Of late you've taken
to staring past 
fork-strewn dinner plates; 

tines pinging like tuning forks, 
precise and crystalline: 

from scratches on writing pads, 
to clacking on fading keyboard tiles, 
to taps on smudged touch screens -- 

thoughts and feelings exiled, martyred 
for existence beyond skull and ribs. 

Of late your chin
bobs involuntarily
to strains of melodies; 

countering the blare of radio beats, and
no one sees this march to your own drums.

Curiosity killed no cat, but martyrs, by
betrayal, our most private thoughts
and feelings are divulged.*



_ _ _ ✏
●○
°

turn your gaze to power
of life and death:
they lie dormant,
seeded potentialities;

a flowers' expectantcy
in each quiescent tongue
and those who love either
will surely sup of their fruit*




●○
•

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*




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

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





____✒
■▪

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.

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

while the night
fraternises with
forbidden horizons

secrets of the universe
tv-snow, static blizzard
teasing but never seen*




●○
•

'

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.)

__✒
○●
°

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...

where bilious pigeons roost
coo and cackle with abandon

whose obstinate droppings steam

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



●○
°

whenever you feel all alone,
remember this simple truth:
we're really all alone, together*...


●○
°

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__✒








○●•°

There are far more people
that struggle in life, like me

than there are successful,
made and together, like you:

so please, uninvite me, yet again,
but let me be;
         without that dangling carrot,*    I   A M    F R E E .



○●
•

in spite of what surrounds us
whatever circumstances are
we are learning to find peace
within ourselves
regardless of what's

going on around us,
learning to self-soothe
kind of thing and find
we all are coming through
to the other side, strong

persons we've missed;
our friendships through
a new season approaching
and a sense begins to form
that peace rising up from

inside the very core of you!
and it's a happy moment
this first day of autumn
here, although summer
is quite happily overstaying

so colours are changing
and the breeze is blowing
face the horizon, your hair
a banner waving, highlights
in sun beams, catch and shine

scowling as a threatening storm cloud
somber as a brooding sky
my errant thoughts stumble
and leaving my tear ducts dry:
exhuming an abundant cascade
of strained expressions that reflect
a stained and bedraggled soul
whose fond recollections failed to connect.

Friends that are dear to me
I hope I shall ever see
Our wings soar ever free
Let the four winds so decree!

so little is reliant on
a brewing *** of morning
or wafting wisps of grain

whose warmth presses lips,
pulses patter 'neath veins
and butter dribbles freely

as a grapefruit réveille
parades playfully above
an eye-rubbing horizon

tousling tree-top buds,
changing hues in the wind
while dreams of night evaporate*



●○
°

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*




●○
•

staring down these last few
scoops of laundry powder
and pouring out from these
last few caps of softener
looking back a couple of
months when it was tough
deciding to unseal these
products in case word
came from that latest job
prospect now seems suspect
-- guess that new box of
detergent will be opened
next wash and a trip to
obtain fabric conditioner
is all there is left of this
agenda of personal improv!

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.






____✒

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.

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.

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!

when sadness listens
fear and anger dissipate
--joy dances once more*


●○
°

'

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. 





__✒
○●
°

Some things weigh more than verse, it’s true,
Like a baby’s cry or a dog’s need to chew.
A kettle’s loud whistle, talk shows that fight,
TikTok trends fading into the night.

Our days are a mix of both bright and the bland,
With meals that we savour and dawn’s gentle hand.
Viral clips flicker, then quickly they fade,
Yet in simple moments, our memories are made.

Through ups and through downs, life’s a wild ride,
With heartbeats and laughter right by our side.
In acts that are simple, our stories unfold,
With love in our lives, the best tales are told.

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.

unsleep now; keep still
unwakened dreams

a sun shall set
a moon will rise
a star falls, shooting
kissing dirt, no small
earthbound consolation

even in shadows, evening
dancers pave paths into dark
bear upon themselves, yearnings  

bare feet, tip-toe-ing into
slivers of this moonlit night

angels dare not wander off
deft fingers drift among
slumbering fragrant blooms

here, where fireflies
have up and flown
please, please, promise
not to rouse the dream*




●○
°

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

nothing
quite as glum
as depression
on an empty tum



●○
°

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*




●○
°

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?*



●○
°

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.

Is it not a foe who taunts —
that in itself could be borne
Is it not an enemy's tirades—
from them one could hide
Instead, an arrogant intimacy—
life's equal, companion & friend.

What close companionship
now scattered in the chill
of uncaring autumn winds
from familiar paths once  
walked together in gardens
of fond affection and glee.*


●○
°