Dyed-in-the-wool commitment, knitted tight
to the reigns of tidy life will forbid dreaming.

Counted as wastage by common-sense sight
dreaming is seen behind myopic screens
and single-track minds believe this, blindly.

Shell off this misunderstanding, take flight
and join the first misty cavalcade to find
life that, only in dreams, can be seen aright.

Intangible clouds will open to notions
on faraway planes,
dress in right attire for chimerical muse
and fly deep ocean's
speedway to inspiring stars where fire
lit with gleads of potent ideas
vibrates inside a luminous heart, stoke
it alight and watch sparks
of melodious lines catch flame then wait.

New states will translate as words write
themselves, this yielding
to fervour for needing more dreaming
means insight appears,
grows stable, will flow and succeed.

Phoenix-Bird.

In memory of John White the talented
sculptor of beauty from trees. R.I.P.
..........................................................­........

Rising from what appears petrified stone
stands the ****, elmwood sea bird,
head *****, wide-eyed and wings tightly rolled.
Sleek with much oiling, prepared
to a smoothness with masterful honing
to grace any home, careful
artistic handling sculpted life-like finely-*****
structure, feathery wings, rare
hooded head, feet webbed to perfection thrown
over elm boulder, toes pared
to sharp-claw completion, finely tooled cloning
of the real might soon be heard
shaking whittled wings to leave wooden throne,
and magically fly, stirring
dreams that a phoenix bird has risen and flown.

Crouching alone and always alert,
left to fend
for themselves little fox cubs
know well
how to silently wait, ferns skirting
the cave provide
animal comfort when rubbed
with motherly scents
but how long, it seems, this time
she is in returning.
Their eyes reflect tension as wrong
vibes fill the air
and scared breath pulsates, learning
quickly that danger
is near, desperate bodies shiver
and cautiously
nosing the air alert ears listen again.
We will not know
this pair's fate, but rivers of spilt
fox-blood instil
inner terror, long reigns of horn-fear
and hunting will
forever be bred into red psyche,
for when fur bristles
as caution senses evil man-smell,
wild hearts become
wary and leap to dig deeper dens.

Into Beyondness.

Over the borders of every-day scribing
lies the unusual,
get into beyondness and pen two sides.

Though above and apart search for the
yonder, transcend stale
mundane and favour lines rarely used.

Peer into remoteness of perpetuity and
watch potent duality
assign fresh curiosity about inner sight.

Looking slant-eyed view the abnormal,
kindle and set ablaze
welcome of strangeness, feel its allure.

Ascend to un-measuredness, imagine
the magical, find elation
by rifling wealth of extra dimensions.

Treasure the trip into this otherness,
expect no boundary, earn
discernment that nothing else betters.

We inched towards that space today
You and I
Where lovers pace themselves before
The taste of nectar
Takes their breath away.
We dallied in some dreamy glade
And made ourselves
Stand still
To smell the longing mounting, then
Me and you
Began counting seconds 'til through
The moment's glaze
We silently pledged our love anew.

Catching the winds and favourable tides
ride well the high waves.
Go carefully dear friend, the sea and I
will unfurl you the deepest
of harbours, ports within sight of shore.
We will usher you through,
landed and storm-proofed and warmed
with our preparation, glad
to give welcome your reaching of home.
Only a weathered heartbeat
away you will be from me as the ocean
urges your journey
steadily forward to its yearned-for end,
so until closely held after
anchoring safely, do go carefully friend.

Chasing Night.

I chased this evening evening's painterly
tints blatantly seizing sky-time before
sun-down display.

Dark's parade festooned in anodyne darts
of bright lunar-spears seared twilight
and flamed the lake.

Silver-foil ribbons began to invade pallid
glow as granite-grey filigree skirted
today's farewell.

Patterns of sparkle captured the change
to best forgotten wet afternoon when
heavens melted,

Night's foot now dry left silvery scuff
on watery top of eel-thread shapes
moving with breeze.

Moon-glinted landscape seduced as
with ghostly aliveness, by chasing
night, night chased me.

If Only.

No tonic compares to dawn's
best rewarding
blackbird-sweet melodies spilling abroad.

Silence drips with his chords
as his daring
leaves shards piercing the crystal clear air.

If only my pen could capture
each little droplet of rapturous
sound I would bottle the liquidy
trilling of notes and unstopper his
solo and pour this potion on wounds
brought by neglect of listening to food
from the heavens suffused with freedom
by angelic singing that brings hearers ease.

Of all nature's symphonies
ever been heard
nothing out-betters the notes of this bird.

With tuneful soliloquist
stirring my sleep
I willingly rouse and mean to drink deep.

Next generation once weaned wings away
from the breast's cloistered past.
In standing ***** most offspring cling not
to parental mastery.
Growth's call will never be hindered by
closed doors of detention.
Soaking in sap furthest from home keen
shoots yearn for adventure.
Trying to eat what others digested sours
young buds wanting new taste.
Belonging to no-one begets confidence
when choices need making.
Every plant casts its seeds to the wind so
each finds space to survive.
Only by leaving the nest can a fledgling
learn self-respect and thrive.
Letting go gently is welcome when sweet
dependence seems outgrown.
Whether fur, flesh or feather that flight's
success ever remembers home.

When hearts hunger to love
angels will see.

Need opens approach with
chance for release.

Heaven's intentions shall
brook no delays.

Freedom to show love is
how Love repays.

From the fingers of first
misty light,
rays
of morning shatter
dark chains,
and usher
in daybreak unrehearsed.

Black songster displays
agenda for
mating
by ringing the ether
in trilled carol,
shakes off
damp night and flies away.

Smiles become partner
to awe
after
first heard
feathered dawn-bird's
wordless praise
as life again makes its start.

Raise the eyes for more
and view
nature
revealing truth
that only by such glories
can Love be
understood in unvoiced talk.

I catch somehow
the view
of inside tears in eyes
that peer
shyly
from furrowed brow.

Behind the smile
bravely
shown for camera
lens,
the pretence ends
as
all the while
endless
dry red dust
surrounds the sound
of home
falling,
wall by broken wall,
but
smile she must.

Homeless now,
with age-old grit
she sits,
aware
her world has stopped.
- - -
- -
Another bomb
- -
in error,
- -
dropped.

After Effects.

For days hurt raged and blew gales of tears, rain
drenching her already sunken heart drowned,
in saddest blue mist the darkened windowpane
of her young mind witnessing life closing down.

He had gone, now facing rough after effects
she could only brace more against this storm
of despair which, battering self-respect,
made her heart wish she had never been born.

Pain swallows will for a while, but fighters live
and sensing this, she began to untie,
slowly, hurt's strings and relearn forgiveness,
then boldness felt, shoulders shrugged tears dry.

More trying brought smiles remembering times
when laughter washed friendship and memories
of good times changing the mood she restyled
new outlook of viewing what "used to be".

Now on becoming solely her own, loneliness
faded for acceptance revealed her wholeness.

Small Happenings.

With thanks to G.M Hopkins, the poet
who inspired this verse
with his famous words of Pied Beauty.
---------------------------------------------------

Let us celebrate little things.
A butterfly's wings.
The solo a blackbird sings.
Mad march-hare flings.
The way one raindrop clings.
Ripe seed-pod pings.
A spider's steel-web strings.

Let us notice the hidden things
First snow-melt springs.
A buzzard's broad flight wings.
Wild mushroom rings.
Bluebell's low bend as it swings.
Falling chestnut dings.
The fresh smell a shower brings.

Let us delight in minute things.
Find joy in small happenings.

Spinning Stardust.

Fairytale stories roll off golden pens
as airy and fanciful minds start curling
over the edge of unreal to write again
idealized dreams woven with gossamer words,
spinning lined phrases they capture reason
to turn it into ethereal rhyme where
knights always win fair favours to please
fine ladies, ride hard-won word-stallions, compose
emotion, odes to bliss, win battles repeatedly
and deliver versed grief at times, poets
scribe care for world events, artful schemes
leave their mark on hearts, readers would miss
imagery mystically wrought, so trusting
metaphor's meaning found between lines catch
hidden passion and dance in its stardust.

Colour Me Love.

Colour me bubbles of misty-blue love.
Blow them, drifting on soundless high cloud.
I wait here, gratefully searching above
A whispering sky, knowing the ether around
My window pane will resound once again
To more heart-warming secrets, hauntingly
Packaged by words wrapped in your name,
And containing nothing but love unforced.
Colour me baubles of glistening gems.
Rubies for hugs, emeralds for evergreen
Promise of undying devotion and bend
Them like rainbowing arrows, gleaming
Their star-studded aerial journey straight
Into my dreams, colour me gentle, cover
My fears in caring spheres at the gateway
Of this beating heart and paint me with love.

Coming Alive.

Cascading from winter's mountainous hold,
Spring descends, partially clad in earliest
Green, vibrant with seasonal need, and bold
With rampancy, it shoots bursts of new pearly
Fingers, fresh with sticky spring juice, skyward.

Showing impatience with tethered birth it shoves
And shoulders neighbours for freedom, lighter
Than bright spring-coloured rivalry then rubs
Noses with rapacious hedgerow fighting.

Springtime is never the gentlest of seasons,
Night views raw subterranian root-races.
And despite "lamb's tail" stories being legion
Coming alive proves a challenge for Spring

Hazy Reflections

Glass plated, the bay
lies hazily, sealine breaks
the sky away
from distant headlands,
and basks in midday.

Warm autumn sun fills
the basin between
with diamond studded
diaphanous glazes
which mesmerize me.

Moonstruck Lunacy.


Oh ominous moon,
pale portent of danger,white luminous disk
suspended aloft
in a midnight-high bloom of enchantment.
Hear me.

Thick blanket of black,
shot thru with bright shiny cats-eyes of light
and coated in soft
unearthly glimmer this earthy-dark night,
shine out your
lover's lantern-like gleaming on harvested
fields which are
waiting like I am from moonstruck insanity.
Retrieve me.

Aided by dreaming
you invaded my heart, broke down the door
to any resistance,
now ecstasy hides in clandestine moments,
secreted from daylight,
delighting in dark with this stolen obsession.
Release me.

Oh wanton moon,
which with passion bewitches us, he, bidden
by lunacy-love,
will come hurrying soon to my arms again,
and forbidden sparkle
from his eyes shall light and set me aflame.
Relieve me.

Oh moonbeaming night it is you I shall blame.
Believe me.

New events at times can mystify logical minds,
turn topsy-turvy accepted norms,
toss sky-high
respectable long held conclusions,then jumble
normal routine until, irretrievably,
it is tumbled.
Change in events scramble an unprepared brain,
life appears altered, time patterns
never the same,
confusion reigns until answers start making sense
of the questioning "whys" which
storm relentlessly
over unsought-for acceptance
and then blast
apart reliance on conventional views,
abnormally fast.
At last simple clarity reappears and rises above
any doubt as realization confirms
you have fallen in love.

Ebony's Gold.

Dark fast erupts with decisive lust,
locks in skybound eyesight
between banks of low cloud.
and blocks all sight of a sinking sun.

Dusk folds early into twilight's hold,
attacks any last view of
homecoming bird flight and
wraps shadows round ebony's gold.

Night awakens and strikes daylight,
cuts sunset's late shine from
evening's nocturnal edges
then shuts pitch darkness in, tightly.

Battle for might ends and what wins
is descending blackness
but dawn's fight prior planned
sun's mighty push shall again begin.

I reach for your core of warmth
in musings and dreams.

They lift me lightly into your keeping.

Large loads float by, weightless,
after reading your verses.

Hurts melt in the heat of your words
and become no more a burden.

Holding you soul-close my spirit survives.

Time cannot enliven me
like warm phrasing and rhyme.

If this be love then love transforms parting.

Breathe then your gold, dear friend,
pen it over my heart.

Dearest My Lord. read this with haste.
and view this unholy state
to which thou hast brought me, mind
heart and flesh quiver
at mention of thine intent with alarm,
as I lately hear say,
even alas as I, indisposed, thou be got
ready to ride away
but fie upon thee shouldst thy conduct
be so for thou surely
knowest in me thou hast sired a child,
pray father no *******.
To embrace wedlock before this confine
and duly confess needeth
brave heart for the babe beareth no name
if thou now abandon me,
prithee have pity on forthcoming shame
to mine own family.
Pray marry me do, thou canst not afford
to blacken my name by
fleeing abroad and relinquish thy duty,
destiny calleth along with
my kin as I have been only thine so plead
my case, do not ill-use me.
Thou hadst thy way now takest thou mine,
for without thy support
I must surely decline thus I live in despair
until reply won, mine heart
beateth only for thine I assure, though hast
thou lately undone me.
Prithee my Knight reconsider and stay like
I must to face results, fraught
with dependence on right being done unto
my reputation this day
of the Lord in the month of September 1609.

From Mary Elizabeth, distraughtedly thine.

Stars like sparks splutter to bed
as birds catch fire.
****-red lips of sultry sun kiss
mouldering night
and in dawn's shimmering light
greet lightening sky.
Throat of thrush flintily strikes
other minds as incite
to fly for edge of day's eye sets
alive morning's
explosions that electrify every
tongue in flight
while I, amazed, note the calls
of each feathered
awaker who knows time's sign
has arrived to feed
if for today chicks are to thrive.

Ten buttercup summers ago
sweet gilt strands spiraled above
dual attraction,
moments fanned friendship
into smoke of commitment and
passion strewed
petals on beginnings of romance.

Five lilac seasons back we
picked scented happiness when,
defences fallen,
meadows of floral nectar ended
aloneness and love
waltzed thru' former convention
without any note
of doubtful retreat or regret.

Two hollyhock years gone
seeds hidden in needy hearts
took root and bloomed
as we tended the scent of total
oneness until,
coffined in fathomless shock,
happenings flattened
hope's dreams of contentment.

A grief ago winter's cold
wilted growth, buried treasure
and brought an end
to love's beautiful garden, yet
rainbowed in memory
those flowers still hold colours
of our very specialness.

Hushed and hydrated,
Water-wet otters,
Timorous creatures,
Dissension dislike.
Hostile approaches,
Raising reactions.
Daring offensives
Unnerving the pike.
Opposing behaviour
Self-will underpins.
Courage in warfare
Means he who dares
....................... wins!

Near as we vote it, yesterday is, in reality remote
for that time is over.
Those bent on resurrecting painful events evoke
only heartache's shadow.

Fantasy drawn in wet sand is, by tide's turning,
washed clean and swept away.
Yesteryear dreamers who weave only for ghosts
will bury the best of today.

If instead of time-veiling we allow memory into
Now's air it becomes fresh.
Facing tomorrows without need of phantoms we
free Self for more success.

Too long hangs rain in our valley.

Sky's clouded face cracks to cry drizzle-patterns
over sown ground
and growing seedlings face hazard.

Too long has water earth-wronged.

Makes mud by changing each leaf to sponge
that ***** out green to
leave brown where verdant belongs.

Small lakes rise in the hedgerow-rose.

As tears of lime run down from hilly meadows
sad rinsing brings whispers
of wet killing by un-seasonal cold.


Too long shudder of feathers droop.

While across far horizons a fox runs foodless
as damp cubs look for sun
while prey floods in the hen-coop.

Too long a chill has made harvest weep.

Thatched cottages drip in the village street,
trees bleed moss and weight
burdens the thick-coated sheep.

Swathed in neglect droops each garden.

Knee-deep in unattained tasks the farmyard
sprouts idle days as folk bide
time waiting for signs of drying to start.

To long hangs rain in our valley.

Coping.

A shadow, poised where the blow is to fall
transports and transforms
in its turning
as shot hits, making wife widow who learns
by authentic letter
but starts hopeful pretense.

A dream believed whole is but a fragment
transfixed and transient
in its racing
away from such real where tragedy faces
grave's mocking indifference
to wedlock's stark finish.

A battle-torn soul coping alone with grief
transacts and transmits
in its mourning
devotional vows should report prove false
yet she, believing he lives
weeps while cursing war's evil.

Colour me bubbles of misty-blue love.
Blow them, drifting on soundless high cloud.
I wait here, gratefully searching above
Starlit skies, knowing the ether around
My window pane will resound once again
To more heart-warming secrets, hauntingly
Packaged in words wrapped in your name.
Containing nothing but love's tender force.

Colour me baubles of glistening gems.
Rubies for hugs, emeralds for evergreen
Promise of undying affection - - bend
Them like rainbowing arrows, gleaming
Their star-studded aerial journey, straight
Into my dreams. Colour me gentle doves
White as moonlight to sing in the gateway
Of my waiting heart and paint me in love.

Running amok black bellies of hail-clouds
divest their hard cargo
on near-ready harvest and thunder claps
in spiteful applause.

Scudding sails of racing white galleons
arrive to the rescue
and change weather's position as quiet
breaches gale's disorder.

Setting the sun throws magenta feathers
across dark horizon
and to settle the issue parades jade tints
as the landscape transforms.

Waiting small boats plod homewards in
fish-laden formation
while wives run to stoke hot-kettled fires
of ready bath water.

Lighting a pathway half-moon winks as
heavier catches in
hauled nets silver the harbour and men
start night's final performance.

Sating hunger with coming and going
sow-and-reap women know
the meaning of sharing male labour in
scaling and salting chores.

Fisher-folks' world begins and ends
with the vagaries and quirks of weather.

This morning of mornings when dawn
on waking tints her blue face
with wispy-white make-up,
when no breeze stirs the quiet or ruffles
day's essence I breath in a
freshness and thrill at being alive.

This summer of summers when growth
all around thrusts to race
upwards at re-born pace
as ardour covers the ground, when force
invades plant-space I taste
the fight and feel their excitement.

This delight of delights when July affords
warmth to outdoor creations
with florally fragile fragrance,
when petal exposure's juicy insides show
a future of fat seed sameness
I become awed by beauty's survival.

Love-Dust.

A heart's entrance door
opens only from inside to outwards
and once ajar, before
blinking at expressive freedom sees
love's unknown wonder.
Soul- secrets when told will astound
love's doubt through
meant whispers into dreamer's ears
then pour nectar over
each fur-lined ache of hurting need
as Cupid refills fonts
with sating love-dust. until slaked
is thirst by no more want.

Mistrust.

The mistrust in a dying relationship
discolours love's eyes,
feels no reproof from past mistakes,
abuses kindness,
makes of togetherness an irritation,
turns truth to bland lies
and stands aside from communication
when one of two tries.
The breath of dead passion penetrates
beyond depth of ties
and wrecks with renewed realization
of non-compromise
while the mouth of rejection suffocates
taste for testing goodbyes,
not caring what strain lies in isolation.
Regret deeply sighs
when love retreats into disintegration.

Let tight knots in the heart
loose and shake down soft streams of quiet
to untie and fledge confined feelings.

Allow them to fly.

Take wing into a Now-land
of unlimited freedom where failure does not
apply nor is it found.

Choice is unbounded.

Do not expire before trying each dream.

Find fervent zeal within life's choicest fields
and pick all the love-seeds.

Tended and grown inside then watered with
joy, mood's fruitage alters
mindsets and oils attitudes for when once
digested folk learn to lighten.

Every life has great purpose which all, in
the finding may realize.

Humans are born to share love.

This is our true birthright.

I choose the rarely trod word-road
that takes rocky paths of poetic mindscape,
maps and clinches metaphor links grown
in unknown definement.

I look slant-eyed at morning's own
painting, facing blank canvas the sea becomes
jasper and foam turns to lace as image
transcends norm to new heights.

I view stary skies pock-marked
with diamonds, ocean outcrops hold mermaids,
sand secretes silvered past as grief-gilded
each sunset weeps its goodbyes.

I write emotion into whale-cry,
sentence fur and feather to human behaviour,
translate seasonal change to safe ground
for my fancy's winged flight.

I dare take words a stage further,
imagine boundless and verse a beyondness,
bend grammar by stretching out to sense
inanimate liveliness.

Back Then.

There was for us something so holy back then
in that lovely OtherWhere.

We found out-spoken feelings consolingly
warming and care became real.
Raising our faces to preordained fate we
found bliss within dreams.

There was something of glory about love in
that wonderful OtherLand

Absorbing out-pouring from duel openness
we took hope and believed.
Joy must have re-cloaked all heaven with
our beautiful secret.

Ever was lasting and Now was unsinkable.

Happiness followed a daily routine as Hello
impacted twin-souled contact.
Born then contentment with intimate rain of
reflective close pattern.

A state arose where death was unthinkable

Satisfied moorings meant patiently waiting
until change altered lonely.
Exchange of anticipation balanced each taste
of our myopic throne.

But health unexpectedly hit rocks and sunk.

As I paid the Boatman my coin of acceptance
mourning wept oceans of grief.
Sudden wrecked notions of OtherTime and
struck reality in raw hysteria.

Storms of aloneness drown reason and clung.

Yet different horizons within saline's fall gave
never-moreness clearer vision.
Wait would not be outgrown but tears which
recede can reach appeasement.

Scars back then were eventually fleshed over.

Conciliation accepts calmer seas if heartbreak
makes enough concessions.
Future togetherness in a new OtherPlace will
prove better without an aggressor.

There was for us something holy back then in
that treasured OtherWhere

and will be again.