she had wonderful roses
in many a hue
colours glorious
one even blue
but in her vases
stand only a few
for on her rose buds
the possums chew

spring has sprung
or haven't you heard
can't you tell
by the singing of birds?

winter has gone
and it's not too late
but there you exist
behind a closed gate

sat at your desk
no listening to birds
how you don't live
I find quite absurd

don't confuse
feeling good
with love

cold wind slants rain
in from an iron sky

ocean ***** churns throwing pebbles on the beach

God it's raining end of summer!

dreary days
    
the garden not worth longing gaze

dull
grey
wet

maybe i should get a pet?

autumn
leaves

and winter comes

should i get out the wellingtons

every atom
blasted apart
reconstituted
in an instant
random fragments
of memory surface
then spin out of sight
permanence and solidarity
laughable
dissolving
everything tissue thin
friable

Swallowing
lumps
of desperation
they settle
in my stomach
like bad bacteria

i looked up some old poets here
and noticed they have gone
ive also done an absence
myself
not the only one

we come here to
exchange a thought
ours spirits get renewed
I wouldn't feel quite this way
if your poems i hadn't viewed

i know i havent written for so long
and also that this explanation isn't neccessary
i know instinctively you understand completely without one
that i can just come back and it will be as if i never left
rude friend i can be because
we are we
i've missed you

all the colours of autumn
unfolded like a carpet
rolling away to the horizan
horses grazing
in far away meadows
clouds moving
like mountains across the sky

his poems
an ocean
to dive into
and
become
to leave them
i feel
beached

"Nature"
seducer sublime
taking up all
of my time

why do you love me better after you've made me cry

i become supplicant and your love swells
you become sweet again      
tender

loving concern pours forth as i lie
spent
on the floor
exhausted

is it exacted punishment on all women?
she who sent you to that place of inhumanity?
that destroyer of boys
men
and ultimately
women

will that ever change

sometimes
thinking about doing something
can be almost
as tiring
as
doing it
;o)

A little flurry of snow
just blew past my window
wouldn't you think
the weather would know
It's spring.....?

sunny parks busy with people
flying kites
and throwing sticks
sailing model boats
on rivers and ponds
or just lying on the grass
taking the sun
reading books
while lovers touch and kiss
I always feel
the invisible screen
between these ordinary things of life
and myself
slightly blurred

young love
demands perfection
of face, form and intent
old love
stitches together
the frayed
seeing the beauty
in patchwork

Little girl
you could see
the poetry
in all around
with toddlers walk
still yet to talk
wide eyed in wonder
without sound

skin
a sheen of sweat
cries ring out
sheets
all tangled agony
***** foetid air
contract
cryout
subside
a birthing
no pink and downy babe is this
a mucus clot
a jellied mass
a river of blood and tears
a termination
of what wasn't quite
a tractor passes feeding out
calves for the slaughter
the sun shines
birds sing
all oblivious of anything
a death and life goes on

Mysterious mist
takes control
giving bulk
while removing substance

The church clock struck
midnight
in muffling fog
a familiar yet
ominous sound
like the warning bell
on an ocean buoy
tolled by sea's
rythmic swell

interesting...
you tell me you'll stop writing to her
although we both know
you will still read her blog
every day
waiting....
it won't change anything
it will only hide your interest from me
and whats the point in that
shes still there
and so are you
i no longer pretend

i sit
as silent
as an embarrassing thought
tucked away in the corner
of my own mind

look at it
this poem
nothing
of it
no agitation
or dissipation
nothing of
passion
what is this poem
nothing of
anything?

It's kind of weird
I must admit
tho I've enjoyed
our close
it's also burnt
the honesty
has been a
toxic dose
we've laid bare souls
got it all out
this close is not
as put about

never believe the promises made
by an addict in the cold 
                                  light
                                  of
                                  dawn

for when midnight
                                falls
and the sirens song sounds

those
promises
cannot
be
heard

the middle of the night
shallow restless sleep
a
singularly
wild
idea
occurs

but sleep spawned revelations
from the subconcious
wither
and die
of ridicule at dawn

im in mourning
didn't even see it
dawning
why do I
do this every night
and wake up
feeling
full of
.............

you think
i haven't
already seen
our history

I move into some private space
looking for what brings me here
to this place at this hour
the church clock strikes midnight
bringing me out of my reverie
the last note sounds out across the green
rolling out beyond the sleeping cottages and farms
past the nearby meadows
over the silent flowing stream
finally fading to nothingness
in neighbouring valleys
outside I look up
brilliant stars shine down
on the dark unheeding village
I move on looking for what brings me here
to this place at this hour...

the arborist is coming
he will cut limbs
from my golden elm
no longer will they almost climb
into my roof
birds will still nestle in her branches
declaring their territories
at dawn and dusk
but she will be without hands
for awhile

i cannot tell the differance between what heals me
and what hurts
am i
moving forward or
making a mistake

is it
infinity given
or merely
me being
self riven

Old jewelry box
accepting
of all my broken baubles
for stories told

love
unraveled
the sleeve
i wore
my heart on

A curtain of mist
is raised
by triumphant sun
then brisk breeze
cues the daffodils
to dance

Luminous!
she is just luminous
with ready smile
and laugh
no one knows
that underneath
she is dying
on the inside
black as coal
is her soul
my dear
my love
my daughter
always was
destined for slaughter

had been to a wedding
a lovely affair
many humerous people were there

all through the night
we danced and we sang
throughout the rooms much laughter rang

home the next day
my emails i read
sorry said dad your sister is dead

internal
eternal
eternal
internal
never
ending
struggle

all caught up
in looking at the world
in wonder
a child
does not see
ugly

so you finally get to have her
on her deathbed
how perfect
would you ****** as much
over me
on mine
of course not
that's too real
you'd run away
as you already have

love is not sunlight
on gossamer down
or dewdrops on grass
in which our souls drown
not sunlight filtering
through lacy leaves
no matter how much
such fancies please
so why do we clothe it
in white lace and roses
it's merely a corpse
that looks fine in poses

the desire to be free
of other people
of a past that clings
often leads to acts
that pave the way to remorse
a path littered
with the rotting corpses
of other peoples dreams

My confidence
slinks off
surreptitiously
leaving me
feeling foolish
standing alone

words
strewn
around the room

scattered across
the
floor

little
piles
of
heartfelt

i
dont
want
no more

lost
un    finished
poems

willfully
destroyed
poems

just
too
******* personal
poems

sweep them
out the door

we dance
in primitive
ingrained
patterns
persistent
repetitious
mating
ritual­s

It's been years
you knock on the door
i open it
you come inside
i close the door
we turn to each other
glide into each others arms
faces buried in each others necks
we smell
inhaling deeply
brains click into gear
a process started
i want you with ALL my being
you want me too tho fight it
we undress
no words spoken
clasping each other we couple
urget
over
fast
we cling
inhale each other deeply
again
slowly
we come to
start to part
feelings change
each feel ashamed
of this red hot raw
cool settles in
creates a din
in our brains
we separate
feelings abate
procreation...

i dreamed of winning you
with my charms
i dreamed of lying
in your arms
i dreamed of how
our lives might be
but dreams are not dreams
when they become
reality

love
what a ******* disaster
you fall hard and inevitabley
get broken
by the love object
who doesn't love
or
they fall for you too
only when it fades    for them
they seem to accept it
with indifferance
not too much later
turning their eyes to ever younger prettier fresh flesh
happy to tell you what an old interest you've become
and "what else did you expect everyone does it"
well I don't
won't
can't
accept that
why?
it's not as if I am out of touch
with reality
no teenager me
love in spite of that
too intensely
how I wish I could
not love
as much
in love is as lonely   as
out of it
when your in it
alone