'

He sometimes feels he may be blind, 
or just afraid of what others see. 
And what he speaks or sees or thinks 
is never what they reckon it should be. 
He is careful, vigilant, and repressed 
'coz in their light he is forever undressed. 






____✒
○●
°

' 

shadowed 
in early evening's 
darkened corner 

his smile 
responds to your 
gruff remark 

and you 
do not see 
the tear 

rolling 
from his cheek 
he turns 

the faintest hint 
of sadness 
cloaks his eye






____✒
○●
°

'

squashed cabbage leaves, 
crushed petals, broken stems 
strewn along grey slush 


wind whisks cobbled street, 
gravel crunches under 
hooves and booted feet 


rain-drooped marquees 
whisper freshest gossip; 
clock tower tolls on the hour



__✒
○●
°

' 



as a child once, to a favoured toy,
countless hours of pristine joy;
but specifications of 'all growed-up' ploy,
memories of past pleasures, now destroy




_✒
●○
°

My quest for the 'extended metaphor' is flowing 
into the daily beat of my typical day. 

Something of my day is breathing out meaning and song - 
expressing and teaching me with whispers that can blare so loudly 
that their silence flashes blindingly with a brilliance that shadows 
the darkness and illumines the gentle curves of Truth. 

My quest takes me on a journey where I can no longer lay back and watch the rising and setting of the sun, the moon, and yes, even the stars that crown a head filled with dreams and thoughts in that sable field that is beyond and within us.... 

Something of this day shall imprint itself in my soul and yell out invectives.... grabbing my shoulders and throttling my awareness. 

My quest requires that I take on my gear and trek the unknown twists and turns, of unchartered horizons, and risk the possible heartache.... 
it compels me to be the sun, the moon, and yes, even the stars - traversing the vast expanse of universal experience.... 

Something in this day shall filter into my nights nagging and wailing, crooning and serenading - lifting my spirits with its rise and ebb.... and as I float on midnight blues and obsidian hues, I sense one thought forming: 

My quest is yours, and the universality of human experience shall meld our separate yet mirrored conditions into a unified expression of what we vainly and clumsily perceive and call 'love'.


__✒
○●
°

'


There are days 
in which songs are stifled 
or the throat hoarse and weary 
No more softly gliding notes - 
of raked leaves dance across 
a freshly littered lawn 
their butterfly wings 
hung up in expectant wait 
for another sunny day. 

There are nights 
that stars squander 
their luminescence 
on unappreciative lovers 
listlessly roaming by 
a moonlit shore 
their brilliant points 
curl up in the hope 
of another cloudless night. 

There are mornings 
that sizzle on the stove 
that sparkle sweet tangy-ness 
hands clasping across the table 
reliving life's love-filled moments 
the warmth of the kitchen 
reflects fervent esteem 
done up in various colours 
for each new morning.




____✒
●○
°

'

The well has not gone dry, 
less frequented maybe 
by both the drawers and 
the occasional passers by. 

The stones are loose; 
between them, mortar dissolves- 
by clement or contrary 
weather on seasonal cue. 

The vessel is parched 
and longs for its lover 
by pulley once lowered 
its rope frayed with disuse.





____✒
○●
°

'

'I was born half alive, the other half partly insane.' 
she dribbles inaudibly...... grinning coquettishly; 

and in between, there is no apology. 

Even the deaf can fathom underhanded effrontery. 
She however, will not brandish fangs without syrup.







____✒
○●

'

Let's slaver with anticipation
as your taunts fly past
let us grapple you
while your fangs pierce
and vilest venom spreads

numb our soul and mind

let us scream and cringe
agonise upon this page
let blankness reign supreme
slay this potent pen
for all of eternity

make your emptiness pristine

hover around our carcass
you scavenging vulture
eat away our rotted entrails
tear at sinews, limb from limb
pluck blind eyes and vitals

drain the fluids of creativity

cloying leech on pallid skin
halt our writing and our speech
in your acid, our verses bleach
let us writhe, mouth agape
drink your unquenchable thirst

hit us hard with writer's block




____✒
○●'

there is always
that one photo
that floats around the house,

that when you pick it up,  
picks up with it
a storm of memories

and jumbled feelings.

Still it floats
in random spaces,
lying in wait,

like a lioness
ready to pounce,
awaiting its prey*





___✒
●○
Cross reference: same poem (or at least same feeling; different words and different time-place)

I still can't look at your photograph
without choking up or getting ill
could I ever seriously consider
giving up my affections for you
why have you gone, so abruptly ahead?

Gazing upon your visage, on print
all knotted up and confused still
my emotions, rambling wild river
gaining us words no longer true
why am I left here with heart unfed?





___✒
○●

'

Come not into my soul,
You are not whom I love!
For even out of that
My heart will surely perish.

When my soul is bursting
As a fiery bolt ablaze,
My heart in fevered embrace!
Through my furious bleeding;
Come not near unto my soul,
You are not whom I love!

Do not you touch my soul,
You are not whom I love!
Worn is the the heart with want
Where my bursting bruised it.
Breathe-in not that blue fire,

Do not lean you upon my soul;
You are not whom i love -
Who now with my languor rests,
Lest from out of my bleeding
My fevered heart perish.





____✒
●○

cease turning my green to grey
with wilful acts of nature
your heart is found in theirs
providing for the urgency
to lose love's indifference,
redeem that part of self
that once felt only for you*






____✒
○●

~ a tribute to Emily and Brontëan style poetry, bit of a throwback from the late 80s.
'



The night has fallen around us

And the wind, it savagely blows;

A wicked mood is cast upon me,

One from which I cannot go.



Flickering orbs, on lamp posts loom,

casting forth a sickly yellow light;

A storm from deep within advances,

And still no hope for me to go.




Heavy leaded clouds drape the sky,

The paving just as dark below;

Such sight it fails to move me,

I cannot, and I will not, go.






____✒
●○

by this way 
each new day 
you let float 

your paper boat 

down a fast 
running stream 
that holds no dreams






____✒
○●

roil toil bubble and boil
let news, your appetite spoil*



Ever get those feelings

as you sit at 6 p.m.

watching the newscast

horrified & helpless?




One day you wil;l as well

put into glaring words

what in your heart, you see:

things that should not be




____✒
○●

acceptance is essential,
more so than tolerance,
but together, they allow
for steps towards - - belonging






____✒
○●

happiness is optional
when stuff is essential
stuff is good, tangible
solid and reliable
extended warranty

for mind's peaceability

paypass, paywave, swipe & tab
point of sale, so cool and fab
loads of in app purchases
satisfaction in downloadable zen  
else, opt out and start again.*







____✒
●○

Try and try until you die
Lie and lie, you'll one day, fry.
No truth of a lie, it's a lying truth
Each deception our conscience sooth
Each untruth told leaves momma cold
It towers tall before that great big fall
To be true to self is to be true to all
Look in the mirror, what do you see
A pure image of self, struggling to be free.

run now! Quick!
run, blindly ran
through the jungle
cut and punctured
in this abrasive

rain forest chainsaw
and that rain....
that driving rain
shall always be
whip cracking me

run to where?
ran to where
my soul stripped bare
washed of all iniquity
each droplet, jubilant

tiny screams of release
pelting at my guilt
mirroring my defeat
and the rain didn't mind
there was an axe to grind*







__✒

messenger of night
blessed angel
bearer of delight
I pray this gift
borne from above
be peace and joy
that dwells in my heart.*





____✒
■▪

So many winter friendships
save but a few
thaw with the sparkle of spring__✒

Straddle me with lip-gloss pout,
ensnare your prey with lip-sheen smile:


lift firm pecs to eye-shadow wink,
eye-liner proposition this studied guile;


and I have naught to live for now
than be with you for just a while__✒








○●•°

your name
still
another thousand
memories fill.

your voice
lifts
clear above chimneys
forever shrill.

your form
cryptic silhouette
of faceless clocks' idyllic
secrets spill.

your gait
saunters
deftness on pointe --
pleuritic thrill.






____✒

There is maybe 
in each burst of 
energy, a product 
of fanaticism filling 

the air or the cities 
when the limbs 
of trees hail the 
soldiers to the war. 

Perhaps in each 
bellow, the burst 
of energy produces 
fanatic followers. 

Perhaps in each 
gust, the rush of 
wind uproots all 
modicum of calm. 

Perhaps in each 
caterwaul, the limbs 
of protest raises 
interjective receipt. 

Each is a product 
maybe, without 
hope of reprieve: 
alone in time; Perhaps. 





____✒
•

Once, so many years ago,
in a distant place and clime;
our thoughts and life we shared,
each move, in perfect time.

Words in unison, hearts pulsed,
so intimate, each gesture;
each expression, fears repulsed,
companions of great measure.

Now it seems we're worlds apart;
nothing more in common share.
The last desired thing to start,
to fray bonds beyond repair.

Tomorrow bears no sunrise
with correspondent promise;
about oneself, do realise,
quite a monstrous fate remiss.

This callow heart has not learnt
to let bygones be bygone;
from past flames this quill has burnt;
perhaps hope returns at dawn.

Beat upon this chest with song,
this erring mind do chasten;
free the earth you've held so long,
remind these feet to hasten.






____✒
.

Into a new dark age
we go, marching,
careening headlong

[of soapbox poetry
there is no want
for many voices
loudly rail and rant]

the terrain of our
condition and that
of our experience
has changed over
year upon year of
progress that brings
us closer to the edge
of a generation that
lives on the horizon

itself

peering further on

yonder

to challenges invisible
to our yet untrained minds

so a new era begins
pioneering unexplored
vastnesses and
before unrecognised
darknesses

while on the remotest reaches
bright lights we yet have
to define and harness

they beckon
to our whetted appetite
for tomorrows.

[Into itself, beyond vast darkness,
a remote beacon
shall illumine our destiny.]





____✒

as the hourglass
shatters
a-
- - - long the endless
shore,

our world spills
unto the infinite cosmos:
it, being but a speck
in greater timeglass-
bounded parameters,

and so on and so forth.

Perhaps
the ride we could've missed
is on its own
a ride within another:
twists its twirling in the mind. 


__✒

Up to a point
leaves will seep
into all its waters
until the cup overflows

so much as to stain
meticulously starched table linen.
Then we shall face with reckoning
its true substance!*






__✒

What's hard about dreams,
is getting stuck in the dreaming.

first light filters
parts curtains
of night's slumber
vision caresses
flight seduces
somewhere
up there, free
fleet of wing
soaring reward
fruit of doting
in spite of peril
flavoured feast

•○●° hence my heart ever welcomes
daedalean destructive doting.






_____✒□

skulking in the
shadows
lengthen, low
in the day
conjure
spells on iambs
and lyric lines
verses divine
then post & run
high on muses
wine
sup and dine
rationing
cups of universe
ladling sustenance
down our throats
from birth to hearse.





___✒

Many dreams,
like bubbles
in a child's playtime,
drift away and pop.

Deepest of use, arise, 
surface and make yourself known. 
Here in our verse, 
before our very eyes. 

Don't be obtuse, surprise
For lace and drink aren't thrown
Where blow our verse
Away, from prying eyes.

Deign a ruse to pries
From place holders, flowers grown
There a garden of verse
Our one redeeming prize.

Blue skies over horizon, today
child arrives, jumps about
looking pretty and tall
the only sure part-- that dust
flying; near silence
where fireflies . . . . wait

now, yellow dust fades
into green beginnings
then fireflies once more




___✒

Tendril wafted dunes
of barren sands waffle,
swirl across mile
upon mile in every direction-
your face appears a horizon away,
there is little comfort found
in accompanying echoes.

Drifting sticks
wail in the pitched wind,
stretched on distant recollection-
stylus of the scribe named Regret;
each flurrying breeze
turns a new page,
taking with it freshly shed tears.

Foetid droppings
of some wastrel desert vagabond
provide a vivid reminder
of how it can never be again,
to kick it away
would only contaminate
these well-worn wandering shoes.

Head facing forward
wherever the nose points
except in the back of the mind
where the oasis burbles-
each leafy frond conceals
intimate moments now buried
within the unmindful desert's gut.






___✒

Rough is the wind that flattens
a tree from its anchored moor,

a destiny not too quick to ruin
presents a whispered word to me:

on we traverse without respite
that weary road we take,

what imprint is left behind
that sweeps relentlessly against these walls--

a spectre of bygone landscapes
whose blustering gusts are raptured calls

Coal-bright heat
pulsates a primal beat,
this light burns white
in the squalid night.

The windswept fury
in a drunken flurry,
toppled kerosene lamp
leaves the table damp.

Morning slips in sly,
waking the bleary eye;
pollen grain breezes
peddles raucous sneezes.

Drenched in heavy morning rain
Like an arctic soaking, to the vein;
I just sat there stunned and wordless,
by the results of endless tests.

Only do I seek the scoffer's sympathy;
my litanies dot the bottom of this timpani.
No restaurant on high street offers...
Whoa! I found where my sanity rests:

A very comforting hand takes mine,
The other hand, by her child as well.
I draw dry ice sculptures in my mind,
While a hawk’s screech rings overhead.





_✒

Once,
so long ago now, it seems;
Every thing touched
& everywhere
that I turned,
her scent permeated
both air & skin.

lead me onward
allure of indoctrinated
heavy footed steps

traipse in white letters
inked on white pages
then ask me, why?

in my sleep
I write myself poems
buried deep
secret of ancient tomes
therein my heart roams
thereat my soul did leap

Brown in the sun
of the midday born
Silken strands
of crested corn

sparks light the sky
brilliant welder's flash
jewel in disguise
jouster's winning prize.

Jack was nimble
he was quick
but he's not taking
that candlestick.

All the queen's horses
and all the queen's men
run their own courses
then run them again.

from the ground
the ceiling looks so much wider
from the ground
its cracks seem much finer

the paint peels -
minute flags, off-white surrender;
the paint peals -
egg shells of heavy footed plunder...

revelation fall free
on this soul that has been bound
revelation fall free,
release this pretender from the ground

a little cottage of goodies built
along the path to home does sit

don't be allured,  make haste
from distraction,  stay chaste

crown your head with sweet nectar
let candy-lined kisses border

shall you consider
with a glance
what ails this
wracked chest
to whisper?

may you come here
on a chance, outside
while painted-over grills
creak & strain to open:

encrusted gates
await firm hands.
therein, opulent
niceties are mute,
minute breaths, plenty.

some may prefer violence
to being always ignored
a busted lip,  a swollen eye
to being always bypassed

some prefer constant abuse
to being always neglected
a bruised ego, a battered thigh
to being always unattended

it ***** to be nobody
so a price we steeply pay
enmeshed, convoluted reality
to co-dependent toxicity

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!

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.

my finger traces 
a still barely 
visible band 
on my fourth finger 


our ex-anniversary 
is now my memory 

a constant companion 
to might-have-beens 

yesterday had so much 
prospect and promise 
today I face a sink 
filled with ***** dishes

the road stays while we move onward 

yet connects from our here to there 
this life's complications on it unwind 

by it we return homeward-bound, trusting: 

a trick we learned from Gretel & Hansel 
assured that it is safe to venture out 

while we move forward, roads stay put