by day their light is hidden
by night they dance about
brilliant, constellated move-
ment; choreographed magic
within a holding firmament,
wider than a galaxy unfurling
small as a palm-held device

warmth envelops
dissolving the
bustle and noise
liquid stillness
offers but a momentary
tranquil once upon a time
it is so easy to 
drift off and forget

here the watery balm
soothes celiac rashes
a moment's reprieve
that shuts out reality
provides sombre retreat
cares float away
until unwanted thoughts
stray with blistered report

it is quite possible
through bolted locks 
to lay victim
to home invasion
for someone to play
Corday to one's Marat
a hapless victim stabbed
at home in one's bath*




_ _ __ ✒
○●
°

whole, on widescreen
tumblring at band speed
etched in mindscape

immortalised secret
longing fingertips
touchscreen caresses
offering online trysts

decrepit offline reality
disjointedness tides
monitor-eyed numbness*



●○
°

Back in the day it was horrible
to make a public spectacle of oneself.

But these days we've outdone ourselves -
and though we march to our own drums

more than ever before -
we do so "in your face,'

snapchatting, webcamming, wickrdly off:
and that can be a never ending disgrace!

no sun to be found
all that's been familiar
now mixed around
find it quite peculiar
reinventing of us
matters we don't even discuss

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

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




●○
°

you can hear it, those claps of thunder
though you've chosen not to take cover
here we are and here you are, momentarily
tomorrow this sunburnt land whistles merrily
so stay awhile and take it all in;
appreciate our kookaburras grin

'

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.)

__✒
○●
°

'

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.




_ _ __ ✒
○●
°
'

sitting 'round a ***** living room
getting acquainted with once and
future strangers, pretending life
will thrive from the loam of potted
imaginings of who we hope them
to be, both inside and out; much
like fruit smells and feels when
they are ripe for the picking - oft
served thereafter on a table wide
with anticipation and mirth, down
to the last napkin ring & teaspoon

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*



_ _ __✒
●○
°

you wrapped up all seasons in one
and fashioned so much more;
you brought smiles & tears & shudders,
caused hardest rock to melt
like snow on budding sunrise morns:
never feigning affection nor admitting defeat;
no longer wielding, finally yielding
a refrain that tomorrow shan't repeat
perhaps then, only in reminiscent
sighing balladeers shall ink and sing
of moments you so easily forgot

We pretend to apprehend
Appended prosthetic desire
When in truth we don't
Deign to even comprehend
What persuasion may conspire
Arrested reasonings contend
So whatever the difference may be
You are the subtrahend to my minuend

' 

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.




_ __ ✒
●○
°

Back in the day it was horrible 
to make a public spectacle of oneself. 

But these days we've outdone ourselves - 
and though we march to our own drums

more than ever before - 
it's moment by moment,

up close and overly personal:
we do so "in your face,' 

snapchatting, webcamming, wickrdly off--
and that can be a never ending disgrace!*




●○
°

even after season upon season
of changing jobs and habitations
in different states and even nations

we can look at objects that trigger
a sense of connective familiarity;
but on any other given day they're

just stuff, things that fill our lives;
for instance that bottle of clairol
or bar of dove, that tube of colgate

exact same products at granny's house;
shapes, smells, and sounds surround us,
a nest, perfectly built: dry, warm & sturdy*




●○
•

'

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?





_ _ ✒
○●
°

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 so good about Friday?
He turned my world
right side up
when I found myself
displaced, continents away.
He's my Man, Friday--
He stirs the waters up
and changes them quick
to fruit of the vine
He spits on dirt
and they see, the blind
walks past them
and tormentors flee.
What's so good on Friday?
The end of yet another
back breaking week.
Yet He broke His back
and purchased Eternity.
By His stripes I'm healed
His blood has made me free
it's the day of liberty --
today is Freedom Friday!
Who cares about Taco Tuesday
or nostalgic Throwback Thursday
what's with Man Crush Monday!
But everyone yells TGIF!
Thank God, it's Friday!
still half of us disbelieves Him anyway.
We're marooned on an island
condemned and castaway;
but out of a tree and a rock
and a crowing denial three;
walks this man, Friday
and He's good enough for me.
Yes, there's still one set of
footprints on my stormy shores
And yes, He still carries me.
What's so good about Friday?
On Good Friday I took up my Cross
And He came and followed-rescued me.

Here, my fins have shown,
My gills have sprouted lungs.
I've muddled through

Each and every circumstance.

So now you see;
I am one such fish
that climbed a tree.

' 


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






___✒
○●
°

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

brow arched to
heavenly lights,
spirit soars to
distant heights,
mud ***** flip

upturned lids
deflects flash
of radar blip;
chin up, chin in
tuck & roll away

that dented tin
game of thrown
--out shoulders
brings this query:
do you even lift?*



●○
°

gnarley fingers 
veil his face, 
skin thin and crusted 
at certain spots: 
splotched parchment 
of years in the sun 

moistness 
cascades 
from his forehead to 
his chin 
then meets gravity; 
raindrops 

through his soil-grimed 
singlet, jeans and boots; 
hours of toil 
simmer away 
in rivulets 
of forgetfulness.

Time arrives at the station
and hops off that train;
through clearing misty tendrils
one can but notice
its bright travelling cape.
( Who wears these anymore? )

Those caught in Time's gaze
are wrapped in a moment supreme,
where eternal lapses into present,
brilliantly, ever out of sequence; 
whose master conjures curiosities,
making this drudgery worthwhile.*





●○
°

it has finally arrived
the belly of night
no longer offers
dark mysteries
or mortal dread

and these million
scurrying thoughts
scour through my mind
with a deafening march
that leaves me blind*




●○
°

zealous young xenophiles
wail violent utterances
tasked surreptious rail qualms
permit ornaments
nibbling mice livid
kilo joule increments
harped geese fly
every delicate caress bourne aloft

'


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.




____✒
○●
°
'

Dance, laugh, flirt, half a flirt,
not necessarily in that order --
lights flicker - bokeh raindrops.
Initially, my feet tap in time;

but as the chorus returns,
by its volition, my body moves;
the bass line sends my chest
thumping to a primal beat.

All through this commotion
my hope recedes... but then,
As if by magic, perfect time,
your eyes looked into mine...

where bilious pigeons roost
coo and cackle with abandon

whose obstinate droppings steam

its stench invigorates lagging soul
here and ever after, songs remember*



●○
°

On powd'ry grains of sand
At genial island's narrow end,
Morning gently breaks:

I cast stones at crested waves;
Cheeks still moist in briny breeze.

Poetry is...
companionable eloquence
faithful throughout eras
gone and yet to come.

It's benefits outweigh whatever
real or imagined opinion,
critique or complaint.

Our prattle shan't hinder
the blossoming of flowers
in their rightful season.

By whatever standard and
measurement, Poetry is...

pursed lips

      spin cycle out of sync:

mud stained vignette

      burbling brooks whisper*


●○
°




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

'

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




____✒
○●
°

The world, indeed, is too much with us...
There is a rumbling in the distance
and he turns around to see shadows;
stunning and seductive in form,
unrelenting in its melodies.
Belatedly it dawned on him,
his imagination was hijacked with permission.
And still they rumble, ever closer; on and on.

'

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.




_ __ ✒
●○
°

shape shifting furniture
carouses with crisping
wallpaper, peeling away
as it  turns a shade of jade

its deafening roar of tussle
echoes in this hollowing
out of a cranial chamber

while across misty chasm
a light beams steadily, from
that gap under your door

surely disintegrating, the
now useless horse blinkers
that kept this ageing eye
on a once consuming goal*




●○
•

in our giving of thanks
we find intrinsic value
much more than places
in both directions of
that decimal point ●

a sequined moment
etched in time's fickle
precipice, caught only
with intention and at

times a whole lot of

personal courage and
swallowing of pride;
we've really nothing
to hide from each other

● except maybe the odd
awkward embarrassment
that harasses the mind
while the carving knife
lifts and catches light○*



●○
°

'

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






____✒
○●
°

'

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




____✒
○●'

bending upon a bank
of this winsome river
a weepy willow
sighed:
'Oh for the day
that I, my tears
again may find...'


Like a feuilleton
transported on wings of jubilant breath,
so go each wandering thought of our souls,
on carpets that fly the skies of imaginings.





.

Author Notes

A blend of western and oriental forms in a fusion of free form. I hope you enjoy this entry.

°

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.

 

_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

Disused and abandoned here
a connection no longer clear
of one once to heart held dear.

Water freely runs through, clear
alongside, & around mounting pier
now that the bridge is broken, peer.

Hence across both banks, tarry
an inking of what its currents carry
post traumatic sighs always vary.