moon-ghosts and iron roads,

the night is full of white bones,
skulls in my jacket,

the horizon scurries to
free itself drawing in
its breath,

there is nothing earthly here
no love, no bird knotting the sky with its wings.

the skies ebb and flow,

the unquenchable harmonics
of a lonely violin,

tenderness and flowers,
impressionism and ghosts,
layers of clouds rushing....

the brocades of the day
wrapping its skirts to
ankles that stride
like the wind.    

jealousy like
smouldering fire,
always wanting you
most.

blossoms of ink,

the sighs of
spring's new
leaves looped
around the
sky,

the land filling
with the gold
arch of the sun,
white flowers
on the branches,
the ground
strewn with ivy
and green moss,

mute sun rests
in the sky,
the light pretty
joys painted in
the mind, pale
whispers of
shiny white,

gorgeous sea,
sings to
the soft flowers,
the waves start
to blossom,
blossom like
the boyish wind,

or drive on forever
like singing
rain.

the sea flows in,
rolls thunderous waves
against the shore until the
sands are buried in the
deepening water
and the grey rocks
can no longer be seen.

each wave is like
the row of an audience
in a theatre, whistling to
the shrieks of the wind.

it is winter and the
rushing tide
melts in the cold
below a steely mist
that the broad sky
wears like a mask,
gathering her skirts
of cloudy inks.

i hear the water fall
and i sense that i’m alone
with the crying tide,
watching as it speeds
to the shore, spraying
its foamy mist
in the air.

i am isolate, drowning
in the cloudy thunders
of the waves, hearing
the mighty barrels
hiss and whir, dreaming
of love.

fwoah again advises that unless your family have lived in england for the last 300 years you are not allowed to live in britain unless you are the following
chinese
irish
scot
welsh
french
indigenous  english
ara­b
indian
japan
singapore
indonesia
italian
spanish


all african
persian
iranian
australian
usa
south american
canada
phoenetian
all europe as long as over 300 years in britain
the following are not welcome and
must leave
german mafia
Brazilian mafia
pakistani mafia
norwegian mafia
portugese mafia
and newzealand mafia

we descend
untidy birds fallen
so low there is no song
of birds.

i.

in the air
the sweet flow
of a bird.

ii.

drawn, perfect blossom,
the wind that refuses to settle.  

iii.

november’s fine golds
melt like clouds.

iv.

i burn for your kiss
like a bird that stays
with a boat
my lips seek your lips
forever.

fragments of the moon,
watery night,
out of the darkness
a flower unfolds.

the moon, shrunken, faint
as pencil, as if the wild nettles
of night carried her loads.
her glazes the raptures of
dancing stars.
her stencil mark a white crescent
leant on cloud.
the trees shudder in the
wind, break their promises,
forgive no one.  
the tide listens to her rhythms,
traps them in water, distils
her victories, unwraps the dark,
stretches it out.

where the night
scatters into the
leafy forests
and hides behind
the thundering rocks.
where the night dreams
of blue tides and grey skies.

dreams that soften,
calming the mind
until it sighs like a ghost.

"where love is.... a jealous girl
of the wind."

i.

falling like a leaf
that sings to the sky
the cresting wave
draws down,
the honey sea
a miracle of dance.

ii.

deep vision of blue,
caves of grey iron,
the waters pool,
drifting with the
icy wind.  

iii.

sharp vowel of
frozen earth,
the songful
depths of winter
sink like the seas,
the dark notes
of the clouds an
accent above the
vaulting hills.

iv.

i sink like the seas
before your love,
my knees trembling,
my legs aroused,

i am a storm that
gathers the
horizons of your
sky, burnt into the
honeycombs of
the wind full of
winter
song.

v.

the sky must sigh,
the wind whisper
to the sea; “take
me home.”

vi.

i see you and my
body melts, your
love the breath of
the sea, the magical
tides of the clouds.

boy of dream,
the colours melt,

your lips finding mine,

beneath an ashy sky,
where the shadows lean,

your fire finds mine,
your kiss as beautiful
as a summer rose.

you are star, you are moon,
a blur of white in the rounded night,

tranquil as the narrow streets at nocturne,
where the tall streetlight breathes

its half-moon yellows, love flowers
behind frosty windows; behind

avenues of dark stone and gothic
eaves the dust of the moon

starts to settle, weaves a golden web.

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.

october sings to the grey hills
where the cloud fades and drifts
into the summits
like white turrets of a purple sea
captured in the moonlight,

the moon’s chandeliers glitter
with candles.

the house is better for an open fire
plumping silk cushions
on a ragged sofa,
(they are best worn out with love)

midnight wears an evening gown.

the rain sinks into the
white walls and the
beech hedge,
has its own pitter patter
like bare feet running
through a wood,

the sky's hair is high upon her head.

lapping waves
the kiss of the water
the fire of the sun.

when you broke me the first time
i cried until the tears pooled
into the dark.

when you broke me the second time
i just broke you back for hurting
me so bad.

i break easily because i love
i break easily because i love you.

"where night is....love in the shadows or the freedom of the wind"

night, dark shadows swept
under the trees that scatter
whispering that they are
soaked in the ice-breath
of the sky,

the night has fled,
her dreams the fleeing
wind, questioning the
skies where the clouds
fade to nothing, kings
of the crumbling hills,

if i tell you i love you
you'll always love me
back because it is in my
seams, seamstress that
i am of island flowers
and strange ghosts,
flower of ink where
the darkness flows away
and the stars trace their

silver maps. i hold all my
love in a quiver and like
a god i'll slay you with
just one arrow if you
ever leave me like a dust,

link my arm as we walk
so boldly through the
dark shadows of the
night, where the wind
flees and the moon
steers her way through
our passions and trials,

we cry out to the wilderness
that breathes us,
and while i cry i kiss
your neck, your eyes
your lips.

honey gold
sea, swift, the drifting
tide, thrown, water
breathes, love,
the sweet taste
of our passion
our love
all the jealousy
in the world.

"where night is... the burying cloud"

the sea glistens, dark waves
melt along the coast, crashing
onto the beach, dreaming
of summer love and
shimmering star.

i dream of you,
taste your lips
like cherry-steel,
consertina like
a paper lantern
played with
by the breeze,

my lips give way
to your lips,
love to your love,
everything is
shiny like a silver
bowl,

carry me like a
stream to the
waves of your love
and i'll melt there
forever, my love,
just for you.

the stream is a pretty
mirror, the sky, sweet
sister to the moon,
slumbers in her
arbour where roses
flower mightily, in
love with the night
and the cloud.

it was near the cricket field,
stitched into the ground -

amid clover and tufts of grass -
a little ring of white mushroom,

longing for the night sky,
for the journeying cloud,

sweetened by flower and dust,
where the little fairies danced,

balancing on the air -
weaving the moonlight like cloth -

with their drowsy feet
and wings of blue stalk.

"where day is....an opening door'

black lined eyes,
purple-red lips
cheeks of rose
and broken petals,

summer sings of
green feverish leaves,
of a hot sun, of my
longings.

twisting lizard
scales not skin
iron-like, unhinged
and re-hinged, threadbare,

cardboard sun, smartly
stitched like a brown bear,
woken from a trembling
night of crimson stars,

torn up paper, song
of love, hot bird,
sparrow at an angle.

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.

poetry flowing
scattering its joy
and sorrows.

as dark eyes close
the harbour
waits for the moon
to unlock
its hidden silence.

wrapped beneath
september stars
a ghost that watches
where the water
drifts.

the yellow pools
of the sun, mists
on a summer day,
moods like clouds,
my heart lifted in golds.

my love, you wear silence like a coat
and i am left drifting like a far-out wave.
the wind tangles leaf and sky.
winter is barely noticed, the moon
is a ghost of forgotten flowers where
the night sings to the starry waters,
sings of our love. everything is sailing
like a ship in a bottle, a kaleidoscope  
of brightness, gothic hill and wildflower
ruin, flowing like a silvery stream.
do you dream of me? do you burn when
the night wraps you in her cloak and the moon
unwinds the waters of the seas?
do you dream of me?

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.

"where night is....sinking like
a sorrowful cloud or a bird of stone"

where the roses
sigh
and the honey
of your lips
melts me like
a furnace,

i burn
dreaming of roses
and skies fallen
in me like
ink pools,

i love the
angles of your
face,
the flow
of your hair,

melancholy
moods like
clouds
painted on
canvas,

love, my
bones dying
song, my
ribs like an
elephants
grave yard,
pressed to yours
drowned out
by emotions
like desolate clouds,

if i kiss you again
i'll fall down
liquid as the land
sky portrait
of blue,
against the sculptured
wall,
you know you
want me more,

as i glide, the
free girl,
how free you
make me feel
as i sink
in
the night.

the sun an arc of
flowering orange,
kiss me
as i have never been kissed.

you carry the night, merge into me
like a song of the sea,

dark night of song,
budding like an early rose,

my heart strums its
favourite chords,
dreams of your love,

when i was dark and alone
you found me,
mending me, loving me.

gold avenues of the sun
the playful wind
throws the leaves into
confusion
whispering like the
seas ebb and flow
carrying the leafy dreams of
the day
into my pockets
i drown, drown like a jealous tide
in the waves of your love.

where the moon
is longing,
the tide is relentlessness
and love is
my jealousy of you.

summer buries her
golds and yellows,
opens her soulful eyes;

the running clouds
whisper to the day,
write love notes on the
parchment sky,

you remember our love,
brush my lips with
a kiss of rose.

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.

i’ve blown all my dosh
on a brand new Bosch!
my clothes will be super clean
with this amazing new machine
i’ve burnt all my dosh
singing swish, swash, swosh,
singing splish, splash, splosh,
a ladies got to wash!
i’m in love with my new Bosch!

where leaves cascade in red and brown
and a stream sings cheerful melodies

and the last of the bright sun wanders down
and a hush falls on the honeyed breeze...


there sits beneath a shady tree
an elfin girl of the wild, wild wood  

with a dress of silk as green as the sea
and the softest feather in her hood


she dreams of her love with a carefree smile
the love that warms her girlish heart

and the wind blows soft down the whispering isles
where the tiny song-birds flit and dart


a song for the woodland green and fay
a pretty song for the inky sky….

a song to while the time away
here where the leaves of autumn lie…..

"where night is....a stream of stars or a star-lit oak"

i seem to move with
leaves, smooth as a prayer
mat with its oranges and
golds,
tangled like the rhythms
of a blues band
in the decadence of the heat,
and yet i fade, a stream
of stars, a rain drop shivering
to the floor,
the ghosts of the stars are
all of the night sky,
the blacks of the sky
hypnotic as the dark
tide of my mind,
my love for you
is like threads from this
bare prayer-mat, worn
thin and yet caught in
the tatters, i love like
a worn out bear, i love
until i can't think of
anything except you,
attracted like a papery
moth to the moon.

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.

dream of a dark
sky, where the ocean
with its gentle pull
gathers the mosses
of the waves, unravels
and drifts in gold pools
full of moon and love.

the hawthorn lays down its ghosts, thick
with dulling pink; the stream quivers,

its blue shadows sunken, gleaming,
at low ebb, breathing like a mirror

in the sun. beneath the trees it
is dream-like, cool, dark and

magical, the leaves little harbours
of breeze, voiceless, white as bone.

in the excitement
of your kiss
flowers and
dreams of
strange seas
lips of steel
dark shadowy
isles.

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.

i’m cold -
well stand in the corner
its 90 degrees!

clouds of dream
conjuring poetry
out of liquid skies
of black mind,
where the
wild rose
climbs
mists breathe
and the land
melts in shadows
of midnight blue.

"where night is...romeo at a window"

i.

black rock, gold
leaf edging a page.

ii.

night drowses its
engines dark alleys
and empty cans.

iii.

the night sinks back
like a technicolor
cartoon, blue-green,
it rolls like a film, it
sings of old love
in its fiery steels.

iv.

today i am juliet
waiting for romeo
i wait forever for
one kiss while the
sky calls out
love to the dreaming
cloud.

v.

romeo, oh, romeo,
and the night's
ghostly petals
unwind their
sweetness in the
tree-lined lanes
of the moon.

i.

the quiet of the meadows
as wildflower listens to the
babbling stream,
stones washed by the silvery
water,
the sun pressing the land into ghosts.

ii.

dusk sags like a balloon
remembers a darkening sky.

iii.

it has grown late,
poetry quivers on the
windowsill,
taps nonchalantly at the door.

iv.

the clouds turn emptiness into dreams
like morning frocks billowing on a line,

the moon walks over
sings of darkness and blue smoke,

the cold starts to sink into
the crevices, conjures its ice
like brittle honeycomb.

v.

tomorrow waits like
a hungry child,
she eats our fingers
and our hands
and we let her
for we can’t bear for her to go hungry
as she carries everything of us
forward with a little push.

dipped into water
the night full of swallow-tails
dreams of bright mirrors.

there is uproar in the kitchen.
you would think some restaurant was over-
booked and a weary chef was fighting
to deliver ten covers at once.

all i said was “i can’t get to sleep.”
he has decided to save me.
my valiant knight on horseback
is in the kitchen making something.

i yawn and sit pretty on the sofa.
it is nice to be saved and spoilt.
i start to drift away to some
distant land trying to ignore the blender.

he arrives with a large cup.
he gives this to me and hovers.
i must taste this though
i know it will burn my lips.

i can’t leave him hovering forever
so i take a sip, burn my lips
and melt with the softness of the milk,
an intimate pleasure.

my cup of love, hot milk,
cinnamon, honey, all blended
to froth and he has grated
nutmeg on the top.

i smile up at my valiant knight
and he relaxes, all is well.
i have been saved
no more dragons to fell.