A smile, a glance
he loves me

an angry look
he loves me not

a kiss on the cheek
he loves me

a sly pinch
he loves me not

a tender caress
he loves me

a savage shove
he loves me not

a bouquet of flowers
he loves me

a punch
he * *

Let yours be the voice that awakens me from sleep
Let yours be the arms that me from danger keep
Let yours be the body that forever me shields
Let mine be the body that to your gentle touch yields
Let yours by the eyes that smile through my tears
Let you be the one who stays by me through the years
I love you my Darling as I always have done
For you are the sun that throughout my life has shone

Our circle of love was as rounded and perfect as
a new world held in my hands and heart
as a silver crescent moon bright and shining
from the start
as a diamond faceted in oh so many ways
a square-cut emerald gemstone
echoing the fresh lush greenness
of those first heady days
but all now has ended
come to a sad conclusion
all to an amorphous shape
ill-formed, almost a nothingness
vague and half-concealed
love that was once the
perfect fresh plucked apple,
red and ripe, has rotted
its innermost being decayed and
set to a bitterness strange and congealed
my hands are stained with my tears
my heart is as black
as deadly nightshade at its core
a dark teardrop pearl malformed and tarnished
beached upon a dark and distant shore
that circle of love that once I thought was ours
once rounded and perfect as a new world
that I held once in my hands and heart
is now a torrent of teardrops
onto the letter fallen
fallen from my trembling hands
a letter ripped - and ripped - apart

Chaos came creeping into the unsuspecting world
Invisible, except beneath the microscope's lens
borne upon the breath of old injustices, and rage
a crazed creature creeping out of Nature's cage

No-one saw the escape, no-one suspected
no-one could see its spiked and viperish visage
born coldly upon a sneeze, a cough, a breath
such was the fetid face of this unseen death

No continent, powerful, wealthy, mighty, rich or poor
witnessed chaos come unbidden through the door
but it is here, and continents and countries fall apart
Experts no protection can from their theories impart

Chaos is not always the detonation of bombs or guns
nor is it born in the blinding blazing of exploding suns
chaos is here always, watching and waiting to pounce
An unseen Terrorist that does not its arrival announce

Stronger than steel is that web of love
that between two people is spun
more refreshing than the gentlest of rains
and more warming than the sun

Trust me, don't be afraid of being left on the shelf
For, if born of nothing but the needy love of self
love itself can swiftly become such a selfish thing
when loneliness and passion together take wing

For thus it is that Love is a complicated *******
for it often seeks out that uncomplicated yearning
and then turns it into a thing of so little substance
signifying nothing, and thoughtless, never learning

it assumes many forms, from starlings whirling swarms
to the sweet bluebirds that soft songs so sweetly sing
and white swans that seem the epitome of love so true
all these avian jesters can make a twitching fool of you

Take advice, do not a perch provide when this creature
seeks out a lonely heart in which to settle, roost and hide
for it will so swiftly spread out its darkly feathered wings
and fill your unsuspecting heart with all manner of things

Its fervid fetid feathers of passion will choke your soul
Its probing beak of jealousy will swiftly break your heart
this winged thing called love is a complicated *******
for, born of passions carrion, it will slowly tear you apart

That sleep from which our loved ones do not wake
That drift into nothingness, that silence everlasting
Death takes, and leaves a mere shadow of each self
for us to place words in Memorium or urn upon shelf

An urn that, even if emptied of that ash
into a blaze in home hearth grate
would not as a glorious phoenix
our lost loved ones reincarnate

That sleep from which our loved ones do not wake
that drift into nothingness, that silence everlasting
that Death in all its arrogance our loved ones
for its own perverse satisfaction takes

The impotent wishing
for some merciful being
to shut you off from the
unremitting, almost daily
mixture of
frustration and despair
it's been like this for too long
you wake in the small hours
wondering at the alarm
to all but your inward ear
seeking the tremor of hands
that sudden cramp which
you stretch your limbs
the salty trajectory of the tears
all those times when that faceless one pounced
and still, in ready ambush, lies
and that lost soul sets your pulse to fast
and deep inside you
full of impotence, cries

Tears are something that I shed almost every day
looking at the manner in which we treat this world
seeing the awesome beauty in the flower that unfurls
caressing the softness of a beloved Grandson''s curls
Yes, I know that tears are not always of sadness or of gloom
are not always shed in privacy in the night-silent room
for sometimes they are shed in public, and out there,
out in this wide, wide world, this universe we all share
shed for the valiant soldiers who suffer for the fight
shed for the thousands for whom there is no light
shed as an ocean carries its tides that ebb and flow
shed as the rivers and streams upon eternal wandering go
but the saddest tears that anyone, everyone, can shed
are the tears for the ones from whom all hope has sped
tears for the children whose homes are by war torn apart
tears for the ones who hold no love within their hearts
So never tell me that I should not weep, I should not cry
instead, seek in your own hearts, the reason why

There is a Gift deep down inside
where nobody else can see
if that gift you can find
let it shine let it shine
let it shine
for you and for me

out of the depths of your heartache
out of the depths of your soul
let the sun come inside
to where that gift hides
fragmented then
let it be whole

It will shine like a beacon
for everyone
it will give this sad world
something good
there’s a gift deep inside
but please don’t let it hide
let it shine
for this sad old world’s good

The onlooker somehow fears this billowing
almost a smoke erupting from ancient landscapes
a smoke that a voice possesses
a voice that it owns, and uses to persuade,
sears into the mind with something
insubstantial yet tangible at its centre
as of a dark blaze suddenly ignited
shifting, drifting into a murderous haze
morphing into half-imagined shapes and shades

The Country that promised
equality, opportunity
free passage given
and hope to all who entered there
now trampled by unfulfilled dreams
a lack of understanding
inequality left them trampled underfoot
necks knelt upon
hands shackled
that once were willing
the plantations echoed in a thousand
down-trodden neighborhoods
the wrong side of the tracks
downtown around every corner
promises broken
the burned spoons
the silver foil
the knives
the spilled blood
This was
the Land of the Free

“Dunkirk – the forgotten heroes Channel 4 June 19th 2019 ( 51st Highland)



Old Soldier proudly stands
slow tears upon his furrowed skin
memories surfacing that for so many years
had been lodged in his heart deep within
he straightened, saluted with trembling hand
remembering old friends who would not yield
who fell, in streets, on rain swept beaches
on those entrenched and foreign fields
on the immaculate earth he stood
between precision’d rows of  stones
each a name and age recording
once these were his comrades
who stood proudly on parade
now interred beneath white marble
commemorating palely
lives too early ended
so has he come
so do you see him standing
a long, long, shadow casting
over this green space this place
of quiet remembrance everlasting

Upon the face of blue-green
globe in endless, unfelt spin
amid a vast and still expanding space
life unfolds in movement
crawling, flying, swimming
sinuous, slow or fast in
terms of grace and pace

Mountains soar to pierce
the endless skies of storm or calm
where clouds mist pinnacles
of green, of fiery red, or white
Sun warms by day, then stars
in frosted wonder grace
with diamonds the velvet night

Crawling creatures, the still earth
in endless movement carpet
Flying creatures fill the skies
with hum and swish of beating wing
and every swimming creature
stirs the fathomed depths
and makes the Sailor's heart
with longing sing

And in the crown that graces all of Earth
a treasure trove of jewels in splendour lie
blossoms that in shape and form and colour
fill with awe and wonder heart and eye

Such is Nature, realm of the great Creator
Realm of the Artist who with brush unseen
paints the world with red, blue, gold and silver
orange, yellow, white and blue and green

The sandstorm of desperation
blows through my arid heart
tearing my future's longed for oasis apart
my heartbeats are the drumming
of countless Nomads' feet
all that I need is a well
from which my thirst to quench
give me love, give me
that well that is your heart
full of love deep and sweet

words defining women that could never men define
passionate, tenacious, smart, brilliant, and unyielding
dedicated, caring, and
just
plain
fine

The door shut inside my heart
the windows closed inside my soul
and the mist of betrayal gathered
behind each tear-filled eye
your last words echoed
down the darkened corridors of my mind
for you shut that door, you closed that window
you destroyed all my future
and yet you forgot to say
"Goodbye"

The impotent wishing
for some merciful being
to shut you off from the
unremitting, almost daily
mixture of
frustration and despair
it's been like this for too long
you wake in the small hours
wondering at the alarm
to all but your inward ear
seeking the tremor of hands
that sudden cramp which
you stretch your limbs
the salty trajectory of the tears
all those times when that faceless one pounced
and still, in ready ambush, lies
and that lost soul sets your pulse to fast
and deep inside you
full of impotence, cries

The impotent wishing
for some merciful being
to shut you off from the
unremitting, almost daily
mixture of
frustration and despair
it's been like this for too long
you wake in the small hours
wondering at the alarm
to all but your inward ear
seeking the tremor of hands
that sudden cramp which
you stretch your limbs
the salty trajectory of the tears
all those times when that faceless one pounced
and still, in ready ambush, lies
and that lost soul sets your pulse to fast
and deep inside you
full of impotence, cries

I watch with eyes long used
to seeing postures upright,
poised, or bowed
and brows confused
hands betraying age in speckled skin
cosmetics that hide the
insecurities within
I watch them
as they sit, stand, walk or pause
and see sometimes
what they would wish me not to see
the anger lodged within that
unleashes pink nailed claws
I hear from lips
the sharp tongues
brittle, hoarse
and watch and wonder at
these things I hear and see
and wonder what the watched ones
hear and see
in me?

Tears are something that I shed almost every day
looking at the manner in which we treat this world
seeing the awesome beauty in the flower that unfurls
caressing the softness of a beloved Grandson''s curls
Yes, I know that tears are not always of sadness or of gloom
are not always shed in privacy in the night-silent room
for sometimes they are shed in public, and out there,
out in this wide, wide world, this universe we all share
shed for the valiant soldiers who suffer for the fight
shed for the thousands for whom there is no light
shed as an ocean carries its tides that ebb and flow
shed as the rivers and streams upon eternal wandering go
but the saddest tears that anyone, everyone, can shed
are the tears for the ones from whom all hope has sped
tears for the children whose homes are by war torn apart
tears for the ones who hold no love within their hearts
So never tell me that I should not weep, I should not cry
instead, seek in your own hearts, the reason why