A fairyland of undergrowth, with a damp musky air,
St Lawrence has a faithful oath, to cultivate and share.
A thrive of all alive, in lush green leaves of old,
The trees in mists sublime, inside a micro climate wold.

A secret world of organisms, multiplying million fold,
Where delicate microcosms, dare to be so bold.
This natural habitat, from seedlings very small,
Quenched by a water vat, chalk streams a waterfall.

Waterlogged muddy bramble slips away at will,
Fertilised to nourish, it's hard to keep it still.
Thatched cottages blend, among the evergreens,
Flowers wildly transcend, into unexpected scenes.

A house made of glass or stone, brick or thatched,
An array of different homes, wholly mismatched.
An under cliff protected, from wind and heavy rain,
Where settlers have constructed dwellings on delicate terrain.

Red rocky backdrops, contrasting in the light,
Emerald carpet covered tops, against a cliff of white.
A multitude of Cretaceous hidden footprint tracks,
Of pre-historic fossils providing us with facts.

Alum bay provides the candour, steep hill cove, the English day,
Black gang chine, the entertainment, screams above a silent bay.
The noise of nature's habits, where a gentle hush is heard,
Of scurrying little rabbits, or a cheerful songful bird

Home to Dickens and to Darwin, Carl Marx to name a few,
Alfred Lord Tennyson inspired by the picturesquely view.
The Osbournes, Alan Titchmarch, are living here today,
To escape from commerciality, and keep all fame at bay.

Well-trodden shutes take a stranger to the sea,
Along a Pirate's secret route to claim his offshore ******,
Time has not dissolved these perfect pretty scenes,
Well used in the past and still there to be seen.

A quiet friendly cloak, behind a rich and wealthy hive,
This isle of natural opulence, where many past events survived,
Ancient stone church steeples, where priests left their gold,
Built for religious peoples, as a refuge from the cold.

Take a step back in time, to unspoilt and unruly soil,
Where the elderly recline, in this haven for the Royal.
The Victorian architecture, preserved in perfect light,
An outlook of conjecture, is called the Isle of Wight.

The jingle of my chimes brings comfort in the wind
caressing cheeks upon my face and soothing everything
a tranquility in the noise of rustling bells of metal
like a tuneful triangle allowing stress to settle

A ray of summer sunshine twinkles off one bell
the sparkle squints my eye and time begins to gel
slowing pace of life simmering where upon
my feet lift off the floor, elevated in the sun

Sweet strings swishing uniquely as they play
my mind is now drifting back to yesterday  
youthful dashing with no time for rhyme to tell
or contemplate the sounds of a stupid bell

Twilight years absurdly slow down every sound
nature's profound words are suddenly very loud
appreciating land, sea, sun and moon lit skies
memories and experiences indelibly immortalise

Decaying graveyard flowers
rotting time down drains
painful memories sour the day
and only grief remains

The fading light gives way
to death's dark shadowed wake
and roses fall from loving arms
too weak to undertake

Veils cover bloodshot eyes
and whimpers turn to sobs
mourners fill the church inside
another soul's been robbed

For death denotes finality
fading time will stop
the cemetery houses many men
buried prone in their plot

There's no avoiding time's
ruthlessly ticking clock
the secret is to live your days
as if tomorrow's locked

But death is a certain path
befalling all us mortals
rejoice in life and live
realising all potentials

With pomp and ceremony, and hidden meanings, can,
Poetry with its snobbery, reach the common man?
He's never heard of Keats or cares about the word,
To live without the melody of poetry, is absurd.

Can a line of rhyme reach deep inside his mind,
Ruffle and disturb, bring him to his knees, this lucky find?
With a special message to penetrate his soul,
Enlighten his boring life, or is he dead as coal?

Can a phrase we raise, perforate his thick tough skin?
Encapsulate with heart-break his swinging brick within,
Lay him on his back to gaze at the stars above,
Smell the pretty flowers and hear the sound of Love?

Of course we can reach him, this is what we do,
All men have emotions which are hidden from our view,
One single word can be so profoundly clever,
Infiltrate the common man and steal his mind forever.







Poetry over the centuries has been written by men and women from all walks of life.
Poetry is for everyone.  Yet there is still a fear and a certain snobbery surrounding
poetry which prevents many from entering this world.

A curse on glass, as it reflects true time,
and when we look we see life in decay,
a path ensures our ultimate decline,
the ticking clock that never will delay.

And so we try to cheat the image shared,
conceal our age, adorn our fake façade,
behind the mask the clock is still prepared,
to **** our time with its cold disregard.

No mirror can reflect the inner soul,
where timeless words are written on a page,
unique is ev’ry footprint on our stroll,
like great philosophers, we never age.

The clocks preserve the moment we embark,
reflections mean that we have left our mark.

Poking through my neighbours fence
a climbing vine on smart ascent
tearing through the wooden slat
this winding spiralling acrobat

Overnight there's no curfew
it grew and grew and grew and grew
until it reached the bricks and mortar
nothing stopped it's path of slaughter

Pulling stones from their beds
it carved right through my old tin shed
this triffid is unstoppable
it's destruction is unfathomable

As I worked in my study
it tapped my window, I got worried
a leafy twig forcing entry
the grapevine fulfilling it's inventory

Next day the garland green and raw
spread across my own front door
tentacles ripping out the frame
the climbing plant drove me in sane

It penetrated through my loft
and had more stealth than Lara Croft
crept down to my sitting room
my temper bubbling to a fume

I quickly drew my secateurs      
chopping off one of it's ears
then slashing with my pen knife
before it wrapped around my wife

It was too late to stop the plot
the wine grew strong and tied it's knot
pinning me against the mat
and strangled me in a twisted plait

We witnessed the inevitable
believe it, we did not
it wasn't even charitable
something we could not stop.

The fade of night to morn
departing with a sigh
a fateful early dawn
his soul drifted to the sky.

Weeping we asked why
good men have to die
so much left to do
all we could do was cry

Vows we undertake
to keep his spirit near
we will not forsake
our thoughts were very clear

Deep in each of us
his kindness always stays
he never made a fuss
his love was true always

Trying to be charitable
believing, we did not
but it was inevitable
his death we could not stop.

Life is serious,
When freedom is at stake,
No time for frivolous comment,
Progress striving for a break.

He campaigned for the poor,
The persecuted blacks,
The fight against the white man,
Segregation were the facts.

Change was resisted,
Some died for the cause,
He was one to be respected,
And reluctant to use force.

Stubborn history of those,
Who would not budge,
Commanded by their forefathers,
To continue with the drudge.

But this man stood his ground,
Fought for freedom rights,
His ideas with a sound
Fairness in his sights.

Equality for all men
Regardless of their colour,
His heart was open,
For us to love one another.

Like a pretty bird
Colourful and bright,
Rage and jealousy,
Extinguished his bright light.

The Baptist Minister,
Changes he did bring,
Civil rights activist,
Was Martin Luther King.

Tears,
the residue of painful memory
or loving far too much
woeful sad regret
or loss of someone's touch.
A period of despondency
malaise as grief takes hold
despair or intervention
of life's tormenting scold.
A never ending game
of challenging events
no wonder tears are shed
through ducts they circumvent.
Crocodile tears are soulless
never worth a mention
genuine tears will flow
in times of extreme tension.

I questioned fate and found no answer,
As fate was unpredictable,
A doubtful fickle chancer,
Unstable and unreliable.

Reliable stability,
With chance I keep my date,
A fickle predictability,
Was my answer when I questioned fate.

In analysing Time, I decided to escape,
fed up with ageing, so a pause I want to make
so I bought a book called, 'The Power of Now'
staying in the present, it would show me how.

Connect with my inner-self to stay inside my being
not thinking of the future, concentrate on what I'm seeing,
simple tasks to stay focused in the moment
the more I read, the more I liked involvement.

I learned to step out of time dimension
that the future is just a human invention,
no salvation in the past
only the present is built to last.

The mind is an obstacle as thoughts get in the way
not thinking about time, could start to waste my day.
the more I read the words, the longer I dwelled
and realised that Time indeed, could be held.

'Now' is all important, smelling and breathing
taking time to observe and connect with my being
living in the present, not thinking of the future
blanking out the past, not remembering a picture.

I am now brainwashed, cleansed and reborn
my problems are illusions and never even form
free from constraints of the ticking clock
my mind and body are free to run a mock. . .

My drive took me to Malvies
Along a rough French road
A perfect sight delighted me
Natural sun dials stood in rows

Fields of velvet brown eyes
Looking at the sun
Gently swaying in the breeze
Halos circled every one

Like soldiers to attention
In unison with each other
The sunflower community
Are like sister and like brother

Yellow sunshine petals
Gold coins in the rough
Famously inspired
In pictures by Van Gough

My hair flowed in the wind
Breathing in the freedom
Happy faces welcome me
inviting me to see them

Sun dials follow shadow
Sunflowers pursue the sun
Gazing up to the sky
Absorbing life they've won



Inspiration:

Malvies is a very small village community near Limoux in the South of France.  I spent many Summers there and when in season, the drive takes you through amazing fields of Sunflowers which are a spectacular sight.

In the chaos of the moment time forgot
amidst a crowded room their eyes connected
the stillness of the bond stopped the clock
a path to destiny they both selected

In each other's arms their fortune set
neither knowing what future would befall
the fatal moment they did connect
and doom inscribed the writing on the wall

A whirlwind of emotion was encouraged
exhilaration and excitement fuelled the fire
physically bonding into marriage
the magnetism strong and held by wire

No one else mattered outside their world
entwined in devotion and betrothal
she yearned for freedom and new friends
fusing together began to be less social

A green eyed devil wove a shroud
destructively wielding it's hefty power
warning signs were ringing very loud
his blows lashed out and made her cower

She tried to understand his controlling fear
but his mind unstable and on fire
all that she loved and held dear
was now rotting on a funeral pyre  

One day she innocently took a call
betrayal was clear he took his gun
she could not run or even hide
one shot was all it took to stun

In the chaos of the moment time forgot
a path of destiny he had selected
the stillness of the moment stopped the clock
in her dying moments their eyes connected

Among the weeds are seeds of hate
growing at an alarming rate
and strangle good intention's throat
until it's dead by aggressive choke

Hate takes flight and whirls around
never finding firmer ground
jumping like flames from tree to tree
unyielding in it's misery

Once unleashed it cannot hide
it tries to hold it's head with pride
but perfect lives it bitterly sours
powerfully destroying as it flowers

The devastation in it's wake
of happy dreams it does forsake
as hatred manifests itself
at damnation's stagnant lake

For those who hate in every way
a heavy bitter price they pay
as those who once believed
now know they've been deceived

No earthly good can come of it
as no one will offer it to sit
turning backs on those who hate
this unrewarding destructive trait

Torn in two by floating shadows
remembrance of your presence
hemmed in by haunting fellows
I smell a lingering essence

The air still offers promise
the ambiance of your soul
a foggy stirring grimace
leaving an empty hole

You may return to me
in dreams and knock my door
be real and let me see
no shadows anymore

But I hear no footsteps
only the silence of my mind
my heart penetrating depths
now lost and hard to find

Days descending into night
in dark drenching ways
bring me a torching light
as my shiny path decays

The shadows on my walls
dancing memories of the past
If only time would stall
relieve this numbing sap

Shrinking brink of life
as grief dizzily permeates
into a hell no one can know
a ******* soulless state

Consuming breath it shadows
mortifying in it's course
destroying as it furrows
suppressing all good thoughts



A dark poem reflecting on how I used to feel.  You never get over losing a loved one, but you learn to live with it......

Sometimes I have a yearning to see your face
Hear your voice and feel your embrace
The sun goes down and you are not here
Another night I spend without you near.

I imagine you walking through my door
Without an invitation, you also wanting more
But it is a dream I've had many times before
Something you have to feel inside your very core.

You are never coming without a plan ahead
Impromptu calling is not something in your head
You are resilient, so much stronger that I  
For I am folding without you here, and want to cry.

I often shed a tear for my circumstances
As you age, there are fewer chances
I learned that solitude has served me well
I have grown accustomed to my lonely hell.

I have learned to live and cope over the years
No longer dwell on my stupid lonely fears
I am destined to live alone and know this is my life
I am slowly learning how not to be a wife.

Soon I will recover and be independently single
Never wanting company, I will confidently mingle
Go home to my own bed and rest my head
And know that it is only by my own hand that I am led.

Your love comes in many guises
need not be profound
the smallest gesture it revises
feet firmly on the ground
The little note and chocolate treat
left as a surprise
your smiling face as you greet
enough to win a prize
Do not need expensive gifts
with you at my side
your company is enough
a wave becomes a tide
My dreams become reality
by your ever loving vote
tilting scales in my direction
on you I've come to dote

Time stood still
when all around busy doing
days were missing
a trance I was pursuing
Numb inside
nothing could hurt again like that
I also died
although body
getting fat
All hope lost
without him at my side
my mind had snapped
I'd lost all sense of pride
My eyes were cold
nothing left to tell
I have been sold
inside an empty shell
Death is final
words are now gone
grief stuns into silence
trying to move on

When death promotes a wagging tongue
and wages war for all the wrongs
grief can **** a thousand goods
unyielding death to newest buds

Time is the only healer for
a wounded mind inside it's core
lashing out with angry glass
cutting an already open ****

There is no blame to lay at doors
old age brings death, this is the cause
in mourning there is reeling
passing time brings healing

Experience brings comfort to
a broken hearted person who
should stroke his inner soul
to avoid an empty hole

Give thought to your ill fated state
for hating to abate
good thoughts will alleviate
open your broken hearted gate

Quell your rage at any age
go have fun, no where to run
relax enjoy the summer sun
for everyone, death will come

Stormy nights are music to my ears
like stair rods, piercing my fears
comfort of the pitter patter
heavens crying tune
watering my garden lit by the moon.
The rupture of a cloud
a crack creating light
moisturising air
creating such delight.
My mind eases into sleep
knowing peace has come
the heavy rain beating
like a musical drum.
Cosy, warm and dry
as wet pavements sigh
quenching leaves on trees
and wetting passers-by.
No longer hear the sounds
of thunderous yawns
from flowers that have drowned
on a dewy dawn.
But smiles as sunshine rises
clearing pollen air
my curtain hides surprises
time to leave my chair.
The storm has now gone
as animals leave their lair
a new day has begun
another day to share.

He wore a red jumper, a warning to me
I feared his slapping hand when I was a kid
unhappy with himself, would lash out at the world
I was always in the way of his harsh physical word

Frustrated by his endeavour, control was not his thing
he'd lose it washing cars or when the lawn mower pinged
anger inside his soul, meant there was no peace
sadness in his eyes, my pity brought out the beast

He was very clever, and on good days we had fun
always treading eggshells of the terror that would come
weary and alone I planned to escape his wrath
as soon as I was able I would walk a prettier path

Abusive life continued and I feared my own shadow
violence dominated my life, no loving I'd been shown
the day I left the home was the day I had revenge
peace descending on my life, no longer had to fend

Anger left behind for others to now deal
no more trembling at the table at every meal
looking back I learned to love instead of hate
but for my father, it is all too late

He died with no regrets, he proudly said
thinking only of himself and his selfish head
giving wasn't something he was ever taught
unfortunately his son, in violence is now caught

I have found peace in all you do
your loving touch in me renews
invisible is the ambient air
which gives your soul flamboyant flair

Electric is the spark I feel
our hearts have found a secret seal
that binds us close together
a magic knot has tethered

When you are sad, I break in two
for what you feel, I feel it too
your happiness means so much to me
it turns and churns in me a key

You have my heart and keep it free
you do this because you love me
it trips, and takes my breath away
especially when I know you'll stay

Together growing in your arms
a fire of many delightful charms
pandoras box of sweet meats
excitement explodes and greets

Our chains bonded in loyal links
engineered with bionic chinks
your arm is strong and I feel safe
surrounded by your devoted lake

I tire of fight, when my love desserts thee,
all that I held so dear has disappeared,
your word of rage was never meant to hurt me,
despite no explanation volunteered.

When faith is lost, a voice cannot be heard,
and doubt will creep into a lover’s heart,
until past joys are ****** into the dirt,
burned down to blackened ashes from the start.

And all that’s left is sorrow and regret,
misunderstanding feeds a shallow mind,
and opening the door too much a threat,
for honesty is now the purest kind.

When love can be rejected when it’s true,
then there’s no hope in giving love to you.

A beautiful mind locked in doorless corridors
where repetition stabilises and calms.

A determined path of adventure into unknown waters,
then drowning when reality chokes optimism.

A blameless existence, where selective thoughts control,
and anxiety sabotages and destroys all things beautiful.

Joys pale into distant dreams . . . to the outside world normality prevails,
behind the curtain, a nervous tension builds and grips the spirit ******* out its life.

Sleep is usurped and any pleasure of tranquility is alluded.
An exhausted mind and body writhing in pain and falling into a bottomless pit.

No one can help,  No loving can change the hopelessness,
A behaviour that is repeated over and over in a cycle of torment.

Tranquillisers relieve the symptoms, but the episodes continue,
The ups and downs, the highs and lows, and the suffering is hard to observe.

Not from the cards do I my fortune pluck,
and yet my luck seems adequately sweet,
I seek a higher ground to reconstruct,
my self esteem is much less than complete.

Now should I turn to drink, and drown my sorrow,
roulette would keep me up until the dawn.
Would tranquillising bring a new tomorrow,
or should my fate decide which path I’m drawn.

For lately love has turned into decay,
and broken every vow it undertakes;
the only solace left is my bouquet,
red roses and selection of cream cakes.

When playing cards a win is always mine,
but love can be so fickle ev’ry time.