.


A thought that transports the mind,
captured before it’s forgotten.
That for me is poetry
in language sublimely defined.

There’s a hole in my quilt I must patch it.
There’s a hole in my sock I must **** it.
There’s a hole in my *** I must ..……!

A secret shelter by design

whose function is primarily

providing unseen sanctuary

discretely hiding all that’s there

elasticated underwear.

.
Tracing freedoms path
In glorious liberty
Discoveries made.


Soapbox arbiter
preaching in empty spaces
a raised voice unheard.

Above the multi-mullioned windows
chimneys ****** their brick and stone
beside the stately sycamores
which wave and sing to simple chords
conducted by the wandering breeze

Reaching down from branch and limb
and silvered by the moons first touch
where softened contrasts merge as one
their night time shadows shift and sway
on wood side tracks and gravelled paths

Into this scene a girl appears
a gentle lass of summers few
unpractised in the arts of life
and waiting for the warming sun
to melt the ice of youths reserve

Light of foot she strokes the ground
with shoes which dance to simple chords.

.
The young lad did feel glum
He’d stuffed a strawberry up his ***
And yet it came as quite a shock
When Mum sent him to see the Doc
‘Mmm’ said the Doc ‘you’ve been a prat
I’d best prescribe some cream for that’.

.
A forlorn place
where nettles bend
and in their court
still wet with rain
from crying clouds
its wrapping torn
the colours bleached
its petals bowed, translucent now
in shades of pastel grey.

On a board
carved
carved into slices.

My story
sliced
sliced into sound bites
my eulogy.

.

No longer lit by festal breath
the pollard willows sway and stretch
brushed gently by the sighing breeze
they melodize as church bells toll
I walk the lonely road.

.
A place of calm tranquillity
where springtime flowers kiss the wind
and foliage sings in music tones
a wall, some paling, or a post
a safe support to bear the fruit
in gentle breeze and softening rain
in sylvan spring and summer sun
a place of calm tranquillity

Books unread
Words unsaid
Decisions disengaged.


Tears shed
Words said
Hearts heal.


Nose streaming
Breath steaming
White winter.

A horrible fall.
Alone with both legs broken
I must run for help

A word to the wise
Advice is what I offer
But you are stupid

Clear glass window pane
Large vistas of beyondness
Winter approaches.

As silvered moonlight starts to fade
the slowly rising off-white sun
peers down on field and vale
where leafless, flowerless stalks and stems
stand sentinel in lingering snow
and early snowdrops raise their heads
in harmony with natures call.

.


An off-white sun disc slowly rises
peering down on field and vale
as weakling dawn gains energy
and leafless, flowerless stalks and stems
stand sentinel in lingering snow.

The snowdrops raise their nodding heads
beside the manufactory
where early workers whistle low
while toiling at their weaving looms
in harmony with natures songs
which hang in cloud laced skies.