I saw a shadow, short at first,
And growing like an endless thirst
It snaked along across the ground,
It stirred no earth nor made no sound

And looking up towards the sun,
Observer of our world's dismay,
I saw an obelisk begun
To flee its orbit of decay

It raced on down like sleet and ice,
A keen and freshly sharpened knife,
It slashed the wind and roared aloud
As through the air it drove and ploughed

And fixed its glare upon one spot,
A small and meagre barren plot,
Where formed a shadow, small at first,
But growing like an endless thirst

Until the two became as one,
Where children played upon the floor,
And dust arose to block the sun,
Those children gone forever more

Marie knew'st best the wont of blood and gold --
Heedless be not or headless be thy trim;
How thin a strand to bind the downtrod bold
Is law's decree?  It quivers at their whim,
Like dusted snow that grey's the mountain's locks,
Each flake unseen, a pauper, cold and damp,
Wherein the voice of scorn, the hand that mocks,
May shove these brothers down steep mountain ramp
And each to each must cling and garner speed
As sisters, mothers, fathers, join the throng,
Their flags unfurled, their voices raised in song,
Onwards unto one prophecy, one deed --
    Marie knew'st best the wont of blood and gold;
    The time is nigh her tale shall be re-told.

Distangle fangle from the yore
To ken the roots of yon afore
And see whereof they tread

A roguish minstrel, cowlish clad,
With spritish garb, a-prancin’ mad,
Bridged east the river bed

He came a prancin’ oh did he,
As like the wind with a fiddle-dee-dee,
As like as like a clown

He waltzed and hopped and twirled about
Whilst passing through the old redoubt
Unto the midst of town

Children flocked to hark his air
Resounding from the market square
Pervading every nook

They waltzed and hopped and twirled about
From all around the old redoubt
To chance a better look

He shimmied left, he darted right,
And marveled at the wondrous sight
As wee ones danced along

He raised his pipe, began to play,
And all about began to sway
Enchanted by his song

“Come hey, come hence, come fiddle-dee-dee!”
His call was as the roiling sea
That pilfers from the dunes

Now with his ducklings all-in-tow,
He swift bridged west the river’s flow
Beguiling with his tunes

Applied the minstrel to his pipe
And nary tot nor guttersnipe
Were wont to be unled

The wee ones went unto his tune
That vexed the waning heart of June
And to the mountain fed

And all of them are dead

Oh sleeping beauty, whence thine prince
To kiss thee from thy sodden dreams?
One hundred years and two score since
Thy last farewell -- Who now redeems
This world awash for loss of thee?
Who now shall stand thine shining knight
To guard thee for eternity
And bring thee safe to heaven's height?

Oh sleep well beauty, flaxen maid,
With lavender laced in thine hair,
No earthly sin to be repaid,
Awash with frailty, love and prayer --
Oh sleep well beauty, pure and chaste,
Undying maiden, casket lass,
And watch the world pass by in haste
As thou do rest beneath thy glass.

I look for truth amongst the dust
And debris of an erstwhile time,
When life had hope, as all life must
Before it meets an end in crime;
A seed was sown, a scene was set,
And time was apt to soon forget

The rain that fell to cleanse the blood,
Perchance from angels weepy-eyed,
Caressed the concrete and the mud,
Destructive as a rising tide;
What once lay here now rests but there,
Some things that were now are nowhere

And to this chaos, casts my eye,
To see the dust and debris strewn;
I look to where the bodies lie
Like shadows cast beneath the moon;
What did the hour of time perceive?
Would that I could traverse its weave

And follow thence unto a strand
That holds within the truth I seek,
And with enlightenment in hand
Then of that truth I'd gladly speak,
But I am mute, for all I see
Is washed-out dust and cleansed debris

Oh,

We forgot.

Again.

Would that a recollection could expire;
Not in the fuzzled hedgerows of old age,
But here amidst the furrows of a sage
And active mind -- A rustle of attire;
A scent, familiar, quickening desire;
A voice as soft as silence on a stage --
Unbundled straws like kindling to the page
That sets this enigmatic heart afire --
Would that I could entreat vacuity
To bar a thought, to keep it squarely shuttered,
Preventing it from creeping back inside --
The vacant plots might cleanse my memory,
Might numb an ache and leave a mind uncluttered --
The healing of a vast unfeeling void.

How I fell for you?
The dull hit of a bullet,
A clean through and through

Since the day we met,
I've run towards the sun -- so
She can never set

In the morning when you're thinking
Of the chores that lay ahead,
When the shower water's freezing,
When there's numbness in your head;
And the telephone is ringing
And there's someone at the door,
And the neighbour's dog is singing
And there's toys strewn on the floor;
When the kids are all a-squabbling,
When their music is too loud;
When the car has trouble starting
And it makes a knocking sound;
When you breathe a heavy sigh
And wish this day would pass you by

When the office phone is ringing
In the middle of your Zoom,
And the coffee tastes disgusting
And your client's a buffoon;
And your secretary is waving
As she tries to catch your eye,
And she's holding the receiver
With a teardrop in her eye;
And her frantic face is straining
As she passes you the phone,
And you hear the desperation
In the voice that calls you home;
When you breathe a heavy sigh
And wish this day would pass you by

At the school gate is a circus
And you think that you're the clown,
And your feet feel far too heavy
As they scrape along the ground;
And the sirens are a-wailing
As the uniforms go by,
And you feel your nerves are failing
And you dare not catch an eye;
And the headteacher is waiting
With his head bowed to his chest,
And he beckons you to join him
And he leads you from the rest;
And you breathe a heavy sigh
And wish this day would pass you by

And his words impart a sadness
That you cannot understand,
And you're staring at your fingers
As he's holding tight your hand;
And you see a policeman crying
Huddled on the stony ground,
With his colleagues standing by him
And they never make a sound;
And you walk across the carpark
And you walk towards the spot
Where the ambulance is waiting
And your stomach's in a knot;
And you breathe a heavy sigh
And wish this day had passed you by

And the doctor grabs your shoulder
As you stand outside the room
Where your broken child is laying
In the dimness and the gloom;
And the vest they wore this morning
Is ******* up and on the bed,
And there's tubes still in their nostrils
And their sheets are stained with red;
And he's talking and he's talking
But you don't hear what he said,
Just the faintest understanding
That perhaps someone is dead;
And you breathe a heavy sigh
And wish this day had passed you by

Just this morning you were thinking
Of the chores that lay ahead,
With the shower water freezing,
And a numbness in your head;
And the telephone was ringing
There was someone at the door,
And the neighbour's dog was singing
There were toys strewn on the floor;
And the kids were all a-squabbling,
How you miss that happy sound;
And the music they were playing,
You would love to hear it loud;
And the car had trouble starting
And it made a knocking sound;

Can you breathe one heavy sigh,
And have this day just pass you by?

Two souls collided
And ricocheted
And bounced apart
And travelled on

Two bowls of glass
Too cracked and scarred
To bear the mead
Love feasts upon

Love weighs on the heart,
Music lifts the soul —
Life is à la carte,
Morsels of the whole

Spring to each romance;
Summer in the sun —
In the autumn, dance —
Let winter never come

Could I conduct you with a flute?
Could you play trombone sans a suit?
Is baton waving with my arms
Necessity for Bach and Brahms?

Would jeans or tracksuit so offend
To cause the notes to break or bend?
Do shiny shoes impact the pitch?
Do taut bow ties do aught but itch?

Could one less trumpet cause the brass
To sound too hollow, weak and crass?
Would changing colours of their strings
Impinge the sounds of violins?

Would triangles still work as squares?
Do snare drums also work as snares?
Could pins be instruments, if dropped?
Is it not time this nonsense stopped?

Sudoku Simon
Plays “The Witness” — Beams switch on
For mental fitness!

You gave them all hope
When hope was their need
You saved them from the rope
And you planted the seed
That freedom was won
That the future was theirs
All the bad times were gone
There would be no more tears

And the planes overhead
And the boots on the ground
And the guns in their hands
Made a beautiful sound
And the women they cried
And their children ran free
And their men were alive
And life was as it should be

The years long dragged on
And the naysayers said
And the green men agreed
With a nod of their head
The future was signed
With a flick of a wrist
And one last hope resigned
And was lost in the mist

And the planes overhead
Took the boots from the ground
As the guns in their hands
Made a terrible sound
And the women they cried
For their children to be free
For their men to be alive
For life to be as it had been

And the women they cried
For their children to be free
For their men to be alive
For life to be as it had been

All things must have a counterweight;
Each Yin, a Yang; each soul, a mate;
An arbitrator to the form,
A becalmed eye to quell the storm —

And LOVE! Oh LOVE!  You too shall find
That you and GRIEF are kin combined;
That one comes not without its twin,
For one to end, one must begin —

And so poor mortals face this plight:
To love AND grieve, or flee the fight?
For LOVE may be the greatest pleasure,
But LOVE and GRIEF are no half-measure.

Wake me not from solitude
To tell me I am alone;
Place no cup of kindness here
Beneath my silent throne;
Lift your gaze not heavenward,
Look not unto the sky,
For I am one lost to this world,
For I was born to die

Break no stone, nor cut no bough,
And trouble not the soil;
Make no mark to why or how
Suspended was my toil;
Bring no breath, no uttered word,
No sentiment of joy,
For I am one lost to this world,
For I was born to die

Life without regrets
Defeats the point — Place your bets,
Risk the whole **** joint

Bitcoin wallets fold
Without a din — Alms of old
Rattle ne’er a tin

Verily I say
To thee of TRUTH — Long she lay,
Libelled as uncouth

I look the last this land I leave behind —
Timeless as water, bountiful as sorrow,
Abode today, a memory tomorrow;
Her contours etched untarnished in my mind —
How sweet our first encounter; how unkind
That time which man is wont to beg and borrow
Brought forth this bitter twilight ere a morrow
When all our self-same sunsets will have shined —
    Henceforth sunrise shall tarry ere it greets me;
    The midday sun shall cast a sterner gaze
    As paths unknown reveal their hidden troves;
    Home is the sacrifice for those who journey
    Without return;  We venture through the groves
    Of doubt and fear to set our lives ablaze.

Seasons come and go —
Spring births Summer; Autumn leaves;
Winter yields her woe

Witches at your door —
With Frankenstein and Batman?
Candied gifts galore!

Painter and poet,
Artists, both — One doth show it,
The other doth quoth!

Star-crossed lovers died,
Upon a blade and poisoned,
At each other’s side.

Woeful was the bride,
At peace where two unseasoned
Star-crossed lovers died,

Taken by the tide
Who named two lovers treasoned,
At each other’s side.

Speak their names with pride,
For in that crypt where reasoned
Star-crossed lovers died,

Love does still reside,
In lovers lain imprisoned
At each other’s side.

Love dies not denied;
It dwells ‘twixt where garrisoned
Star-crossed lovers died,
At each other’s side.

LOVE, the greatest gift,
Lies disguised astern cold eyes,
Lost alone adrift.

Depression is a flat and empty road,
Gray bitumen against a dull gray sky,
No pit stops to unload a heavy load,
No off-ramps and no stop signs by and by,
A shadow etched upon its lifeless face
From clouds that blot affection from the sun,
Loping alone through endless open space,
Unpurposed hitherto when it begun —

It stretches like a finger pointing forth
To where the earth and heaven press their lips,
A mocking jest to whom may seek its end,
And on its back we mortals weave and wend,
A conga-line of self-absorbent trips
We weigh as gold, yet tally not their worth.

A darkness crept into my waking crypt,
Its tendrils coiled to grip my tortured throat,
Till retching, retching, gurgled on a rote,
Prostrate, held in its clutches, tightly gripped —
No eye perceived this devil as it slipped
From day to blackened day inside to gloat;
An instrument was I to sound its note,
A plaything used, discarded, broken, stripped —
The world became a window; The outdoors
Turned alien; The beast remained inside,
Content to keep the prison of my mind —
From time to time I dared unto the stores,
        But ever on returning I would find
        The nightmare waiting where we both reside.

We are as sand and each is but a grain,
And as the gulls that circle, wings unfurled,
That seem as one to stars above the world,
We are akin to each, yet not the same —
And if one grain is plucked unto the sea,
Do stars proclaim diminished is the beach?
Do gulls bemoan the lesser is their breach
For banquet set ‘tween ocean and the lea?
No, no! Tis brother misses sister lost;
Tis mother mourns a son, or daughter taken.
Young gulls soar still; Old stars gleam on unshaken.
Tis deep amongst the dunes wherein the host
        Does quake as news of twilight whistles by,
        Heedless to one less twinkle in the sky.

I cannot speak for thee, but here I lay
Ensconced inside my home, not struck with fear,
But purposed to entrench within this sphere
Until this growing gloom has passed away —
I dine on steak, with wine; I quaff my scotch,
And pick at nibbles from a fancy plate;
I click to find a comedy to watch,
Averting eyes from news I’ve come to hate —
Was it thus so when plague swept through the land?
When Spanish flu ran rampant and unchained?
Did children sneak to parties parents banned?
Were beaches full of tourists unrestrained?
        I think, compared to them, we have it best,
        And time shall ease our sorrows with her zest.

Winds from the mountain sail in ‘cross the sea,
Tree tops are whistling a wild melody;
Time, the old fiddler, has struck up his bow
As Summer flees south with the waning Sun’s glow —

Lock up the windows and seal all the doors,
A red mist is rising on these hallowed shores;
Shelves full to bursting and no one let in,
A storm is a-looming about to begin —

Footprints still rest in the places we’ve been,
Faltering short of new pastures unseen;
Untrodden pathways lead yonder away,
Unto an horizon, unto a new day —

Mist hides the morrow that lingers in wait
To greet weary travellers who pass by its gate;
Night is the shadow that cloaks all in fear,
Dawn is the beacon to beckon light near —

Out from the mist, from the dark, shall arise
A halo of sunlight to brighten the skies;
Sunrise and sunset shall be bookends, no more,
For days long since borrowed, and days still in store.

Some scars never heal —
Like dormant snow-capped pathways,
Secrets to conceal.

Climate change apocalypse,
The views of eco-terrorists:
    No one flying,
    Airlines dying,
    People unemployed;

Gulp clean air in grateful sips,
Locked in your home with trembling lips:
    No one buying,
    Industry dying,
    Boarded shops preside;

Marvel as the sunlight skips
Across the bows of rusting ships:
    No one cruising,
    Nor perusing
    Trips on oceans wide;

Ah! This world does well eclipse
Old oil-obsessed dictatorships:
     No one caring,
     No one sharing,
     Since our whole world died.

One hundred and seventy six
Were murdered within a few ticks —
Now to hide from a war,
We’ll pretend we’re quite sure,
Their missile was launched just for kicks

O Mistress Moth! Leap not unto the flame;
Fear not the night that cloaks prey from its foes —
Light is the unforgiving dais of fame
And seeking of its joys unveils its woes —
The pointed pyramid has but one capstone;
Yet many storied stones may crave its peak,
And trampling underfoot the very backbone
That urges strength may make the structure weak —
Be guided not by falsehoods ever bright;
The fairest candle lit beyond a pane
Of crystal glass may dream of freedoms flight,
Imprisoned in its lonely lead-lined frame —
        Be at peace —  Night demands no keen redress;
        And suffer not through fear of loneliness.

O Mistress Moth!  Too swift the curtain came
To billow through a broken pane the throes
Of light and life anointed on your name —
A miscreant by each appointment grows
Until upon a trove it stands full-height,
And towering hence commands with regal reign
A Queen’s demise — So was it done this night —
Let all who bore their malice wear this shame,
For in their hands this sin will not atone;
It grows as shadows lengthen in the wake
Of shuttered light — To be as one alone
Was much to bear, too much this one to take —
        So by this end an end we now possess;
        Our trial to bear this loss for loneliness.

O Mistress Moth!  A clamour and acclaim
Born of deeds born of sadness softly goes
On — On with gust and grateful to remain
An itch to tease far far beyond repose —
A single truth makes many falsehoods moan —
And some that made your vow no longer speak,
And some that speak speak things to them unknown,
And who knows true the boldness of the meek?
Yours lives eternal blazing in the light —
A hope borne beacon fated to retain
The dreams and fears of one short mortal plight;
A star that echoes like a lost refrain —
        If light was all your heart sought to caress,
        May boundless light repeal your loneliness.

Tis her eyes that I remember —
Intense as sun upon the frost,
Intent in spite of all they’d lost,
Invested in their task

They smouldered like an ember —
And there she sat, her table lade
With baubles bright and trinkets made,
Her face a stoic mask

Her fingers moved like grains of sand
Let loose within an hourglass bell,
And nimble as each grain that fell
They harnessed beads with thread

Her needle flickered as each strand
Stretched forwards like an uncoiled spring
To form a pretty Dragon wing
Beneath a Dragon head

And whilst she toiled, I read the card
That lay amongst her trinket faire —
“I am blind” — The words hung there
Heedless to my approach

Unseeing eyes wore no regard
For awe impaled upon my face,
As on she went to stitch and lace
Her pretty Dragon brooch.

John Keats
Didn’t write any Tweets
Nor ever undertook
To post on Facebook

Percy B. Shelley
Sailed the Don Juan to sea
Where a monstrous storm seen rarely
Robbed Frankenstein’s Mary

His friend, Lord Byron,
Watched the beach with his pyre on
And then, on a whim,
He went for a swim

William Shakespeare
Loved his wife so sincere
That he willed her when dead
His second best bed

Sir Wilfred Owen
Wrote a **** spiffing poem
And he might well have wrote more
Had he outlived the war

Robert Frost
Got hopelessly lost
When for giggles and a laugh
He took the wrong path

Emily Dickinson
Needed hope to cling on,
So for lack of lucky heather
She clutched an old feather

William Blake
Saw the tiger, too late,
And he felt a cold shiver
As it ate his liver

I am — You are — He is — She is — We are —
A populace of conjugated verbs,
All congregated like a bunch of herbs
Wrapped up in twine, with never thyme to spare —

And Basil is too busy now to care —
He roots around the meters at the kerbs
For fumbled coins lost by “them from the burbs”,
And on a lucky day he looks to share

With Rosemary a coffee and a cake,
Always a takeaway, they daren’t go in
For though their coins are welcome, not so they,
And so, like king and queen, they leave the din
And hold their court in subways to partake
Of feasting on their banquet, out the rain.

This toll of life?  Tis not of years
And youthful cloth outgrown,
Nor failing eyes dulled in arrears
For sleep they might have known —

Tis in the heart the toll is paid
With weight of love ungiven,
And foolish is the heart afraid
To seek on Earth for Heaven.

How Morrow weaves her evensong
For buds, unwary, sweet and young,
Full-blossomed low on boughs of trees,
Still blissful in their infancies,
Beguiled by wind and rain and sun
To crawl to stand to walk to run!

And Oh! How Morrow ever-long
Shall pluck with purpose from the throng
Aged thorny vines on withered knees,
Wild saplings cursed with Time's disease,
And all betwixt whose yarns have spun
Out from the void whence they begun.

And so, sweet Morrow, shadows long
Flit fairy-like o'er milkmoon seas,
Thy cold enticing webs are strung
On oceans calm and careless leas;
A twilight rests on mountains flung
Unto the heaven that oversees
A midnight roll-call aired with sorrow
For young sweet buds who’ll miss thee, Morrow.

LADY, born for Heaven's gate,
Thy nation to inspire —
Alas that thou did immolate
Atop thy self-same pyre

LADY, borne from ashen grate,
Thy nation shall aspire
To gift to thee thy heavenly trait
And raise thee ever higher

Breathless is the SEA —
Wild her eyes, and brash her cries,
Unforgiving, SHE.

Far-flung from the lea,
Men have yearned to hear her sighs,
Breathless is the SEA.

Beckoned from the quay,
Ships endure her fall and rise,
Unforgiving, SHE.

Unto each: The Free,
The Poor, The Slaves, Wealthy, Wise —
Breathless is the SEA.

Jack-tars fear her Fee:
Eighth-bell tolls for their demise,
Unforgiving, SHE.

Ever SHE will be
A mirror to heavenly skies —
Breathless is the SEA,
Unforgiving, SHE.

Sleep well Sweetheart and do not worry much —
Tho' snow and ice shall ever be my bower,
I share with God and thee this final hour
And in thy ***** dwell — Thou art my crutch
To pluck me off a perch, and in thy clutch
I soar beyond the mountain, and its power
To hold me in its grasp, consume, devour,
To leave me destitute without thy touch —
    The herald Sun plays fanfare to my passing,
    The priestly Mountain keeps his stony face,
    The clouds above like mourners are amassing
    In slow procession by this resting place —
    As slumber steals me from thy lovers’ touch,
    Sleep well Sweetheart and do not worry much.

A *** of earl grey             -- Clay container (3)
Is the *****, they say,       -- Inclined lea (5)
From unrighteous ***     -- Turf retainer (3)
To the hand of ***.          -- Deity (3)

We look, we strive, enquire, we cannot see
Into the fog that time has wove to shield
Past days from us — Some things never revealed
Shall ever be to us a mystery —
And of you, many talk to some degree
And to and fro with evidence they wield,
And for or ‘gainst with joy too ill concealed
They argue this and that as their decree —
And you ever remain a silent stone;
From you, no utterance, truth nor denial —
Your voice is lost, your flesh has gone to bone,
You cannot speak the manner of your trial —
For one as you whose life is all but known,
Mayhap tis fair your death is yours alone.

The monsters in this world
Look just like you and me;
They walk free on the earth
Despising all they see,
And if you could look deep,
Look deep within their soul,
Then you would find they keep
The goodness that they stole

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?

The newspapers report
And glorify their game,
A beast no one has caught
With some god awful name,
And if you could but feel
And feel the way they do,
Where nothing seems quite real,
They're empty thru and thru

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?

Three children found today,
Too gruesome to describe,
They went outside to play,
They used to be alive,
And someone somewhere knows
The shoe-prints in the mud,
And somewhere someone throws
The weapon caked in blood

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?

A lake as still as still — a cloudless sky —
A bird-less forest — silent as the page,
That monk-like sits reflecting for an age
On pious deeds exalted upon high,
The page gilded in wisdom, lauded by
Its maker’s peers, wherein is set the stage
For Nature’s bountied beauty — I give homage
Unto its gifted craftsman, one that I
Have oft’ with envious eyes admired afar,
And matchless to his art, have grasped for skill
Far far above my grade — From him to me
Has come a gift as bright as Keats' Bright Star —
        Unto thy lake, may this stone rend the still,
        And loose thy songbird skywards, Timothy.

There lies one in Rome
With whom all England was blest,
Whose bright star came home;

And if thou wouldst roam
To seek for all that is best,
There lies one in Rome

Beneath stately dome --
A spirit too young to rest,
Whose bright star came home

And whose living tome
Gifted the heavens their crest --
There lies one in Rome

O'er seas laced with foam,
Whose words still quicken our breast,
Whose bright star came home --

His name gleams as chrome,
Where water writ his bequest --
There lies one in Rome
Whose bright star came home.