°

its good to see you 
back writing again ... 
you have a touch 

of something that 
makes your writing 
unique ... individual

I've never put 
my finger on it ... 
and would rather 
        not 
      know these days ... 

I enjoy the poetry ;) 
knowing too much 
would take off its shine.



_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

°

While I slumbered
in the night
and dreamt my Muse
had taken flight
an opalescent moon
had touched my brow

to kiss my cheeks
of fears, for now
above bold mountains
kind stars arrayed
your wonderful gift
of verse displayed



_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

°

Raindrops trickle on a parched forest's brow
Then form translucent puddles in its waist.
Dappled reflections kiss your blushed cheek;
Finger prisms of a moment's dreamy grace.

In the streamlets, your contour takes shape,
Eyes that gaze with wing tips benign
As blooms synchronised on river flow
Summer showers caress your sleepy fields.

 

_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

pursed lips

      spin cycle out of sync:

mud stained vignette

      burbling brooks whisper*


●○
°




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

~


I look at this body of work
and recognise the amount of effort & devotion
that have perseveringly been invested
and in the same breath, realise that this is a man
whose poems shall never be celebrated or cherished.

But it had not deterred him from writing his thoughts
and baring his heart on lines of verse; oceans of metered lines...
His love of language and thought and life evident
in an overwhelming voluminous compilation of nurtured words.
This is a man who knew honesty to the inner self and his Muse.




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

~

in the aftermath
echoes of silence
rise above our mushroom cloud

after all's been said and done
there is no more of you
than there is of me




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

~

a single drop
however large this pond might be

shall ripple
until its furthest bounds
for all the whole, wide world to see

each drop
a poem's clarion ever sounds



_ _ __ ✒
○●
°

Lonely, high-heeled march
Leaving behind an echo-chain
Each one, baring your name

'  

when a biting autumnal breeze 

sweeps past these craggy rocks 

its howling whispers - seducing; 


sparing no thought of mercy 

blinking lights on distant shores 

pontooned my heaving heart 


across these dark brewing waters 

billowy clouds float by, aimlessly 

nonchalant in a blank staring sky



_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

'

I am never without Ludwig 
that mess of tangled hair 
accompanying me with his 
fifth, ninth, and moonlight 

• • • in my now unplugged ears 

for his remains forever
resonant silence against
blaring cacophony of mind
bars on vibrant circus

stereo muted, no longer 
blasting at my need to hear 
thousands of times before 
now lilts, indelibly sealed 

o, but he moves me still




_ _ __ ✒
○●
°

'

a grated gate in midnight's light 
once fell upon a sorry sight 
as rain washed out the scarlet stain 
and skies bowed down to hear their pain 

a voice without a body heard 
the sordid tale its waist did gird 
one witness found, torn leaf by leaf 
Creation's glory then sank to grief 

a tale no word was writ nor said 
into the ground the silence bled 
a soaked and orphaned quill remains 
fraught with want of trilled refrains 

a poet's tome thus lay ungathered 
wispy strands of dreams, untethered 
if Heaven cried its tears that night 
set up our quaich by candlelight




_ _ __ ✒
○●
•

°

When we look not with our eyes 
convince ourselves of impossibilities-

typical gravel turns into motorways 
without tyres, we saw ourselves as cars 

eyes glazed, paved speed of reckoning 
just as rubber tearing at bitumen
 
convinced we will get to there
[that isn't here]
at trip's end, we find ourselves a typical mob 

typical gravel looks like typical gravel 
as we stoop out of that beat-up ute 

our eye catches the side-mirror 
stymied by our shoes that crunch 

making familiar sounds on familiar gravel



_ __ ✒
●○
°

'

On a hand-hewn pedestal 
imagination coalesced; 
on milk-white face, alight 
eyes sparked by a liquid flame. 

Some build ivory towers, 
their hands raw from driven labour, 
on scratched cheeks, a stricken eye 
ransoms a sculpted, orphan dream. 

Across time and the Middle Sea 
another calloused hand chiselled; 
laughter on a pine-white face 
resurrected an ailing heart. 

Some can only imagine 
what others have, without trying; 
when vicarious journeys fail, 
reality's block they will assail.


(A sort of raison d'etre definition for the artist's creation, 
drawing from both the stories of Pygmalion and Geppetto.)

__✒
○●
°

' 

Lulach Mac Gill, may your name 
be remembered still 
another thousand years - 
Freedom's memory fill. 

Let clansmen's voice 
'round the globe, arise 
Breathe in peace you bought 
dear, for Moray and Alba's skies. 

Law, equality and tolerance 
the weak protect 
Protectors of these ideals 
allow us to elect. 

Wield again with deftness 
your claidheamh mòr 
Speak truth, walk in grace 
Be no one's fool, forever more.




_ __ ✒
○●
°

'

Cry we all toward places unnamed 
Rise above the crested hills 

We will yell - shattering door frames 
Plundering thoughts of plovered wills 

Tear at the wallpaper - reveal the grain 
Ink the slate - etched by wound-dipped quills 

Crouch, prowl - ready to pounce on game 
Brandishing swords, blaring trumpets shrill 

Arching backs, phosphorescent wicks aflame 
Ridding netted fish of scales and smelly gills 

Driving forward, driven onward - scourging rain




_ __ ✒
●○
°

°

I have fallen madly 
irretrievably & unashamedly 
in love with you: 

Just as that swathe 
of hair that won't stay in place 
by gel or product or spit; 

You have fallen blandly, 
irrevocably & unscathedly 
out of love with me: 

Just as that scab
off, skin-on-the-mend that's pink 
by band aid & ointment fix'd.




_ __ ✒
○●
°

° 

*It's never easy to step out into the sunlight 
away from the safety of your walls - indoors. 
Sometimes you forget just how hard it can get, 
Until a door slams shut in your face in midstep- 
knowing that you threw out the key to yours. 

It's never fair when you give your heart away, 
only to find out their forever ended yesterday- 
That you will from here on forward love on, 
caring for both your heart and theirs forever 
while the unrequitedness would be for sure. 

It's never too late to hope and dream of good; 
all will be well if we trust in the heart we love- 
that what has brought us together upholds, 
until a window opens up and lets light in again: 
darkness has no place - forever eternally bright.

' 

Wake up 
talk back 
don't tell me 
what I lack, 
save up 
turn back 
bring along that 
fav'rite song 
don't tell me 
I've no social 
conscience 
wasting my 
poetic licence 
turn back 
to your real self 
your hunger for 
poetic justice 
look up 
the sky's 
still higher 
than your highest 
tower 
let down your 
flaxen locks 
your ivory walls 
are too slick 
come with me 
where the air 
is free 
and maybe, 
just maybe 
for once we'll agree.




_ __ ✒
●○
°

'

stately tall, you meekly stand 
on your finger the signet band 
for my sake you shunned your crown 
for my breath your devotion fierce 

you gave for me your sword and squire 
your hospitality did never tire 
proud brothers in battle or play 
companionly we went about each day 

in your shadow I had no care 
my home's cupboards were never bare 
song and merriment never missed 
hunger a stranger to my lips 

your place at court set second to mine 
your heart pure - best fruit of the vine 
your eyes reflect esteem so dear 
no man's affection held so near 

O gallant Prince, in battle slain 
my soul cries out for you in pain 
why you've set Saul's crown on my head - 
a long-held secret I shan't covet 

My lord, could one ever repay; 
the debt of friendship's love dismay? 
to live this life as noble and true 
to generously care and give as you 

Prince of the Realm, if you could hear 
the Scroll of the Upright, loud and clear 
in the Song of the Bow proclaimed 
praise of our filial bond inscribed. 




_ __ ✒
○●
°

'

See, a smiley or a lack thereof 
doth not a writer make 

but dressing-up like Antoinette 
doth usually win the cake 

what equine sacrifice will meet 
agreement for disagreeing? 

for if a quill with parchment wed 
shan't send the torments fleeing 

pour ale, splatter ink, mine friends 
send Smiley-in-trousers twirling!



_ __ ✒
○●
°

'

Striving toward originality 
results in piece meal offerings - 
bright but witless understanding? 
statements pondering universalities 
feeding warm pulsating bosoms 

idling too long, byte by byte 
millennial automatons marching 
logged-off but only hibernating: 
underneath, aware of scratches 
on rock-faces of now ancient halls.




_ __ ✒
●○
°

. 




The door shuts behind, 
key turns, footsteps 
stravege after 
a tedious shift; 

eyes lift up 
then revert back 
to telly, magazine, 
PS3 and tablet. 

The dining table 
is empty yet cluttered 
inhabited by non-edible 
non-essential stuff. 

'There should be 
something or other 
in the fridge, ' 
a mouth points. 

'Got that, thanks.' 
Footsteps stravege back, 
that's what it feels like 
to be a meal-ticket. 

The door slams shut.



_ __✒
●○
°

'

Love of the unrequited type... 
Ah! How paradoxical it be! 
Even more paradoxical 
Than that of the returned type... 

return to me my boomerang 
if ironic paradox be 
bring on your wings an offering 
return to set this captive free 

Love is love whether returned or not. 

It gives all meaning to life, 
But when not returned 
It drives us into insanity! 
Constantly contemplating 
Upon what may or may not be... 

provide a reason, supply a rhyme 
keep despair exiled forever 
to hearts a breathe of gentle clime 
elixir to heart's endeavour 

If you have not experienced 
This type of love, 
This unrequited love 
Then you shall not understand 
The joyous part. 
You will think it all tragic. 
But there is a joyous part! 

you freely give from joyous grace 
once prisoner of love withheld 
escape on wings of kiss' embrace 
receive twin souls, tender fire meld 

Love is love whether returned or not. 

my need reaches to the heavens 
despaired reply from there to find 
where is that spark this chest quickens 
love without truth is love unkind 

Whether that person feels the same or not, 
I still love her, and to have someone 
That I love so much, 
Brings certain joy unto me... 
But certain grief to not recieve the love in return... 

It is the most tragic grief 
And the most joyous joy 
At the same time! 

Love, paradox of paradoxes!




_ __ ✒
●○
°

'

Sit down with me awhile, my Love 
Let's leave the world behind; 
This hour belongs to us alone: 
Our moment etched in time. 

Lean upon my shoulder, Sweet 
And press your cheek to mine. 
Let's set our eyes to spy upon 
Our promised ever-after, find. 

Rest your arm upon my knee 
And hold that smile again. 
Another spot is next in line 
On our wedding photography.




_ __ ✒
○●
°

'

The TV is my shepherd, I shall not want.
It maketh me to lie down on the sofa.
it leadeth me away from the scriptures;
It destroyeth my soul,
It leads me in the path of *** and violence;
For the sponsors' sake.
yea,  though I walk in the shadow of my Christian responsibilities
There will be no interruptions
For the TV is with me.
Its cable and remote control, they comfort me!
It prepareth an infommercial before me
In the presence of my worldliness;
It anointeth my head with humanism.
My coveting runneth over....
Surely,  laziness and ignorance shall follow me
All the days of my life,
And I shall dwell in the house, watching TV, forever.
Amen.




_ __ ✒
○●
°

'

Post counter's clocked
a year's worth
of daily poetry;
a century
of friends and
commentary.

How is it possible?
that even here,
in this very place,
life by numbers-
we can't hold dear.

Perhaps, as in a road trip
flying past milestones,
it's all a blur
until a window's rolled down
an apple core's thrown out:
a fleeting glimpse of

where we were.



_ __ ✒
○●
°

'

Arise, and walk along these streets, 
breathe and partake these dregs 
of the mighty industrial age; 
paint effulgent colours of its appeal - 

toxic fumes that light our path 
to days only just imagined. 


Parted lips bare wisdom, 
shatter silence that shackles; 
within parched throat, sealed 
sounds peal from indolent belfries - 

tender whispers caress 
each unknown orphaned heart. 


Lift high, bright banners brave; 
let the bitter winds bite 
lash fierce against tattered frame, 
light shines through gaping holes- 

release the soul's query: 
How can one forgive what is forgotten? 


Illumine that dim horizon; 
extricate each sole from bog and mire. 
Grab bugler's morning call, 
Borrow its voice if you must - 

Stir up the spirit from slumber; 
the dark of night will not prevail.




_ _ ✒
○●
°

'

Arise, and walk along these streets, 
breathe and partake of these dregs 
of the mighty industrial age; 
paint effulgent colours of its appeal - 

toxic fumes that light our path 
to days only just imagined. 


Parted lips bare wisdom, 
shatter silence that shackles; 
within parched throat, sealed 
sounds peal from indolent belfry - 

tender whispers caress 
each unknown orphaned heart. 


Lift high bright banners brave; 
let the bitter winds bite 
lash fierce its tattered frame, 
light gapes through its holes- 

release the soul's query: 
How can one forgive what is forgotten? 


Illumine that dim horizon; 
extricate each sole from bog and mire. 
Grab the morning call, 
Borrow its voice if you must - 

Stir up the spirit from slumber; 
the darkness of night will not prevail.




_ _ ✒
○●
°

'

Mother, Mother
are you crying?
Come and look,
the roses are dying.

Mother, Mother
I am hungry.
Come and see,
the dishes are piling.

Mother, Mother
I am lonely.
Come and hear,
My heart's key is snapping.

Mother, Mother
are you sleeping?
Come and run,
Let's play in the sun once more.



_ _ ✒
○●
°

'

Heart tattoos and hidden scars,
bumpy rides from Venus to Mars.  
Hunters and heinous jungles,
oceans and other bungles.
Who brings this beauty
amid our chasmic chaos?





_ _ ✒
○●
°

'

Can anyone really tell
(what difference there is)
clear to querying mind(s):

How is it we could not
savour the pungent, heavy clouds
before the pulling of the breeze?

Further, afar off,
one imagines future life
daily waiting - awash

tranquil staccato whispers -
permeate my porous soul
after the pelting of evening rain.




_ _ ___✒
○●
°

'

would you 
for the love of 
me 
tie this lace 
upon a tree 

when the wind 
upon it blows 
my heart 
on yonder river flows





_ ✒
○●
°

'

You have been much more 
to many a progressively 
ailing heart, 
in the eloquence 
of whispered words - 
watch them alight on 
the pages of a poem. 

What in the waving 
of waxing thought; 
words copiously flow 
in the effervescent 
glow of lilting rhyme - 
solitary images 
march the desert storm. 

Amnesty provides no relief: 
no human deed can make amends, 
the speed of apologies fail 
to outrun the steam roller 
of resolute demeanour. 
Once the balm of intimating breath 
now asphyxiates tomorrow's hope. 

Put forth in plain speech 
what now in riddles present 
then lay a poignant wreathe upon 
this wailing, bardic crypt. 
Underneath its gravestone, find 
wispy embers of yesterdays 
awaiting phoenix wings' climb. 

Hence in its turn let generosity provide 
this grievous dagger a sheath to hide.




_ _ __ ✒
○●
°
'

'

if there be but two 

on this twilight moon's 

landscape, there might be 

in a galaxy of its own 

a hidden treasure trove 

of good and loved things 

that can be opened up 

and relished each day!




____✒
○●
°

'

Belying this despised state 

you hunch upon shuffling feet, 

pondering the crunch of browned leaves. 



Burrowing this dusty soil 

you hide beneath scurrying paws, 

forgetting the crash of billowy waves. 



Blowing out raspy breath 

you pucker withered lips; 

release cotton-downed doves. 



Bellowing against the horizon 

you herd the flock from grazing; 

shackled gates embrace nightfall. 





__✒
○●
°

'


uneasy presence 
of someone 
once known 
even loved - 

the space 
however 
gaping wide: 
cloying, 

suffocating; 
treacle bath 
easily sealing 
claustrophobic 
asphyxiation



_ _ ✒
○●
°

'

Who can tell the difference 
between gallantry and deceit; 
that is clear only to 
the querying breeze? 

Who could not smell 
the pungent heavy cloud 
before the pulling of 
the petulant wind? 

Further, afar off, no one inquires 
about foreseen mornings unseen 
dreams once winged zephyrs 
echo in forgotten hallways. 

Perched high on rock faces grim 
beneath the humming of the bird, 
awash on porous promontories - 
failure now permeates the abject soul.




_  _  __  ✒
○●
°

'


Steely, piercing gaze 
steady and calculated 
scorn-etched lips, pout 
scathed grains discolour 

pearly teeth bared 
proudly held chin, gloats 
pencilled thoughts 
permanently carve this soul 

crafty words sliver 
carefully orchestrated chaos 
cornering all resolution 
creased yesterdays wither




____✒
○●
°

'

No longer looked up to 
at least not as much as before 
no longer consulted 
or given the usual care 

No longer do cogs congregate 
not even to syncopate 
Time keeps ticking away 
although this clock's hands stay 

Where has the cuckoo flown to? 
Where shall it alight? 
Somewhere the sand has rested, 
glinting like stars in the night. 





_ _ __ ✒
○●
°

' 


*Provide us just scales 
with which to measure 
determine the truth 
provide no displeasure 

be objective and distant 
make sure you're blindfolded 
mete out the verdict 
swift and without fail. 

But for the value of life 
remember your own 
Each breath you take 
opportunities blown 

Justice is never served 
for the dead remain dead 
their chances forfeited 
memories defaulted 

punitive arrangements 
may placate the bereaved 
but the dead remain deceased. *





_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

'

*Dour faced 
you stepped into a gaping precipice 
leaving me with 
my face moist 

at the threshold 
(its frame now leaning 
to one side 
splintered and unhinged.) 

Did I tell you that my front door 
never opened to the street? 
Maybe I never had the need to; 
you always entered through the back door, 

you always crept out the window 
to play in the sun. 
This time was different: 

Before another word could be spoken 
you rushed past me 
brushing my outstretched arm(s) . 
Then all I could see 

was your hair tumbling in the air 
as your limbs flailed 
while you plummeted out of my life. *





_ _ __✒
●○
°

'

We are a family of nations 
built on legend and lore 
the sun never sets on us 
our bounds, on far-off shores 

Our heritage ancient and rich 
nestled in values just and pure 
from Arthur's chivalrous table round 
to all the lands of earth secure 

This War was great and at much cost 
it changed our world and how we live 
we fought for freedom, side by side 
for future gains, our lives did give 

Our sacrifice transformed us all 
and forged a new identity 
Empire, no longer subservience 
but for brotherhood and equality






____✒
○●
°

' 


Less than a bell's ****** 
fainter than a whistle 
stars in the sky twinkle 
your breath a hushed whisper 

O the tiniest sparkle 
dapple on glassy water 
far from distant heckles 
my soul freed from shackles





_ _ __✒
○●
°

'

faceless number 
screen flicker 
thermal print out 
fades in summer

walk the line 
find some time 
primal scream 
stuccoed spring 

mudprint carpet 
trigger finger 
curdled milk 
forgotten winter 

stadium heckler 
prison clatter 
barred existence 
cushions the fall




____✒
○●
°

'

*Data storage now keeps forgotten memories; 
images and words from jubilant revelries. 

The clock is a blur of digits these days 
and nothing is clear but tomorrow's maze. 

So off we go to bury unwitnessed sunsets; 
replacing our garden beds with plastic regrets. *




____✒
○●
°

'


Let a song rise through your tears,
Let a smile crease your wet cheeks.
Invoke kindness even when pain follows;
Let the bright of morning kiss your lips.


Let this song, its sounds caress
They wipe away languid raindrops and
make echoes flee in the dark of night;
A long day floats away in its melody.


Let sleep, quietly soft, lift you upwards
into the crook of its gentle arms tonight.
Let twinkling stars line your misty dreams.
Set sail on a shimmering crystal sea.




____✒
○●
°
'

my eye 
is caught by a photograph 

my ear 
records a voiceless cry 

whispering brilliant streaks 
tiny hairs all quivering on 
my skin 

raindrops pelting 
crystal teeth glaring 
tearing away 

my tongue 
forms a quiet reply 

my nose 
wiggling at a brooding sky*




____✒
○●
°

'


revolutions of the second hand 
are innumerable to the watchful eye, 
which has not comforted this bruising *

...shame 

nor can heart's run far enough away 
from pulsing, cancerous gangrene; 
and off to the darkest mile it treads* 

...softly *

in the cooling of a fading day, 
a gentle crushing blow fixes completely 
the drowning, despondent smiles 

...of yesterday 

as wafting wavelets wail forlornly, 
while whispering affections now silent; 
hearkening back to more innocent times 

...found wanting *



____✒
○●
°

'

The weary social consciousness arose, 
the adulation reveals 
the personification of hope; 
What of our communal yesterday? 

We, the refugees of our past mistakes, 
embodied by a bush that no longer burns, 
consumed in the fervent disappointment and disgust. 

Our faith is now rewarded - 
an olive branch has been offered; 
and on one shoulder lay what we only 

dare to hope, 'Perhaps, perhaps...' 
The journey to that time and day 
begins today, sworn in resolutely. 

The weary arise to lift their chins. 
The din roars above the pros and cons. 
The person to lead a nation and a globe sworn in again. 
What of our communal tomorrow...?






____✒
○●
°

' 


auction your ciphers 
whether cryptic or plain; 
express your disdain, 
princes and paupers, 
your joys and your pains 

upload them web-wide, 
your caustic protuberance; 
spread digital conflagration 
let relentless talons purge 
the sting of sulfur on brimstone






___✒
○●
°