Do not think of me as gone
I am still here
in every leaf
every blade of grass
yes I am changed
rearranged
beyond understanding
freed from earthly bond
yet I go on
for now I know not where
but in every waking moment
be sure I will be there

I am the wind
the rain which pelts and blows full in the face of adversity
and the silent sound of a million damp and aching feet
I am friendships that will never come again
and the voice of doomed youth
I am memories in old age
the scarlet smell of crushed poppies
and the iron tang of spilled blood  and rusty wire
I am hope and loss
dignity in duty
and outright defiance in the face of defeat
I am all these things
I am remembrance

What is beauty
If you see it with your eyes
and I do not share with mine
is it any the less beautiful
for being yours alone

Blow rough wind
set the sea to howling
as a barking cur
foam flecked muzzle
wave whipped fur
a dog let free
at your command
shredding promontory land
chewing on that spit of stone
wearing down its chalky bone

Does a flying bird
See exactly the same bridge
As a swimming fish

At the corner
where the year turns
Autumn’s carefree child
dressed in shades of rebellious scarlet
whistles as he walks full into Winter
a vicious hungry old man
who strips him bare naked and cold
before he strolls away to find the waiting arms of spring
she wraps him in a warm embrace
bestowing kisses sweet enough to melt his cruel and icy heart
and leaves to find the Summer
bearing gifts of fruit
with which to make the heady wine of Autumn

Sometime
onetime
anytime
does it ever feel
like sanity is dripping
slowly slipping
like an eel
gushing from the tap
of the world
and you can't get a grip
on the handle of the bucket
to pour it back in

Take all the stars to string a necklace
thread on a burning sun of molten gold
it could not please me more my love
than when I have your hand to hold

My fern child
a little frond all rolled up tight
forever hiding from the light
why is it you are not like the others
a clever sister and noisy brothers
some of us find we can thrive in shade
I guess that's just the way you were made

Walk with me in Autumn
do not tread soft upon the leaves
enjoy and stamp and feel them crumble
kick them as they swirl and tumble
a carnival of mellow red and orange yellows swiftly gone
its coloured caravans will soon be moving on

Farewell Autumn Lord
All hail the pale Winter King
Let his rule begin

Cool winds of winter
blow but soft upon the land
not stronger
let sparks of Autumn
last a little longer
don't huff so hard
they lose their amber apple glow
hold in your icy breath
we do not want to see them go

The night sky was pierced
We watched leaking rain and stars
Wearing a tree hat

To live a life unscathed
is not to live at all
the nature of existence
means learning how to fall
how can you know what's out there
if you never jump off the wall

Lay quiet as if sleeping
tide take you now
sea foam as your comfort
pillowed by the ocean
rest for a head that is weary of dreams
sleep soft my lovely
so pale on the waves
among the shells
and the waving water weeds
safe in Neptune's garden

In the garden stir the flowers
that whisper through the trees
a subtle hint of fragrance
fading on the breeze


Ripples over pebbles
gentle rushing of the stream
is the smile in cool reflection
that of you or Angeline


In the **** that's slowly choking
to stem the watery flow
do you find her auburn tresses
and that face as white as snow


Does she walk beside you
like she did so long ago
it was you that drowned her
so only you would know!

Half of the somebody
that used to be
the widow nobody
that is me
in a whole new state
of washing up a single plate
at the isolated station
of solo occupation

My words are birds
beautiful delicate feathered things
on graceful multicoloured wings
set free to range the mental sky
they take me where
I dare not fly

Finality
is a reality
there is no endless love
no forever
even in the beauty of the stars above
all will end
we cannot transcend our allotted span
so live and laugh and dance while you can

Grey day cardigan
Jumper red and knitted green
Colours of winter

October night
a strange light
the face of winter
smiling through a pumpkin

Water on my mind
Sometimes murky sometimes clear
A pool of thought fish

Art is in the poet not the word
we sing the song
and write the lyrics
to a tune which must be heard

Wrap me in Autumn
warm among the leaves
wind up my colours
take down my flag of living
see it fade to memory
wave it no more
shroud me with October light
think of me as a year
that is slowly dying

Weary soulful sound
The chime of a city clock
Nick heard it calling

Water for ink
stains my toes
biro blue
my ending written
casting words before me
gently bobbing
floating flowers
on the sea of self destruction
curled petals
which read
not yet

Tiny bird I feel you shiver
quivering heart within your breast
strong hands to keep you safe
a place to rest before you fly
go now
spread your wings and say goodbye

Summer half over
Dusty feet in worn sandals
Show my ten brown toes

Shadows caught
waving curtains
nervous fingers
ever tapping
never still
beyond
and
beyond
and
beyond
the endless glassy spirals
filled with glassy spirals of their own
shattered fractal light
tight and broken pieces
filter
flicker
gutter
fall
in darkness
lie in muted heaps
so die the painted shades of sleep

Talk to me in Spring
of bright and coming things
a butterfly wing of words

Talk to me
in drowsy tones of endless Summer haze
fill the lengthening days

Talk to me
in woodsmoke Autumn,
when the nights close in, begin

Talk to me
wrapped in a cloak of Winter
melt the cold within

Talk to me
walk with me thoughout the year
speak and I will hear

Little storm lover
sitting on a windowsill
while others snore and dream their midnight dreams
cold feet a ticket to watch the lightning
thunder has electric bones
a drum roll giant coming ever nearer
she will catch it if they find her
well worth the risk
to watch the show

Where is the beauty
that tiny creeping flower
it blossoms in the cracks
between the slabbed ugliness of this world

Little bird
come inside
shake the chill
cast winter from your mind
let fall that cloak of grief
pooled around your feet
dark moss
old and dry
trampled to dust
watch me kick it away
forgotten in a corner
stay until the sun returns
let spring be your saviour

Japanese haiku
Distilled from simplicity
Essence of poet

Deep and cool green pool
Edge of the board looking down
A flight without wings

Watching from the edge
You can view eternity
Closer than you think

A yellow leaf
caught in the wind
it flutters
as it leaves the tree
try as you might
it won't be caught
I think that's called
ennui

Romeo
you were the East
but there was no sun
for you and Juliet
a drip of light
new sprung
from a talented quill
then darkness
stolen moments
briefly given
then taken
puppets
in the mind of your
creator

Haunted
by the ghost
of a tune that you heard
or a book you once read
a fluttering bird
that flew from your head

She was always there
Britain's loyal royal friend
Working to the end

Zéphyr soft upon my cheek
caress my face with spring
dance with me
wash me with rain
bring warmth
and swell the grain
oh fortunate wind
blown from the West
of all the breezes
I like you the best

Winter's song
is high and sharp
a razor cutting deep
everything it touches sleeps
yet out of reach and far below
beneath the wind and rain and snow
tiny plants begin to grow
he may be cruel but here's the thing
winter's soul is the breath of spring

Bird on a winter fence
all frozen feet and frosted wing
scans the sky and wonders why
crows don't fly south till spring

Early morning tea
Sleepy hands on a china bowl
Peace in the garden

Ash
falls soft
upon the name of love
the game of love
the eternal flame of love
which cools until
through burning embers
one remembers after all
how sweet it was to fall

Speak scarlet secrets
A million sweet vermilions
Whispered in the dark

Words have no walls
except for those enclosures we build to keep them in
some are hollow
splendid fruit containing wasps within
others fill with meaning
fattened ears of corn
they are mysterious
invisible as the wind
with the power to destroy
or to fill our sails
if we find ourselves becalmed
words can be everythings
or nothings
without ears to hear
or grace of page
a stage in which to share
they are nought but empty promises
the sound of passing air

A yen is not a thing
it's the wish
to hold the string
of a yellow balloon
you once lost
on a windy day
in the hills
of your mind

Bubble child
a pretty fragile thing
of pinks and blues
and other multicoloured hues
we watched you
with delight
in skipping dancing floating flight
the wind changed
and we moved on
I turned to look
but you were gone

There is a time
for hoping
for praying if you wish
for watching and for waiting
but when that time has passed
there comes a time for bitter realisation
a time to stop the clock
a crying time
and a time to say goodbye