In the evening
I heard passers talking
about work that morning;
about numbers and deadlines
and the contracts for signing.
All the while
the evening sky was gifting
salmon wrapped cloud parcels
to the west,
the northeast dimmed
while the shy night hemmed
a starry sequined dress
but the passers only had green
in their eyes

A picture may paint a thousand words, but a word can communicate a thousand images.

Time:
a perpetual motion,
an unstoppable force.
The present:
a constant collision with
an immovable object:
the past.

Shallow pools
so still
filled with dripped dreams
long decayed.
Fearful whispered words
will echo under their weight.
Because not every circus has
a drunken clown,
nor revolution a song
and not every scream means
something is wrong.
It's a reticent forgotten poem
existing in an amorphic state.

"Ah, grumpy thumb have you met------?"
He stood aside.
I saw a wave of hair so slight,
black as jet.
Shoulder length
faint apple scent.
Pale blue eyes,
button brows creased mild.

"Hi." A little shy.
Our hands touch.
Her's: soft, warm and dry.
"Hello."
A friendly shake then let go.
A smile, matt salmon-pink lips.
Fine laughter lines.
Genuine.

Host makes a beline.

Feeling a little uneasy, "I'm not good at these things....." indicate with a nod.
Her smile stretches.
Button brows an animated lift.
Stepping closer, "Me neither.
To be honest Grumpy, I'd prefer beer and pizza."
Tingle laughter.
"Me too, but when in Rome!"
I take two champagne flutes off a walking platter.
We clink.

"Shall we?" Slender arm snakes round mine unexpectantly.
Sidestepping the gathered bulk of people we find space.
My eyes trace the small dimples of her cheeks. Nostrils flare, better to remember the bloosm of her hair.
"With all the cackle, I didn't catch your name."
"Oh, it's---------"
The host returns again.

You're wearing me out with your indifference
like a pair of boots walking long distance.
No matter which route I take
I never seem to reach your heart.

Tried travelling down other paths,
but it don't take long before
I have to turn back.
My only destination is wherever you're at..
But you get further and further away.

I listen for the call
in words,
in a look,
in a touch.
Longing for the return
of the soft weight and crush
of your ******* upon my chest.
Flesh hotter than Fahrenheit
together pressed,
roll and glide and engulf.
Lips and tongue and your
love's tremble
slight,
arch of body and scented hair tumble.
Our love's shared laughter,
kisses pealing
our campanology
freely ringing,
echoing
till sleep.

Her smile was the most hurtful thing.
It suddenly awoke him from a perfect dream.
Swatting away razor sunbeams
from cutting him down to earth.

Coffee turned cold,
tray full of butts.
The play of her mouth
was a kick in the guts.
If somebody asks what's wrong
he'd make something up.
Truth be told nobody would.

At least being alone he'd only have to lie to himself.

She wasn't perfect,
he knew too well
though she was perfect for him
like a chime and a bell,
but now her smile could go to hell
so too her choice of another.

The bus threw up it's passangers
street's bustle flushed them away.
He sidestepped a muttering ******
who'd seen better days.
Umbrellas popped open
and hoods pulled up
against the falling rain,
but his thoughts were a staccato of her.

The lure of coffee and pastries
from a deli warmly beckoned all to
stay,
but the hustle of pedestrians
carried him south on his way
towards officeblocks looming ominously
flanking the warf along the edge of the quay,
but his thoughts were of a staccato of she.

He tossed his radio out the window.
95 piece orchestra and composer
hurled through the air.
As Wagner crashed
he cracked open a bottle of wine
to take his mind off
his hatred for the predictable.
Then her ghost came to him
like he knew she would;  
to haunt him,
to taunt him.
Though there was nothing scary
about her cool milky thighs
sliding out of a butter yellow skirt.

I wear this second skin
writing secretly
in the jaws of night.

Reticent thoughts
shyly accumulate in ink
unravel and take flight.

Though to others
they may be worthless
void of craft and lack insight.

Each one is a delicate
Part of me
I have the right to write.

Colours were flattened beneath
a dull stretch of graphite sky.
Its cloak dampened the dimension
of nature's vibrancy,
trapping an uncomfortable
heavy warmth void of wind's sigh.
Birds couldn't manage a chirp
nor dogs a bark.

Weighted limbs sprawled
from lifeless bodies
drained of energy.
Lazy eyes lolled
in attempts to peruse
a tree's limp leaves
in hope of movement
urging them
for a sign of relief.
Those eyes soon retreated
to drift and dream
behind weary lids
which sank
as silently as the absent sun.

She's sitting there all pretty,
but I feel nothing, not a stir.
Shift closer in my chair
tossing conversations at her.
She throws them politly back
unsure.
Perhaps hoping for a spark,
a connection.
I gaze into her eyes at evening light's reflection
sparkling brightly as a dew drop glistening in the morning sun.
She's unaware of my distraction.
She got it wrong.
I notice a shy smile glow and resonate.
Her pupils dialate.
Unintentionally I've led her on.
Feeling a little guilty, I remember the evening's not just for me.
I cut the tethers of care to see
what our bodies will do.

We all have a place
that we keep
(just in case)
our hord
or our stash
our clutter.

Things that had purpose
or by some chance
may be used again.
Oddities and nic nacks
Old candles and keys
obsolete rechargers and batteries
cables and thimbles,
coins of foreign currencies
manuals and letters and lint.

And they are stored
in shoeboxes,
beer crates
bottom drawers
wardrobes,
on garage shelves
or in hearts.

Night rests now you have arisen
broken free from slumber's prison.
So many chores must be done
awaken birds
hold up the sun.
Paint new colours
give time a fresh life.
Prepare opportunities
for creatures and people to strive.
Good morning dear day

Birds are singing a cappella
a lullaby
for your wilting light.
Drowsy flowers drooping
to doze
safely in petal folds.
Yawning colours are waning soft
in twlight's faded hue.
Night will come soon
to watch over you.
Sleep well my dear day.

Wonder I sadly
the wish of the sun
for a shadow or
somewhere dark enough
to dream.

The rabble simmered to a distant dull din
muffled by thick wooden doors and hands clamped over ears.
Wanting deafness rather than to hear again
the laughter accompanied by his name spoken ugly as sin.
But who can mute memories or what screams from within?

Wilting for another night
wishing a dream would birth
enough light,
praying
to believe he could face the world
head held high,
no stoop to stop confidence
nor twist of frown to drown positive assurances.
just enough would be enough for him
if he could walk the way
the beautiful do.
Just the way they do.

Catch you
my breath,
shambolic hope,
flustered thought.

Take you:
glimmer kissed tear,
aphotic state,
penny drop.

Hold you
my ridicule,
cowardness,
dreary repetitive wish.

Their weight devours me so.

She plays "Misty"
for me
slowly
drifting into its veil
merging with waves
of minors and major-7s.
The passion of her
closed eyes
swoop and rise of brow
gentle sway
mouthing notes
playing from memory
lost in its depths
as I am in hers,

".....look at me..."

She skirts a dirge
skimming dregs
of a memory.
Keeping to shallow,
bearable,
remnant depths.
Sapient steps
with vigilance she threads.
She'd drown
if submerged.

Into a damaged heart
a temporary fix
of one night stands,
maybes and what ifs.
Glossing over cracks,
but the temporary rips,
widens in time,
gapping holes yawn
an infinite scream.
Vortex,
bottomless swallow
hungry to be filled.
Waiting for love's builders
to swoon with steel and solid bricks

He is a hurricane
and blows me away.
I'm trying to hold on to you,
but how can I compete with that?

He is a rainbow
his colours block out my shades.
I try to sketch a future for us,
but how can I compete with that?

He's a genius
makes me a babbling fool.
Trying to figure out why you'd ever want me.
How can I compete with that.

But he'll never understand what it's like
to count every second a blessing
cos you're in his life.
And he'll never stay awake every night
knowing dreams will never be
as sweet as you by his side.
And he'll never love you
with the passion that I do.
Tell me,
how can he compete with that?

Thought is a boat
on the oceans of mind.
Waves, the emotions,
flow and ebb of the tide.
Curiosity steers the rudder,
Imagination the sails
billow by winds sigh.
Stars are interlect
for the sextant
there to guide
The elements are senses
influenced by outside.

My boat sails forever
upon this deep blue
drawn by the current
in servitude to you.

Need to shake myself
before
I lose my grip.

Been a dour hound
time I think
to take a trip.

These layers of dust
I can shift
once I find my feet.

Got some surface rust,
but beneath
still thumps a steely beat.

Welts on my hands
knuckles cut raw
back is aching
can't work no more.
Been thinking of this
losing a fight with that.
Wish I had a million
or a cowboy hat.
Cast my nets
caught nothing to eat.
I'd place my bets,
but the odds are too steep.

But when I see you
all pain disappears
can't imagine anyone else
beside me in my older years.
You're a priceless love
my buckaroo.
I never feel hugry
when I can feast on you.
I've nothing to risk
since I won your hand.
But when you're not near
I'm a lost useless man,
so I am.

Only takes a small axe
to chop down a tree.
Which one are you
is the other me?
Could be harder to untangle
roots deep weave
from what we have
to who we could be.
Shall we close the book now
go our separate ways
and wonder how the story
could've played?
Or do we carry on growing
creating page after page
trying to forget the trees  
from which they were made?

Your heart's a holster,  
your love the gun.
If I'm a wanted man
I'll not run.
If you're gonna shoot,  
best, shoot me down
by high noon
or the light of the moon,
or with a smile
..

Between steps
her silence paces
ripples of a memory
keep me company.
And I swear at times
I can feel her hand clenching mine
snug deep in an overcoat pocket;
her breath sighing
into my ear
on the verge of uttering,
but words no longer live there
and
how our bodies pressed so close
our heartbeats were
undistinguishable
and everything rhymed.

He made beeswax
from honeycomb caps
scraped,
distilled,
filtered
through a fine muslin sack.
Seeped liquid gathered
dark honey stays there
pure wax floats and cools in a layer
on top.
Removed with care
for the melting ***.

Cotton wick
best braided flat
cut to length the strip
for the hot vat.
Dip
by timely
dip
dressed
a veil,
a shroud,
a cloak.
The chandler's
pale golden coat.

Winds howl
an accumulation of snatched words
none heard falling from shattered mouths.

Shadows stretch
toppled promises never kept,
wishes left to wilt,
dissipated dreams.

Chills creep
verglass eyes
red rimmed
the distant stare.

Night gulps loneliness
deeper than
the vacant swallow
between stars.

Went their separate ways,
but hearts are lagging behind
a waltz filmed in black and white
silent screen flickers in their mind
the goodbye a freeze frame
of a desperate time.

Moved on with their lives,
but the dance doesn't feel right
jukebox earning its coin
throwing out a verse with an aching line.
Lost in rhythm they forgot to rhyme.
Can't hear the tune over the crying.

Somber swings
a dismal edged guillotine
Severing possibility.
t's a bitter sharp taste to a dream
when prospects are soured by reality

Don't hate you,
but you're beginning to bug me
like a hangnail snagging a jeans pocket or a wind-chime in a gale.

Don't hate you,
but you're grating my nerves
like a headcold when I'm out of tissues or having to break a fifty cause I'm eight pence short on change.

Don't hate you,
but you're wearing me down
like a hole in the sole of my only boots when it rains or an intrusive question asked again and again.

Don't hate you,
but I'm getting there.
Don't want to get there,
please leave me alone

We were close once
thick as thieves
less the thieft.
Apart we did drift.
Our rafts were too different.
Floating on consequential seas
as time dictated the tides
and faithful lovers where we moored.
Now even constellations glimmer strange to each other.
Nought in common anymore
except where we started from
along the same stretch of shore

Break some bread for the miller boy.
Pour some ale for him too.
Give him a chair to sit for a while
by a fireplace warm and true.

Play your fiddle-o for the miller boy.
Sing songs that are sweet and bright.
Let him rest his weary-o feet
and dream of peace tonight.

Dreaming of slow dancing
bodies close
eyes closed
arms wrapped round shoulders
hands hooked on nape resting: hers.
on waistline lower back nesting: mine.
Cheek to cheek
calm inhale
perfumed skin
scented hair.
Lips a whisper breath from ear.
Torsos easy sway.  
Pulses vibrate
and beat.
To risk a kiss could ruin this.
I love this song.

Sorrowful wilting petals
those eyes;
bleeding wounded emotions
through the glistening of tears.
Could I evoke hope
for one sitting alone
siphoning reason
from crushed remains
of what's left from what's not right?
Is solitude the only healing grace
time perscribes?
Heavy pleading eyes
searching for where it all went wrong.
Should I approach this stranger
or leave one alone?

Tension hisses through cold shoulder silence
dagger-looks thrown when eyes can't meet
rough minutes grind down day long hours
feel a storm a brewing
in this teacup tonight.

A moon claw of light
ripping thin cloud skin.
Illuminating the thicker swell
with halo bright.
Not enough for stars to perforate and accessorize the night.

One trudging through old mulch
shuffling for a truffle
worth its weight in ink.
Should have looked up sooner,
but who can think
when the gravity of necessity
pressurizes you to remain grounded
and weary eyes to sink.

I rested on a bench on a bank of a canal.
The grey steady sky gradually broke blue.
It was cold, but the sun soon shone through
thawing the chill from my bones.
A sparrow landed beside me on the green metalic seat.
Glanced at me once then eyed
the debris gathered by my feet.
Not spying any decent morsels to eat,
it took to the sky and flew.
As I watched it go
I heard my soul whispering,
"please take me with you."

T's a winter's night and all around
a bitter wind is howling.
Collar's up,
but my mood is down,
I've whiskey enough for drowning.
Cursing my luck and cursing some more
the name behind my feelings
as I walk the grounds
memory's found
a different colour to your eyes.

T'was a summer's day and swallows swooped on sunbeams and lovers laughing.
My spirits were high,
but my heart suddenly sank like stone
cos you said you were leaving.
I begged and swore, prayed and begged,
but you gave me not a reason.
Hopeless the tears
my living fears.
You left swifter than a bird in the sky.

T'is been brittle years and lonely roads my weary feet have been travelling.
Legs keep me up,
but my soul hangs low,
yet I've never stopped my searching.
You flew with my heart
and my heart's stayed with you.
Never will it come returning.
Tramping these roads
has worn out my soul
wishing your memory would fade
and die.

The wind's blustery paw mauled the night
rattling slack shutters and
shuddering corrugated roofs
like small change.
Sodden leaves congregated
in walled corner pockets,
praying for a last crack at dryness
and the playful kick and crunch of kids' feet.
Stray tomcat slunk
beneath
an s.u.v.
cowering at the naked trees
whose limbs fumbled drunkenly.
Not quite Munch's infinite scream,
but the closest thing I want to see
this night.