me my friend

Chance has begone.
I've got it on my hand,
my jaded palmistry,
knows no better.
The faded story-line
tells the summation was seized

They  give us pennies for the years
we have spent
Everybody says they care
Yet cant wish away their tears
It was not hard to clamber
Speed the unconsecrated times
Seen so many chances fall from
clumsy hands
Glad to leave my youth
The river of us runs dry

Penelope Tree lived in a house
with servants by the score.
She was already the "it" girl at 16
with luxuriant eyebrows,
for someone like David
who saw her as forbidden fruit.
He made her feel kooky cool
but with the event of teenage acne coming back,
he de- mused her from his company
and now shes zenning her demise
in some fashionable pied a terre

The King's lost smile is complete
He needs his leige
And the serfs laugh
At this stupid plan

I am on my own sail
Sunny due a different way
And the child within me
Paints a pastoral day

she served  me iced tea
from her porch
the  smell of heavenly magnolia lingered,
like her locked up emotions
she was delicately bruised
but I would not rush her
no canary could I let her be
recuperation  would come in ones
unguarded moments.

reeling ruffled
she puts her hands in her head
and recounts
the streets once offered fascination
but she prefers off road
the dark seclusion of the glades
has given her a new desire

She realises what the night is for
love has set the wheels of motion
the change perfectly formed
There was much ovation

Your white petals glances
deep into  the dark
My raision d'etre being a blackbird
thrusting itself figuratively into the nightly gales

Bracken, aspirant launching
itself against the backdrop
and the gentle rain spilling
neath its hover

I like the way Peter is sitting,
his eyes are very expansive
he reminds me of a solo climber
effervescent with pride
joyous on his return
His gist is simple Buster Keaton
with a straw hat
and there is  always Sunday theatre
to gallivant to
with my earnest Friend.

When he wants to rest
leave him there
even with three strokes
you're heading for his intractable claws,
that in time you realise is more than play
but common assault, drawing  blood
His vet had at one time looked at his nose
commenting it had a bit of Chinese,
surely not siamese
an unspoken language at your peril

Peter used to offer birds
he is no longer a  mouser
Has he tamed himself?
Now he sleeps
on his Masters bed
Has this answered a pray?
Wrapped around his own tranquility

Your the chief operator
for the tuxedos
The jewel in the crown
Balanced and assured
Peter the cat has it all
He is the creme d'creme
The after dinner speech
The cat who swims with river dolphins
a as in assurance

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

You're as nuanced as your own opinions
determined as a wanderer
who establishes his own terms,
We Surely miss you
on your sourjons
down the country mile

You walk like a svelte Prince
and are all stealth
by your collar bone dexietery
Your wishes are our privy
and we are only here
to do your bidding

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

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.

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

By the end of the night
I scrawl my name on the moon
silently on a comedown
You let me down
seemingly taking the bus the wrong way
to Dulwich village

Rachel with tattoos
video artist using k4
I see you again  tonight
with your sweet demeanor
hanging over us
We could process film together
its intricate ways profuse
and laugh at your broken OM10
with its  intermittent light fault

Under open skies,
there are no lies
looking forward not showing
you robbed what was mine forever.
Where you ever over curious,
that made you weak.
You say you are unique
but I've seen the self-pity,
chase the sun
that brought us together.

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.

Fickle in self and in nature
at least Winter is giving me a stir.
I'm already seeking daffodils and snowdrops
going to impossible  lengths
trains and taxis just to glimpse
the glory of those shortened days
where my irises softened by the mild hue
gives a wide credit to the prevailing next month

Dreamers dream child-like tales,
whilst others play.
Playgrounds full of laughter
it is cold what is happening to you
You're all alone
failed like defenses fall all the way
Lifes wink is a carousel
timeless and grey
Now you're older
find something else to do

earnestly he tells her from deep inside
the night carnival knows no slow of hand
love cannot be whispered
its as strong as the night is long,
a seamless canopy
a lichen bed  made under moonlight shadow
and  just three simple words
as tall as the sometimes mountain

Under the shade of the heavenly Magnolia
Just that once he jaded
Having noticed flocks of skylarks
venture abroad
The servant rain finds its path
And soon his hands separate the soil
Mother Earths' plowman
Her banished son
Continues his labour

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.

Half of the world is enraptured
the other half unblissful
Some of us are dreamers too.
who longed for big words
like stucco and maladriot.

Others think a roar makes them statuesque
We should be gentle with our critique
and enjoy writing outside circles.
to leave the comfort of dependency

Precious will only make you redress
spell check for wastrels
disparaging re-born dyslexics
you have the right to be proven probable

The Tory whale flounders on the seashore
The young have lost respect for politics
The Boris factor has contaminated the gene pool
And now the Torys have a feel for entitlement
in the shape of  Sunak,  Tory boy hereditary
Wealth doesn't make for noblesse oblige
it goes for Green cards
and now Truss in her Thatcher grandese guise
is coming second best
God protect us from these collasal beasts

The Torys aren't fit to govern their lesser sums
Red walls will relapse
Labour will ensure,
and Blue Walls will  fall
with SLD  bricks to replace.

PM rescued by Civil Police
with a parliamentary redacted procedural withdrawal
questionable Ukrainian WAR WAR diplomacy
cost of living Inflation by stealth

Will I ever find another you?
where do I search for my Hampshire muse?
your flowing red hair forever autumnal.
We walk the New Forest
you show me the language of glistening leafs,
the ripple of streams cascade,
where wild horses drink.
Togetherness by the runes.

All the prayers were young and yellow.
uninformed  and adrift,
My marvel bust burst.
Yet I cried for all the nameless
on the narrow endless road.
My defences were shaking,
yet I still said hello.
A craven blackbird spoke volumes.
My moral compass presided over a rock and hard place.

What a friend we have in time
all the gifts to be foretold
I have seen the Northern star
from an alleyway
and chased the phrases lined from your lips
and ushered each syllable
We can make a reason for laughter
but if you go, alias
like a dried leaf
floating neigh  on the riverbed
I have only one wish
like a falling teardrop
to wake at nine
coffee in bed with you

a man cries 365 days a year
for want of his daily touch of peach
But im a prickerly pear
breed to be immune from male guilt
but if youre nice im soft inside

our emerald princess
graces the night,
banquets with the Lilly's,
her heart is pure as the snow
no darkness pervades in her
accustomed company.
She dwells by the sea
in her esteemed shell house.

Dusk will wash away hope
as sometimes day labels lives journal
as the eloquence  of fools
but the nights emerald light
will chide the constant promise for resolution
permanently unfinished.

Lord you are our maker,
who daily gives his love and kindness,
protect us against those that deframes your righteousness,
grant us civility  and the rod of justice
to carry your deeds