Time is a blink, a tiny ***** of passing sky
reflected in the cast unseeing eye of Neptune's dolphin
lost to a storm millennia ago
a fountain chained to the deck of a wreck
bound for the palace of a forgotten king
proud ruler of some distant land
yet here it lays in watery sand
and waving weaving fishy grass
only the truly ancient know
that all things pass

Compassionate wind
blow soft upon my face
caress my skin
from brow to nose to chin
linger with your fingers
comb my tangled hair
strong but light as air
let me know that you are there
and that you care

Garbage can summer
your breath smells of dust
sticky cola fingers and ice cream faces
mixed with orange from the wrappers of long dead lollies
hot tarmac and the heady fragrance of sun dried dog ***
hot girl you need the mouthwash of rain
and perhaps an Autumn flavoured mint

Draw down the waning moon
hold back the gentle light of fading stars
take not their beauty
nor their shine to be extinguished one by one
I love you, let this night be never done

Dance me to the music playing soft inside our heads
rock me to the sound of words much better left unsaid

Catch me as our feet tread light on old familiar ground
starry eyed and moonstruck as you spin me round and round

Remember me in better days that now have come and gone
waltz me to forever so our tune can carry on

Kiss me when the lights have dimmed and the tempo starts to slow
dance with me one final time, hold me don't let go

Haiku butterfly
sips nectar from word flowers
makes a poem grow

Winter has a raw and savage charm
he will not bow a knee to Spring
nor Spring bend down to Summer
for the fertile warmth she brings
and in her turn that green and gracious lady fair
makes no atonement to the Autumn
for the fruit he bears

Autumn leaves blow random wild
a Harlequin in scarlet cloak
spring and summer's fated child
he dances freely with the breeze
and does not seem to know or care
that harsher colder winter winds
will one day strip him bare

Summer winds will sweetly sing
of fresh ideas that grew in Spring
Autumn winds will heave a sigh
to bid ideas of youth goodbye
Winter winds will cry and moan
they face the coldest months alone
with old ideas set hard as stone

Invisible breath
sometimes in the colder months
she wears a white coat

On my kitchen shelf
happy little saucepan birds
nest inside each other

Sea-Flower
you were never one of us
not really
I think you drifted
perhaps we cut you loose
I cannot remember
anyway we meant no harm
we had the shallow callow charm of youth
a cruel chant
which slays the slayer in the end
how could we comprehend your need
or the way that it would end
one cold October day among the ****
pale as apple blossom
Sea-Flower indeed

Bittersweet words
drip from your tongue
in a pool of deception
through which we wade
the silent rain of promises made

I loved you most
in our bittersweet years
a taste of honey
wrapped in tears

A scurrying wind is a tidy wind
a helpful picker of discarded litter
things that we should have put in the bin
but it has no bag to put them in

Fields of white crosses
to mark out the losses
of harvested poppies

Willow hair
sky reflected
Narcissus introspected
floats lissom in the pool

Sunlight bathes the sleeping leaves
in shades of green and gold
this was always winter wood
without your hand to hold
now it fills with music
a bird in every tree
your dappled sunlit kisses
a breath of spring to me

Found floating among the ****
one beach shoe sized five
what happened to the other one
because we never found it
perhaps it went with you into the wide blue waves
a faithful companion and foot soldier
comfort for the journey you never said you were making
you might have to hop through eternity
that would be silly
and you never did like cold feet

Found floating among the ****
one beach shoe sized five
what happened to the other one
because we never found it
perhaps it went with you into the wide blue waves
a faithful companion and foot soldier
comfort for the journey you never said you were making
you might have to hop through eternity
that would be silly
and you never did like cold feet

That mournful longing feeling
so sweet and yet so sad
wistful for a something
you probably never had

Slipped over on the ice
she is languid in repose
mourned only by the howling wind
and the wings of flapping crows

Sumptuous morning
still unbroken
not a single word is spoken
untouched by feet or passing paws
yawning breeze gives soft applause
and combs the bed head tangles
from grasses newly woken

Autumn nights
smoky dusk possess us
brings on a certain melancholy feeling
there is a quality of ending
in this falling light unbending

Oh wind
ill tempered and contrary thing
you drag the peaceful sea  
by the scruff of its watery neck
harrying the sleeping waves  
to rise and fall
crashing at your beck and call
yet when we want to sail
or dry our clothes
you don't appear at all

The dove of my dreams has flown
out through the window of day
to the place where she roosts
high in the rafters of my head
sometimes she will turn pigeon
and bring me confusing ****** stuff
but mostly she brings peace
sleep well little dream dove
I hope to see you later

You are lovely
full of birdsong
and not much dew
was there ever a morning
such as you

Walk to the edge
where words lie unspoken
silent and broken
on the rocks of the sea of you
if you cannot fish for words
how can you feed yourself
when you hunger for more
along this lonely and uncertain shore

The grave
a quiet place of tumbled stone
which covers cold and ancient bone
which once was warm as you or I
and in our turn we too will die
fragile life to fragile dust
we live as every creature must
fixed in time of certain span
and then return whence we began

Do not talk to me
or claim a previous affection
we had nothing but a tenuous connection
do not press for friendship in my name
I do not wish the bond or seek to find the same
so leave me in the same state as you came
now get you gone
forget
move on

Soft falls the light upon your face
shadowing each trace of sleep
who am I to know or see
the secrets that you keep
we give our minds
to flights of dreams
but only to ourselves it seems

Just for today
I have cast off the cares of Winter
and tied them in a cloth of April green
I hid them on my hope shelf
where they cannot be seen

When you were bold Sir Lancelot
and I was a lady fair
we cast our fortune to the wind
and love was free as air

When you were old Sir Lancelot
and I was a lady fair
I never thought there would come a time
when you would not be there

When you were gone Sir Lancelot
I missed you being near
you left a sad and grieving maid
your lonely Guinevere

Come sleep
kiss me gentle
lay yourself upon me as a lover
thou art more lovely than a summers day
or indeed those darling buds of may
and thee would be more welcome

To be a poet
is to recognise words
as knotted strings
they come twisted
coiled into bundles
which must be undone
with questing fingers
so that naked language sticks
waiting fresh and in the raw
to be joyously unraveled
that's what poetry is for

You cannot waste a word
it is made from breath
released as an airy nothing
an elusive shy and singing bird
that only lands
once it is seen or heard

The past is a smell of gently frying bacon
in a house with a green front door
you were too young to remember much
except a dog named Sandy or Rex
it licked up the ice cream you dropped
and someone kind
that you cannot bring to mind
wiped away the tears
from your sticky infant fingers
the memory is gone
but the perfume lingers

Curious clever beings us
blessed with the gift of reason
an ability to sit and think
and that is what has brought us
to the very brink
our talent for deduction
and logical construction
may ultimately sow
the seeds of our destruction

When the mind lies fallow
do not weep
or think all birds have flown
from bitter dying earth
where nothing grows or ever shall
calm yourself
your barren land is merely sleeping
thoughts like seeds must wait
and feel the warmth of spring before they flower
they will come again
to drink the light and taste the air
green shoots
from roots you never knew were there

Poem
a drink of words
sometimes shaken
stirred with thought
the cocktail
is you

It's hard to chase the shapes of sleep
those grey elusive foggy sheep
who graze upon the fields of night
they wrap themselves in dreams to hide
while tired eyes stay open wide

what work is this
who spoke with warm and loving breath
to charm the birds and wake the trees
who stirred the breeze
on bleak and barren land
who turned a skilled and knowing hand
to thaw the frosty frozen ground
who cast the springtime all around
and caused the sleeping plants to grow
who's work is this
I do not know

Adrift on a rising wave
not made of sea
or silver hum of distant bees
nor wind
or leaves on waving trees
not earth not sky
nor singing birds
but movement made of living words
that float and curl
and dart and hide
strange fish to catch on a poets tide

Peace
that shy elusive beast
a spotted doe or hind
hiding deep within the forest of your mind
which makes her difficult to find

If you follow in my path
tread light in my shade
excuse the faltering steps that I made
if I left my heavy footprints showing
the damage I assure you was unknowing
erase my dust
walk with care
make it look
like I was never there

Come spring
extend your hand
caress  the waiting warming land
give us singing birds on green and leafy trees
swap gale for breeze
soft light and scented air
disperse our shivering winter cares
and bless each fertile blooming day
through April and then on to May
please stay

Winter you sneaking thief
explain yourself
you stole the sun
to leave us with much colder days
depriving us of warming rays
replacing skies of white and blue
with others of a greyer hue
a world of ice
what did you do
I know the catalyst was you

Remove the waking winter sky
the stars and moon above
take them all
but leave me something
I am vulnerable to love

You can cherish a dream
but there may be other rivers
other lands in which to seed your hopes
don't turn your wishes into ropes

star above the trench
hanging in a cleaner place
that this endless war