Out of my way,
I'm coming through,
Don't get to close,
I've got killer teeth for you,
I'll slice the water,
I'll smash your skull,
And eat you up,
I'll eat you whole.

A giant of the ocean,
But gentle as can be,
I'm the one they talk about,
The one they rarely see.

I swim and eat,
Eat and swim all day,
I blow out all the water,
And avoid the light of day.

How many boats come out to sea,
To catch a glimpse of me,
I hear the engines and the noise,
I hide beneath the ocean bed with such rapid urgency.

How relaxing to sit aboard a small row boat,
Amidst the wide blue ocean,
When suddenly from the salty depths,
There is a stiring potion,
Tiny rings of air are danced up to the surface,
And suddenly a fin appears,
That slender body and delicate stroke,
The kindest sight my eyes have encountered for years.

The survivor,
Outlived the dinosaurs,
Pathetic creatures running from the sun,
We stayed safe in our wetland,
Feeling pretty clever, pretty grand.

We terrify,
Our teeth are sharp,
But we swim as smooth and silent as a harp,
I'm smiling,
Smiling at you.

Fixed and focused,
His steely glare is pinned on me,
I shake and stutter,
I stare away from him,
He pulls me like a magnet,
Back to his beam-like-eye,
He swoops,
He soars,
He dances with the tender clouds,
I'm fearful yet stand in awe.

I'm white and pure,
i'm gorgeous,
I'm in love with my reflection,
I'll never part from it,
You all look at me and smile,
I'm beautiful, elegant and strong,
I'm the one you've heard about,
The truly English Swan.

I’m a falcon,
Now you’re scared,
I’m the one watching from right up there,
I watch and I float,
I wait for the time,
The moment to break and swoop in and bite.

A lizard is nice but spiders I love,
But they’re harder to see from ten metres above,
I prefer open country to cities and towns,
But some buildings make good nests away from the crowds,
I’m always noticed by human passers-by,
“Look at him go”, they say. “Ah!”, they cry.

Hummingbird:
Small,
Fast,
Beating wings,
Hovers,
Dashes,
Darts,
Pretty,
Clever,
True,
Cuts,
Darts,
­Dashes,
Hovers,
Beating wings,
Fast,
Small:
Hummingbird.

Like a flame his plume is wild,
Yet perfectly formed,
A regal blue and crown of gold,
A wondrous cavern of treasure in every eye-shaped fold,
The hint of black, the splash of purple, the green that’s taken hold,
A delicate vision,
It’s easy to see he’s breathtakingly bold.

“Vermin!!!”
“Rat of the sky!!!”
“Flea-ridden disease carrier!!!!”

I hear there vicious taunts,
I’m not pretty enough to flaunt my plume,
But I’m smart,
I am central to London; we are the works of art,
They try to move us on,
For some time now we’ve been gone,
But don’t forget that out of sight,
We pigeons take our magic flight.

“Vermin!!!”
“Rat of the sky!!!”
“Flea-ridden disease carrier!!!”

I watched from the mountain top,
My hair was moved by the breeze and my heart stopped,
I turned to see an Eagle taking flight,
Golden and vigorous as if bathed in sunlight,
Two metres of softest feather covered its precious wings,
I listened to its haunting call that in my ear did ring,
It glided like a kite but with sublime elegance,
It knew it was beautiful – it had that arrogance,
It strutted in the air like a man on a high,
That night I dreamt I was up there learning how to fly.

A dead corpse of a zebra,
The lions move away,
They feast seventh in line like Libra,
Circling and swooping and keeping a watchful eye.

Round and round,
Down and down.

Their wings slicing through the air,
Eyes focused on the meal,
They rip and tear until none is there,
Blood falling from their beaks as their black feathers quake.

Out across the open lakes I stare,
Transfixed by the colour,
Grace and dignity; relaxed with no cares,
Pink plumes could get no fuller.

A swan sparkling with more class,
The brightness against the barren African plain,
The power of the landscape is hard to pass,
But the ocean of pink alights the darkest of grain.

Crack the ice,
I want to fish,
I want to swim in the cold waters,
Watch me swim with my friends,
Side by side we toddle to the ledge,
Shining white with the snow,
And tarnishing the landscape with black,
We tarnish purity,
Yet remain pure and free,
A lesson to learn,
Of black together with white,
A sensational diversity.

I am named wrong,
They don’t care,
Those humans who decide everything,
Do I look like a Stag with Antlers?
NO…my mandibles are strong and proud,
I’m a grand beetle,
Royal and fearsome (in appearance),
But don’t worry I won’t hurt you.

I’m not a Cricket or a Locus,
We don’t even look the same,
My antennae are far shorter,
And my wings are pointless,
I jump…no…hop,
I hop from place to place,
I make a noise much sweeter,
And drive them all insane.

All the birds they want me,
And the Adders too,
But I’m much smarter than those fools,
They don’t get near me,
I’m not afraid for my life,
Though I don’t live long,
I know that I’m a leaper,
And I’d better hop along.

I live by the water,
This lake is my home,
My nymph is aquatic,
It doesn’t like to roam,
My legs are weak and fragile,
Walking I can’t do,
But my wings are powerful,
They carry me across the blue,
High in the trees I glide,
My length cuts through the air,
I speed above the picnickers,
They don’t know I’m there,
I’m a Yellow-winged Darter,
Sympetrum flaveolum to my friends,
Watch me as I whizz on by,
Down the river-bend.

A box on our sideboard,
Full of tiny plants,
Several thousand twigs,
And a chameleon of bugs,
The stick insect is hiding,
Shy of the leering glare,
But when you look so closely,
You’ll see he has a friend.

We’re underground,
Millions of us beneath your every step,
Eating the mud and grime,
Keep the ground fertilised through time,
We fear the gushing waters that fall from way above,
They pour into our tunnels and make rivers of our homes,
Up we come to the surface and inhale the fresh, clean air,
And watch out for the sparrows lurking somewhere out there.

Why are they scared of me?
I’m not a Tarantula,
I’m not a Black Widow,
I’m an ordinary spider,
Spinning my web of silk,
Making a home for myself on your front porch,
Stretching my web from beam to rose petal,
Each day I have to rebuild,
You brush it away.

An outcast,
A creature we despise,
It looks so small and tiny,
And has gimlet eyes,
It stalks the drains and kitchens,
And scavenges in the night,
And climbs upon our plates of food,
Such an unwelcome sight.

I look the same as other flies but my name is my flaw,
Blue Bottles are a pest but not perceived as much more,
The common House Fly is named with human charm,
I’m called Mosquito and mean you no harm,
Most of us eat nectar and us males eat nothing more,
It’s the ladies of certain sects who take the blood from your pores,
So please don’t be scared of me as you lay dishabille in the sun,
I’m not going to bite you; I am the nice one.

Summer has arrived and I’m glistening,
Bathing in the radiant rays,
The gentle things I hear when I’m listening,
Enjoying the special, bright blue days,
The spots on my back look polished and shiny,
Like the car parked on your drive,
And my red-winged case to you looks tiny,
I’m in a dream and content to be alive.

Delicate,
Wings like patterned paper,
Reds, oranges and gold,
Yellows and greens in shades so bold,
Flicker like a fine flame,
Softly land upon my hand,
I want to feel you breathe,
Hear your thoughts of freedom,
Flutter by dear butterfly,
Flutter by.

Honey-making precious creature,
Gliding with the wind,
The sun shining against your radiant yellow,
Your black stripes warning of your sting,
Hear the gentle buzz of your melody,
Flower to flower,
Petal to rest upon,
And skies to dream upon the breeze,
Light is fading – time for home,
To the hive – to the queen of your heart.

Stronger than my size assumes,
Small but powerful,
I climb,
I crawl,
I march in my regiment,
Never out of step.

Protected and protecting,
On parade,
See humans hunting us down,
We survive and outnumber,
They think they’re so tough,
I’ll thrive on my own terms,
Whatever the ground or soil.

I know we won't replace,
The vacant hole you once embraced,
Our hearts were full and solid gold,
Now there’s sadness and bitter cold,
You gave us love, you gave us time,
Beside us through every fall and climb,
Words can never explain the tears,
We cry now for the wasted years…

…years…

…years…

The many times we had laughed,
The emptiness can’t hope to halve,
And yet I can’t help but reflect upon,
The days and weeks and times; long gone,
But in my memory, that secret place,
Is the joy and magic I can trace,
Those times that only I can share,
With you, myself – a connection so rare…

…rare…

…rare…

Though now your soul is far away,
We’ll have thoughts of you each passing day,
Of superman at Christmas and Guinness for a saint,
The scolding of Tim Henman, that passionate complaint,
The stories of Las Vegas, and of the times we shared in France,
Will light up all our broken hearts and the mind can have its dance,
You were a special lady, we don’t want to release,
But I know that you are with us and your body is at peace…

…peace…

…peace…

(This poem was written in memory of my Nan, An Cronin.  R.I.P.)

I overcome,
I undergo,
I suffer the pain,
That no one should know,
I struggle,
I glide,
I always believe,
And I need to hide,
I welcome,
I fear,
An altering circus of emotions,
And all in a year.

Been flying but need to come down,
Hand me the rope,
Hand me the needle,
Chase the dragon and mainline,
I’m doing fine.

Colours,
Such colours,
Overwhelming red mist of bliss,
A green calm,
And people,
So many people,
Knives and guns,
After me,
I need to be free…

…

…

…jump.

It happened so fast,
A secret revealed,
A heart is shattered,
A world is changed,
A life is altered,
Loose ends and angered ropes,
The death of a thief,
Who stole to save his soul,
And all in a week.

Hours, days and weeks,
Maybe even years,
Of writing down my joy and pain,
My ecstasy and tears,
Far too long have I grown so distanced,
An outsider looking for the next phrase,
Wanting to be accepted,
But denied the magic of praise.

Still I sit and write,
Words that I concoct,
Things that I never dare to share,
That, in my heart, stay locked,
Those utterances and emotions,
They’re never heard even when I pray,
Yet still I take this journey,
Roads of writing my life away.

Songs, lyrics, poetry,
Prose, sonnets and plays,
Just watch me try,
Endeavour to write my life away.

An incredible feeling of pride,
A desperate sense of denial,
The difference?
An aching heart and a burning soul,
An empty shell, a vacant hole.

An incredible feeling of strength,
A desperate struggle to weakness,
The difference?
An aching mind and a flaming core,
An empty well, blood on the floor.

Cigarettes and *******,
Sliding through my body,
I ache in pain and pleasure,
My heart is beating fast,
My mind is moving slow,
Drunk on Jack Daniels,
And secretly wanting to go.

Over and out and overboard,
I'm tried of the need to come alive,
Tired of losing four times out of five,
Reflection is shattered,
Soul is battered,
Cigarettes and *******,
Hate them, hurt me, want them.

Feelings,
Emotions,
Laughing in a solitary silence,
The bombs; such sounds,
Pain and hurt,
A body uncovered,
A body revealed,
A body discovered,
Another man killed,
A disguise,
A facade,
A dance of joy,
This bear he marches,
This bear,
No more.

(This poem is dedicated to the brave men and women who battled and served for their country in 1914 - 1918. May we never forget!)

...And we went,
Beyond and over,
March to the fall,
No longer able,
Collapsed,
Knees crumbling beneath,
Gone away,
Can you see us?
Remember us,
...And we went.


(This is poem is dedicated to all the brave men and women who fought and did their part for our world in WW1 1914 - 1918.)

Punish my heart,
It aches to feel that which it fears,
The destiny of anguish,
The demise of sanity encountered through the years,
The years of struggle, strife and sadness,
The bliss of discovering the safety of madness.

Concrete rooms, concrete sky,
The layers they place upon my grave,
No coffin - just angry mud,
Of insects and bugs waiting to feast,
Upon the remains of flesh from the East,
Cold and my form deformed.

No heaven above have i travelled to,
No hell below has consumed me,
No limbo to repent and deny,
Just silent bitterness; jury for the death i daily die,
The tears i bury in a casket of air,
Frozen to the altar; i feel nothing is there.

Punish my heart,
It bleeds the red and hot of love,
Sheds the red and hot of hate,
Leaving an empty shell that yearns for the sting of salt,
The salt of seaside, sun and sadness,
The fear of discovering the safety of madness.

Thank goodness for rain,
It disguises the tears that crawl down my face,
The redness in my eyes,
Made from the bitter cold,
The truth about my sadness,
Hides beneath the storm cloud of gold,
I am a cunning chameleon,
Showing no signs of exposure,
Safe in my bubble of drizzle.

She kissed my hand,
And lay her lips against mine,
My spine shivered,
And her eyes sang divine,
She drove me to happiness,
A floating feeling of glee,
A devastating passion,
A newfound joy from within the heart of me.

Printers’ ink upon a page,
A story written to bring me down,
A whisper round the gallery of noise,
Of the devastation,
The ruin of girls and boys.

Against the press I write,
To stand like a tyrant,
With a cooler mind and heart,
A calm descends and apologisers appear,
I smile with satisfaction.

I’m on display,
Visitors stare blankly at me,
Blown away by the size of my enclosure,
Stretching world wide,
The enclosure is felt inside.

Surrounded by reasons I should stay,
I try to follow you,
I still burn for you,
Would turn for you,
Would break, bend and banish for you,
But steel bars hold me captive,
And no matter how much I cry,
How many times I crack and snap,
The rods of bitter steel stand up,
Proud against my raging.

“This prison”, said the stars,
“Is a cloak of darkness against which we sparkle,
We are the spectacle,
The show of night,
Our ringmaster is the moon,
We are eclipsed by his power.”

My heart is my prison,
I follow its course,
I let it lead,
I let it bring me to a ******,
I let it teach me how to bleed,
My heart is my prison,
My prison holds me still.

This prison of mine has grown,
It started as fear,
Building blocks of agony and pain,
Slowly bricking me in,
One layer of cement a day,
A new barricade each and every year.

This prison of mine is cold,
Winter settled in,
Summer sun never travels inside,
Sharp and spirited ice,
Fencing off the feelings I loathe,
All the emotions that destroy and sin.

A photograph of her,
And a lonely sesame seed,
A pocket watch – engraved,
The inscription reads,
“My darling, with this treasure,
You’ll feel the time tick slowly by,
By with this pocket-watch of gold,
You know I’m listening to your sighs”.

Time itself is endless,
And time itself can’t start,
It’s an ever-existing cycle,
From which this planet dare not part.

Love itself is fearless,
And love itself can’t shy,
It’s an ever-prominent vision,
That restrains a heart from its cries.

Time itself is endless,
And endless explains time,
It’s an ever-visible power,
A true pattern of perfect rhyme.

Holding you feels so right,
A perfect harmony,
The tune of wrong and right,
A balanced karma,
An equilibrium unheard of,
And all it took was time.

Sixty seconds,
A framework,
A skeleton of time,
Sixty seconds,
A blueprint,
A skeleton of time,
Sixty seconds,
A minute,
A skeleton of time.