like a darted journey
the spokes of despair,
sharpend by hazel spears
betray an inordinance of time.
Lost amongst the amber stones
light shafTing twilights furl
we succumb beseaching

The  longing  to  compete  up a  one way street,
foolhardy if the  confidence is lost
But  inherent  is  this wish
to  be  better than  thou.
My  sageful  advice may  fall on  cloth  ears
having  run its course,
being an ensemble  of  sorts.
The  mighty  brevity  will surely  decline
with  the  passing  of  time
perhaps  long  after­ these ideals

Potpourri on the concrete carpet
how can this be held as beguiling?.
Even the willows sigh by the
increasing turbulence of the wind.
Legends so few of them,
stagnating without a hand to lift
their encapsulation.
Dreamscapes  bygone
as sure as  grief rotted down,
the nightingale  stranded,
erstwhile finally.

i sing only for a purpose
but cannot even carry a tune
there's been this dense misunderstanding.
Rawlings never gvies  the credit,
so its the same old  waning
with familiar  yelping dog
sounding off in the pavallion,
where hesitation seems subservient
and the planning out of kilter .

Four o clock where angels and demons
meet head on,
and strangely agree on  the subject.
Callous hands and sunken cheekbones
a man of  nebulous means,
and whilst you sear in your troubled sleep
your sins have been recorded.,
By dawn the jury turns their wings,
to allow nocturnal recoil
to hasten the despatch.

The  spotlight  is  on the  broken  coastline
porous - like  archers  spilling arrows
into  the vanquished hinterland.
In the ancient West  Mercia
wooden bridges collapse
uproar, as the King's regiments
long disbanded , ghosts
into fading memory.
Our  defenders, our  loyal subjects
enmeshed into the  wider  fear
our  citadels breached,
and where  is  the  valour
the self reliance of  our  septic isle?

She was an exceptional light commedienne,
her lungs bursting with joy
indeed with finnese
she additionally dive acrobatically
into enraptured  hands.
But her better stage half urged
period dramas
her thick southern drawl deemed unsuitable
and if it be said
over reaching,
she find no true instrument,
other than to burn in her Autumn days
filed under regret.