the moon treads a path gently woven,
clouds gather their rain and their sighs,

the sea with her flowers  and  sirens
below the grey swag of the skies,


the sea drifts out far like a sail boat,
in love with the sky and the wind,

the wild surging breeze hits its high note,
with all the lights dimmed.


the love that we had lies half buried,
blows as soft as the wind through the grass,

the bird that the sky always carried
a ghost of the air that does  pass  


love squandered, love hungered, devoted,
as jealous as jealous can be,

love frozen forever  emotive,
once prisoned now free.


a love soon believed for its sweetness,
romantic, delicious and wild,

a sacrifice e’er  e’er  grievous,
hearts lonely that once were  beguiled,


muse singing of love now departed,
washed out like a rose in the frost,

waste lovers left soon broken-hearted,
love won and then lost.


love more of dark midnight’s soft flowers
more of twilight and shadowy bones,

death’s minstrel  that sings in the bowers,
kings seated on dragons and thrones,


love open and timeworn , delightful
as seas breathing of cloud bursts and mist,

uncanny, blood-berried,  insightful
and drowned with one kiss.


brought back from where the wild sea wandered
stood out like a bird on the sands,

love guilty, then freed though still squandered,
like courantes followed by sarabands,  


love full of the delights of the morning,
or evening where dark blossoms grow,

where the thunderous waves are still storming
and poetry flows.


wild whispers of love and strong passion,
on the wind that once gathered the storm,

loves whispers once alive and now ashen,
refusing to comply or conform,


the dark of the night finds its firefly,
a star that now falls from the sky,

strange dusk, stranger song than the sea’s sigh,
where the lonely ghosts die.


and love always finds the new morrow,
like a waif of the sky and the sea,

finds sometimes delight or great sorrow,
lives and breathes in the dark memory,


remembers those days once  so gifted,
believed in and lived in and free,

where the swallows broad wings were once lifted,
flying desolately.


love lost and yet sadly remembered
in the last golden pools of the sun,

as the sunset is no longer tethered
by the clouds that still run and then run,


love always of nightfall soft  breathing,
magnolia moons set alight,

love never all lost, now just sleeping,
enchanting  and bright.

it was me who destroyed carthage of the ancient worlds in 1300bc. the way i destroyed carthage was this. my mother was a persian queen and carthage wanted persia destroyed. my mother did not want her husband killed so she sent me, her eldest child, to the war. i told them that if they looked into my right eye they would think it was very beautiful but if they then looked into my left eye, which was my most beautiful eye, for i was left-handed, even as most creative people are even back then, they would notice it was even more beautiful.
i then said if i wanted to be a little kind to them they would want to be very very kind to me. they liked me and tried to show me their great kindness but the truth was that they had been so unkind to their children with bad magics involving rings that they died instantly. that is how i destroyed carthage.

jealous boy,
the moon fits
well in her old clothes,

your love full of
sighs, full of dreams,

when i touch your hair
how the world spins!

you are my ******,
my sweetheart,

sunken like a falling star,
i love you more than the sea,

tonight, jealous boy.

with their beautiful
yellows and blacks, turning
lion-hearted faces to a
southerly breeze, eyes
focused on the sun,
wedded to god and light,
their suns, a river of
dream,
their moons, the
thin drops of water
hanging on them
like rain on a stain-
glassed window.

loving a ghost boy,
brown, gentle eyes,
dark flowing hair,
you magnetise me,
love soft as the sky,
enigmatic, beautiful,
out of a shadowy night
your love finds me,
and i find you,
ghost boy,
boy that i love.

you are unbearable
sweetness, raindrops
falling from a cloud,

the dreams of the night
as they sing, desolate
as a lonely star, beautiful
as a glistening sea,

you are the sweetest
fire that burns full of
love,

everything of me
cannot exist without you,
boy of love.

these clouds like follies,
these moons like watery
ghosts, flooding, light
like a swollen stream, the
golden glow escapes, exhumed
like an egyptian mummy,
its laundry the white sheets
of the world, its apparition’s
the reticent clouds of the dark.

the rain clouds wait,
woven from sea and
lake, drowning in
their dreary darks,
uninspiring and tedious,
their grey metals stretch
like sheets of steel,
they gather the storm
on their lips, snort
like a bull leave us
treading gingerly, unwilling
to risk standing them down.

where love is,
everything of my heart,
the earth breathes in
deep sorrows or red,
moving like a winter
cloud, burning ashes
like moods, sweeter
than the yellow roses
of autumn.
drift into me, sink into me
until i am a rose of the sky.

the clouds drift
like silver rivers,
the rain trickles-
crushed petals of silk.
the little valleys of
sky ruffle like leaves.
the autumn is a
diamond sky-
crisp and cold.

the autumn broods,
moody, full of leaf.
the sky sinks like
a silver ghost,
drinks its pools of
frost, its moments
full of dream.

white as a sheet the day’s
ghosts fade like an
old photograph.
the rivers of the day
tremble and drown
with the rain that
falls and falls.
i am a mosaic,
a floor made of
tiles, ashen with
autumn reds.

we dream like
an autumn sky,
shining in the
waters of a
haunting moon.
i put my
hand in yours,
get that rush
of fever, eye
seeking eye,
lip seeking lip,
leg seeking leg.

red leaves,
hollows of water
and sun,
bright reflections,
the day drifts
opens the afternoon
like a love letter
softer for its layers
of bronze.

there is too much rain,
the last leaves
fall, the sky is a wilderness,
full of yellow and bronze.
the day is hung over,
drowns like a sinking tide.
i love you, forever,
tell you my love is yours,
that i love you forever,
forever, every part of me
still in love.

the sky rises up, gathers
her midnight greys, her
ghosts the whiteness
of the moon, her
silhouette the
night fragments
flowing with the tide.
we drift dream-like,
unwind like a blossoming
rose, the sea like a mooning
skull, haunted, silver-rimmed.

built of tarmac road and
lizard king his song was
the end of summer,
the last summer where
the light had to leave but
somehow he left us fused to
it, intoxicated, blown
forever into our
subconscious minds
where it sunk like the
anchor of a ship.

the summer
melts into corners
and doors, unsettles
its ghosts.

the flowers blush
and burgeon, wild
grasses blow in the
wind.

the sun shrinks the
land, blasts the heathers
with their purple blooms.

everything seems to
be blossoming, the clouds,
the sky, even our love.

the summer’s great lizard hides
under a rock,

the summer sings of ending days, of
lonely horizons and crystal seas,

we smoulder in the sunshine
where the clouds flow in their

drifting streams, their ridges like
colossal ledges on the mountains

of the world.

summer has burned up,
blown past, the thermometer
sinks stone-like, its silvers
dulled in metal tombs
no longer spiking red.

the wet leaf hangs lower
on the twig, the bird balances
on the branch, the day
fragments, its grey clouds
flowing under swiftly
closed doors.

the stars tremor in the water,
breathe of sky and silver bird,

the night is a closed eye, a
river of frost
where the dark, born
of root and shaded dream,
stretches like a flower;

the shadows lengthen
dissolve into wooden gate
and hollowed out tree.

the night’s stones weigh
heavy like the cloud.

everything sinks.

the cry of a bird like
the shiver of a stream,
water-thick, eerie as
a ghost.

the heady scents of the night
speak of surrender,
of lost horizons,
of windows flung
open to the stars.

a cat wires his claws to the
dark, drops down from a wall,
lands with his fur full of sky.

sweet night, with
your summer blaze
and shoulder of dusk,

your wings fly up,
crave the sky, flung
into shadows, brooding

like the cattails in the pond,
your breezes are bright
domes, scented by the moon,
your clouds, hidden mirrors.

the night with its sandman
and rivers of dream, hangs
pendulous and remote,
cools like a mist far from
the day with its
sun of fire and withering
heat, its ghosts the shaking
clouds, its flowers the trickle
over rock of a burgeoning
stream.

the sea sings its august notes,
curtsies and prances like
a two year old colt,

believes that the wind
forgives its cold voice,
rises and falls –

its icy engines strong warriors
battling beneath the clouds,

its flowing barrels voices
of gossiping steel.

when we first met, when you
crossed the star-lit skies to

meet me (poetically) and i tried to
hide, (not poetically) knowing

somehow what was going
to happen, you said, “hi, my

name’s michael” and thought
(because i asked you later) “there

is no way she’s ever going to like me”
and i tried to play it cool thinking

“i will die, i will die forever, if he
doesn’t return my love.”

the clouds shake out their
sheets, muse like a poem,

tremble in the hollows
of the dark. the rain

cries on the roof-tops,
cool as a moon beam,

beautiful in its heavy
dew, while the sky wears

its eyeliner like an egyptian
queen, its hieroglyphs a lost
world.

"where love is a ghost and a star"

play with me,
loosen my hair,
let me sing to
you a sea song
where the waves
somersault and
crash to the shore,
where the wind, wild
as wild, faints to breathe
in the darkening sky.

"where the night clouds ebb and flow like a tide"

the clouds roar their
thunder, balance
against the sky like a
set of scales
while the rain,
heavy and dreadful,
soaks the hot ground turning
the trickling stream back into
a buoyant wave chattering
to rock and silver leaf
of summer’s blossoming
dream.

love poem
"where love is a wave that splashes on the sand"

when a heart
loves
the stars surrender
to the heavens,
the moon catches her breath
and the avenues
of silence become
voice. i follow the
path to my love,
i die for him,
i live for him,
like a spartan
in the heat of battle,
like a flower in the
mist.

the bright sky is wrapped in
summer, we no longer wait
for flower or ghost,

a miracle of light, the tongue
of the sun flicks like a snake,

the world is gaudy, hung in
petal chambers, where the sky
ripples like a blue pool,

the heat is deafening and blinding
its love a turquoise bird
blasting the earth with
its wings of fire.

Surrounded by peals of
thunder,
Little Cat rides the tree,
Gripping with talons
****** deep in the wood
Lashed by the wind that
blows no good,
Soaked by the rain,
So misunderstood,
Then lightning strikes,
Oh!
Poor Kit-e
'spose she'll make a
change,
From KFC.

the iron gate sings of roses,
water and moon tremble and sigh,

the night breathes in its water colours,
shadowy and whimsical like a bird of
dark air,

its eye-sockets the moon-world
of dream,

its clouds the stream-golds of
the glistening, eventide moon.

i see your stars, glazed
and fearless, glistening
like a spectrum

and i understand wonder,
that life is that sharp intake
of air.

there are no ghosts
in the sky,

my tabby cat wears the moon,
curled into the corner
like a sleepy fog,

the dreamscape is made
of silver and gold,

you (like always)try to get my
attention and i (like always) ignore
you, trying to write
my poem…

bird of wood and grass
built of darkness and
yellow beak, incredible

sentry of lawn,
poseur of dawn,

stone-shod mover,
hopscotch lover,
ellipse of heaven,

shadow of the
witching hour,

carrying the wings
of evening like
a worm in his
sultry mouth.

luminous, like an incandescent
star, you fell into my life,

unwrapping me like gift paper,
wearing my fabrics like those

boyfriend jeans you liked
me to put on.

i melted like ice in
the liquids of your voice,

tore open the love letter
you wrote on my heart

and collapsed, an exquisite
and beautiful rose, with the

longing in your eyes, tender
and delicious, every sense

awakened, every joy believed.

tonight i can't write poetry,
a star is just a star.

summer’s petals
sink perfect, fall into dream

on their night-bed, soothed
by a purple dew,

honey-sweet, like the
drift of a cloud,

the night is a bird with
gorgeous wings while the

moon paces the world
like a garish cat.

the summer sings its
orisons, prays like a
priest,

star petals melt,
flowers blossom
and die,

i’m all at sea,
glazed by the sun -
a high note of yellow
in an angelic and
gorgeous sky.

sea, soft harbour of summer,
where the breezes drift
and the dawn tide pales like cloud.

summer’s roses bloom
while the dawn tide pales like cloud
and sweet breezes drift.

where sweet breezes drift
the dawn tide pales like cloud, the
rose of summer blooms.

i’m crazy in love,
your lips eternal greys,
your eyes lost birds
fluttering into dark skies,

we cry and crash, mould
our dreams into new worlds,
uncover lost cities and lonely
isles,

reinvent stars and moon,
lie close, dance into
the night,

our flowers, our gleaming eyes,
our ghosts, the drifting clouds.

the stream is a breeze of
blue stars, layered in sweet
melancholy, layered in
sadness and love.

the world revolves like
a wheel, burgeons like
a flower, weeps like a
sorrowful cloud.

i yearn for you, down
misty lanes and dreams of
dark seas, fall until
i can no longer fall,

fall until our love blossoms
and our hearts cry out.

the sun, bold as an eagle,
stretches its wings,

the summer is like a
lizard basking in the
brightening light,

it is like a mid-day dancer
drowsy with the
flowers of day,

the pools of shadow
purr like a cat, yearn for
a cooling saucer of milk.

hot as a roman spa,
the day fragments
hits its searing top note,

the blissful breeze
waves a flag,

the sky, the sun’s captive,
is all slumber and mouth,

i swallow the dust,
watch a butterfly
land with the wings of a god.

i’m carved out of stone,
my heart windswept
and wild.

i wind and unwind the stars,
hide in sweet caves.

summer unlocks her doors
opens shutters far-flung
in a distant sky.

your love draws me nearer,
scatters me like rose-dust,
attracts like the dreams of the night.

hot, hot sun, golds and yellows,
sky like a tranquil lake,

in the cave-like hollows of the wood,
the smooth leaves glide,

shadows, falling like dark water,
cooled by a wanton breeze,

sink like a gentle flow of air
woven out of breathing silk and the

dim space that catches its breath -
collides with the sun –

hangs dampened branches out to dry.

the stars lie on the water,
shimmer as night bleeds
all its blacks like a dark root,

summer’s yellows are now
forgotten, darkness chisels
water and sky,

blossoms stony and grey
like a colossal and
beautiful flower.

the summer roses
flower then unsettle,
crumple in the storm,
blow red to brown.

where the night carries her silence,
her greys the bridging dome of sky,
her stones their blossomed ridge-

the moon’s half-circle bends
amid cloud, steps in
staccato, where the
stars can’t be seen;

i am less than the cloud
and the sky,
hardly breathing,
moon-ghosts in my hair,
moon-opals in my belly.