'

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




_ __ ✒
●○
°

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.

hard as we try to remember
grinding up mindless banter

green grass, yellow slander

what good is hay to a dead horse,
or a spring dried at its source?*




_ _ __✒
●○
°

'

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. 





__✒
○●
°

courtliness promenades
intimate exchanges
crystal refractions

burst in a myriad
of coloured light
music to one's toes

jazzy fingers and
ballet chin, poised:
poetical interludes*





●○
°

scowling at threatening storm clouds
sombre as a brooding sky
these errant thoughts stumble
and flounder, leaving tear ducts dry:
exhuming an abundant cascade
of strained expressions that reflect
a stained and bedraggled soul whose
fond recollections fail to connect.

Butterflies are but pretty memories
Greeting cards flying in the breeze
Fondest thoughts and worthwhile care
Recollecting pony tails and braided hair
Plastic tiaras, capes, and sceptres
Dress up games, now hallowed spectres
Wings renewed throughout new days
Nectar to this soul, filled in many ways.

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.





_✒

"the eyes have it"
but they don't - -
blanker darkness,
glassy, stare of
fish no longer
able to breathe;
those eyes had it,
perhaps they did,
but now no more

sometimes indecisiveness
is just the wrongest decision
for anyone to ever make

sometimes we just have
to dive in and go with our gut
embracing whatever may result;

sometimes, apologies are enough
when things don't go your way
because it's time to do it mine

sometimes, getting first time right
is not what your life has shown
so, it's okay for me to have another go

it's only taken forty years for you
to realise you love me and be proud
perhaps another forty'll make you really care

your boomer ways are so busted
they don't work here and now
perhaps I need to find my own way

it won't break your ego to be supportive
respect is not earned but extended
perhaps you only need to trust & believe;

every time my child's heart breaks
a memory jolts this scathing parody
perhaps this curse can be broken still:

it doesn't take much to make it right

one shall never a proper poet be...
save by those that look upon thee,
however, it is their perception, see;
thought & feelings through words set free.*



●○
°

thou hast waxed sarcastic
to mock and disrespect the
misfortunes of another's need
whether male or female
of varied colour and creed

why dost thou behave unseemly
become as a clanging cymbal
blustering as sounding brass?
kindle again, first love's flame
before it's too late, unsweet charity

°

a bardsong soars as waters
soaking
my rooted, versant digits

boundless accoutrement
caressing
each, with tendrilled deftness

liquid crystals frolic
cascading
envelops my vision
                  of your solicitude

we will rise together
and float, forever
descending
into each other

until there is no breath
within music
rising
on spray roused crags



_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

Tame the boy who walks by desert flame
Fight for causes and justice reclaim
Sleep soundly to dancing candlelight
Kind dreams moat your castle by night
While sunshine unveils a hope enshrined 
That weaves together, your hearts entwined.

'  

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



_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

Beautiful Smiles are what friends are to me. 
And the smile of the heart, the best that can be. 

For the friend of the heart in times severe 
no other gift than your presence sincere 

My forever friend is the best companion in life, 
a friend that sticks closer even in times of strife.

Deep within you
lay a sea-poem 
of long ago; 

where air is fresh 
but blusters wildly 
when southerlies blow, 

slick and slimy silt,
mud between the toes- 
mangrove's brackish home. 

White-caps dance 
in the open channel 
close to where corals grow. 

But further than the distance 
of childhood recollection, 
where starfish-lined parades 
demanded retrospection: 

Gone are those carefree days 
along with sands, white as snow; 
somewhere deep within you 
lay a coastal tale of long ago.*





_ _ __ ✏
●○
°

it's hard to hear yourself thinking
when hate on hate is all around
there's a cry for freedom ringing
its price: to keep another bound

our goals require such liberties
which defy our mental capacities
we hope it's worth all the drama;
our vengeful acts stripped of karma*


●○
°

Fourteen billion ears
And not a pair to listen
Fourteen billion eyes
Ignore the running captions
Seven billion tongues
Wag 24/7 on worldwide web
Still, bosoms burn and burst
Ne'er a lack of words to display
Keyboard fingers clenching:
Cacophonous asphyxiation.





______wsd__
✴The Wimpole Street Devils✴
words, words, words, you'd get sick of words from them now from you
all night long, all day through
that is all that us blighters could do.

when biting autumnal breeze

sweeps past these craggy rocks

its howling whispers - seducing;

sparing no thought of mercy --

blinking lights on distant shore

pontooned my heaving heart

across dark "brewding" waters,

astride bland but porous sky

billowy clouds float aimlessly by

atypical,
in conclusive
      after conviction
once enough--
all-sufficiency
independent of
popular priorities

is to Be or Not
perhaps apart
from partying
to debaucheries

atypical
               this love
begottenness from above
alights anew, like a dove
heaven-sourced repatriation
     vile, in estimation
clouded vision, rejected
by inutile estimation

until a singular day
glistens in the sky

put on your headphones and  listen*




●○
°

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

~ from hundred and one sibilant regrets at Le Mont Parnasse

Pity this block of timber -
though statuesque; mourns -

whose lines and curves are stately,
whose manner refined symmetry:

its shavings receive a swift send off;
kindling, on this frigid winter morn...

Teary-eyed tattle tale
Spazzing fingers
No way to hide it
Streaks on cheeks
Zigzagging onto lace
And leather zipped atrocities
You look with steely eyed gaze
But then again you'll never know.

ribald footprints 
of a silent, broken guitar 
rendezvous with an ebbing tide:
recalcitrant thoughts wash away
along this sandy shore.

what have you done?
giving voice to silence,
wings to unspoken thoughts,
face to emotions deeply masked;
solid darkness now made bright
where unuttered words take flight
making them no longer alone.

you can hear the flipping
of calendar pages, and the
clink of champagne glasses
the roar of flashing fireworks
and rustling of fabric under
randomly launched hugs&kisses;
what old acquaintance is there
where forgotten woes blend
into hopes of a soul resolved



●○
°
btw, welcome 2016* :-))

● you'd think we could
just cut and paste away
to change things around

deleting ● what's ● not
then inserting what's hot
and she'll be all right●nah!

we can't flick the channels
or download a ● new ● app
for life, hard as we might try*




●○
•

little bundle
loud and quiet
always in cookie jar

meatball slaloms
sudsy soap and
band-aid wrappers

life, once tabula rasa
an empty page
now coloured-in*



●○
°

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.

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

just because you're a pro and
cope and turn it all around
doesn't make it less difficult, 
definitely not any less lonely

when the sun plays hide and seek
solar panels are less appealing
when this moonlit night's cloudy
night time jaunts seem less romantic

could they have been sarcastic
when they said all's fair in love
and winning war is fantastic
while keeping peace makes us starve

one day silent pens get justice; though
the voice that's heard is loudest
but each strain of a balladeer's refrain
are the words that make us honest*




●○
°

paisley prints on
sunflower smiles
sitting alongside
a leopard that so

happily munched
on grated parsley
paw in hand now
waiting on the sand

for flying fish to skip
on cobalt banners as
lazy summer breezes
pan-flute recollections

on this Iberian coast--
if you don't get it, still
just ask your BFF, for
they most surely will

everyone's got their reasons
even those that say they don't
everyone's got their seasons
whether they live it or won't

our ears are designed to hear
and lips were made to kiss
the batting of your lashes
turns stony hearts to bliss

for a time and half a time
this pen will cease its scribble
until reasons find its chime
then again resume its ripple*



_ _ __✒
●○
°

confines of mindscape
confides shadowed landscape
coffin lids fastened tight
custodial strife bite where

finer emotions reside
convivial memories collide

custom denial define
comport in social decline
coffers fill with loose change
combined prognoses engage*




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

blood-skies, day or night
heavens speaking
loud and bright
rainbows chasing
dreams take flight
yesterday's flailings
now out of sight

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.

What if I asked,
for you to remove that mask?
I want to see if you're true,
if underneath, it's really you.

And with each turn
of opportunity I have asked
of you to see me and
to quit requiring me to put

my mask back on...
realise, unmasked value:
this is me, and all of who I am;
hopefully, that is enough for you.*




_ _ __ ✏
●○
°

High on an olive grove
overlooking Aegean blue
rests a punctuated thought
a life caught, media caesura
a breath | paused | eternally

Hover above a whistle
memory's wind, it blows
sunburnt reminiscence
where the gods sequestered
Muses interment softly glow

Why the folly, in this--
sending a poet to war
Before charging the shore
struck a fatal kiss in Gaul
felled by a bullet of fate.

How does one farewell
a flame thus whisked away
or have the deities misruled
a more gallant death for him
on the shores of Gallipoli

Perhaps it is as it should be
your life as brief as poetry
on breeze kissed Skyros *****
under shady windows and
fragrance of sage and thyme

The reason for my articulation
is simple and utilitarian-
not to seek perfection,
but to seek ablution.

Perfection is reserved for those
with time to spend and money to burn.
My soul requires much more than these,
its ransom necessitates release:

Expiated expeditiously, in a flurry
of words that scathe my every thought.*




●○
°

Ribald footprints
of a silent, brooding zitar    
rendezvous with an ebbing tide:
recalcitrant thoughts wash away
along this sandy shoal.

Loving the unlovable
Has fashioned this tremulous
Unevenly layered perturbance

'

'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.







____✒
○●

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.

A rock by life's shore met tidal strife,
Thrown about each season's page

Safely in Poseidon's mighty hand
Turns into its pure form - sand.

Each grain hewn, a silicate image
of God's dreams now come to life.