nothing
quite as blue
but I haven't
a blinkin' clue

nothing
quite as glum
as depression
on an empty tum



●○
°

the early worm escapes the bird*

(and why not? the tortoise won
its race against a speedy hare)

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 hapless victim
to home invasion
for someone to play
Corday to one's Marat
unwitting and stabbed
at home in one's bath

Minuscule ants make a flightless
beeline along a sandbox perimeter. 
In their wake, a few grains of sand

Fall out of their confining place.  
One day, perhaps, they shall be free,
back to a convivial reunion by the sea.

One could traverse the length and depth and breadth of this and back and still have more to ponder on and discover!

But as the grains within that pit
outnumber the billions alive today;
only stars of night can reflect their gaze.*




●○
°

'

*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. *





_ _ __✒
●○
°

words whispered beneath willowy fronds, are autumn leaves carressing cheeks

thoughts rising from creamy pages of vellum bound tomes over a cuppa

feelings cascading between brushstrokes propped by elemental easel

images flicker on antiquated screens in the midnight hours pilgrimages

meaning; spectral apparitions that intermittently condescend our audience

there doesn't ever seem to be in them enough sense or consolation

empty bottle filled
sun-dapple prisms through glass
light as air to breathe*




.

judases a-plenty
pre-eminence of
bling and money
loyalty and love
are mere memes
and fancy quotes
while caring is
learned by rote
'like my selfies'
make egos bloat
each and every
backyard's busy,
shipyards prissy
along winding
river building
boats to float

We are wise not to meddle
with the words of yon Muse
allowing them to touch us
avowed by torchlit trysts 
each thought cradled in nettle
elegaic vine rows muse
such fearsome elegance behold!

'

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.




_ _ ✒
○●
°

scowling at a threatening storm cloud 
sombre as a brooding sky
your errant thoughts stumble
sore, leaving tear ducts, dry:

exhuming an abundant cascade
of strained expressions that ill-
reflect a stained and bedraggled soul
whose fond recollections oft fail to connect.*


●○
•

There is darkness in the light 
that filters from the sun of a day 
and light in the darkness that blankets our nights. 

There is vision, to the astute eye 
& to the keen mind's sensibility; 
thus making those aware of this, able

to hence proceed with prudent steps... 
Love, it has been said, can & does conquer all. 
All else in life is fluff & circumstance.

Herds
at full gallop
across
verdant rolling plains

Rushing
rivers slither
rampant
to open watered seas

Astride
distant stretches
uproar
of oceans and waves

Plateau
oases stretch on
speckled sable blanket:
stars keep wishes fed*




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

Would you know my gait
If merely my words parade,
While everything else lay hid?
Perhaps, should you have shared
In my thought and conversation.
Perhaps your soul recalls-
Once, some time ago, I know
We rode the waves of my verse.

years and seasons
both, people passing
moving on, outgrowing
all too-fleeting moments
of convergence, perfect
perhaps traversing, along
parallel paths, pilgrims
on a poetic journey, home*



●○
°

amusing exchanges;
remind me to tell
you about it later!

arching
back and back again
from explosive exertion
electric impulses spilling

over, pulse
passed insulation
scrambling
thought and senses

blanking
out and out again
excessive expulsion
emotive impact stilling

inner resolve
past motivation
dissipating;
thoroughly quenches*



●○
°

in stillness lay a day
under the trembling air
Zephyr's dulcet exhaling
plucks gently on a lyre

subtle melodies to ear
each note snatches droplets
of sweet nectar; of delight
covert by fronds dancing

in the belly of the night
all through wee measures
pleasant whispers portray
fond joys and merry play*



●○
°

these thoughts like refined gold,
after years of firing in a kiln,
and they're burning ever hotter
spilling onto sheets of paper
smouldering stains never fade
indelible impressions never old

Popcorn is flowing
buttery bright;
Write sabres sparking,
left and right. 
Many have fallen,
many have fled.
Some remain faithful
like voices in my head. 
A few now frozen
in Merlin's stead.
Tomorrow perhaps
we'll walk into the light; 
behind us a memory
of a dream in the night.

do not let your heart be dismayed
nor allow your countenance to fall
the shadows that surround are many
their stretching tendrils make you small

even a tiniest spark breaks darkness

and brightens up the darkest night*


●○
°

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




●○
°

it has been said that poetry
is the straight and narrow road
to a woman's heart of hearts;

        but alas, for me

              it has been the escape pod
from that woman who once,
but no longer, has regard for me*





_ _ __✒
●○
°

wonder at boiling blood
would they scald veins
all that rage would soon
bust vessels for naught
spewing bright fountains
of sanguinal disillusion*



●○
°

for despite obstacles
or stacked-up odds
we must forge a path,
relentlessly represent
and trek what's ahead,
what's yet to be explored

backwater
paddler
none ever
sadd'yer

never seein'
th'mainstream,
hope remains
only in dreams

together,
friends forever:
man and canoe,
downstream on cue



●○
•

your formula worked
and people turned
their ears and listened

what if eternity valued
more that wasn't worth
much at all, here on earth

what if there in the after
life;  what's uncool rocked
and what's cool is blocked

then maybe we'd drop
the show and striving
just to be real, not conniving

what are the chances, now
what are thr possibilities
of unveiling life's intricacies?*




●○
°

it has been said that poetry 
is the straight and narrow road
to a girl's heart of hearts;
for me, alas, it has been an escape pod
from that girl that once 
but no longer has regard for me
so here, strewn among broken branches
severed petals and crushed buds
are what remains of love's labour lost
it has also been said that it's better
to love and lost than to have never
loved at all
perhaps they never felt the pain
or cried bitter tears that freely fall

imagine your surprise
as you irrevocably realise
everything can be bought
and everyone has a price

what exquisite shock ensues
when you take off $ signs
unveil powers of exchange
and begin to live accordingly*




●○
•

a tortured artist
struck by barbs--
pain of restrictions

or inopportune expression

a suffering poet, wracked
burning, molten words
boiling from deep within

seek release by any means;

every manner it seems,
insufficient and incomplete:
lifelong quest continues on*


●○
•

stood tall with chest
puffed out, so proud
to be this big boy, now
your dependable little man

'you're man of the house, now
so take care of mum and the kids'
all seven years of life straining
to comprehend what's going on

but all that was forthcoming
was a handshake,
a clap on the back,
fading footsteps,
and two swinging
khaki duffel bags*



●○
°

if you feel all alone,
then we're all alone, together...*


●○
°

two joined, separated a brother, now one 
and his brother's friend, a friend that loved 
filled that emptiness 
that hearth and home could not mend 
one fateful day 
their ways crossed to wayward wend
what tears run streaks 
on your redded-cheeks 
why the furtive pulse in your eyes, 
it shows so plain a plan
to bring him back 
though a means to do 
so sorely lack 
keep alive that sacred part 
you filled his heart and thus 
wherever he may be 
there shall you also remain 
his friend, no brother nor blood 
no rain nor wind would understand

We never burn bridges
though we never need to
cross over that particular one

again - hence

we build new ones, upstream,
and closer, so much closer
to the heart of our dream*


●○
°

an end blended
and send word
with meaning bended

our escape now
a band of sand
on an island bound

tomorrow's bond
lifts these eyes
ever upward*




○●
°

from scared to scarred
stepping out into light
crossing over to over
there without looking
back again to second
thoughts is freeing of
both thought and that
paralysing fear from
some deep down spot
bruised again & again
it's a fair exchange to
be wounded, wound
up, trading on briskly
before markets crash-
nothing's ever fair or
much less given free

listen to the one who
has heard the voice of wheat
in ripening cornfields

there must be light still
at willow creek, though
I'm a million miles away

there's a reason for everything 
though ours is still out there
what remains is your empty chair

this season of grief has lingered 
seven years tarried too soon
an abysmal moment here; marooned*




●○
•

Squatting on promise -
verdant crest of Mount Parnassus,
on the cusp of a new revelation;

a late-coming realisation:

now at Inspiration's doorstep,
reality is an unexplored frontier.
Here I stand, unwelcome again.*




●○
°

why are you so easy
to walk passed
but then so difficult
to forget?

a cattle brand
sears waking memory
scathe dreams of night
what remains of you

are rumpled bed-
clothes at sun up
and crumpled sheets 
on a litter-strewn desk*




●○
°

nothing held sacred;
make our heads churn,
no one deemed holy
save our only concern

value of waning life
drowned by strife's urn
no elegance of phrase;
wordless grace return*





●○
°

what I know
I breathe, I speak
no dissuading
no breath-holding
no otherwise

persuade

there upon
a ******* heap
a bloom emerges
its fragrance
perfumes life's stench



○●
°

raise again this chalice,
fearsome and seductive;
that brims with venom
and sparkles with promise

that in the twilight beckons...

Raise this goblet
to once satin lips
now runnelled with
bypassed dreams,

you hope, but hope in vain...

Gulp down your fill,
wait for forgetfulness still;
let the dregs of this cup
caress your wearied mind,

'til dawn tops it up again.*




●○
°

game over; roll over
turn your heads around
smell the 4-leaf clover
1 day truth shall abound
with angel trumpet sound
an infant's primal cry
and all tears wiped dry

'love?' you say,
have a canapé
vulnerability
opens up our
jugular, to so

much hurt, to pain
be crushed and dashed
and maimed
destroyed with
utter disdain

we are contrarily
brought up
to be strong
independent
no one's fool

always look out
for number one
be proud, stand tall
headstrong, but
in pride, we fall

in that simple way
on any given day--
we are flawed lovers;
'love,' you say? here's
another canapé*




●○
°