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

The rain
when it came
was not unexpected
soft at first
then larger drops
falling music
dancing puddles
ignored in a rush of passers by
I stayed to the end
and heard it all
that orchestra of sky

Tennis racket
lost along with your skis
like falling leaves
blown into the cupboard
they stayed for 90 years
waiting for Anthony to finish the game
but he never came

Fronds of Auburn hair
Frame you as a sunflower
Floating in moonlight

Blend me a colour
In waterproof mascara
Shades of missing you

Butterscotch sunset
Fades our walls to caramel
Sweet hummingbird light

Sleep peacefully now
A sinking sun paints the walls
Cancer drinks the light

You covered me
with a carpet of flowers
clean and bright
pink and white
fragrance light
on the summer air
fine words were said
many tears were shed
but you keep your guns
and I’m still dead

Spring grass to pierce my bones
Moss will stitch my winding sheet
Sweet death of winter

How many missing sons and daughters
buried with tears and a folded cloth
dead pride of a nation
how many banners raised in triumph
lowered to half mast by the grieving
in the name of patriotism's flag
a highly dangerous piece of rag

Take the mother night
Wrap her in glorious dawn
To birth a new day

Sweet undercover night
silence has wrapped the world
in a velvet bag
so soft and heavy
it drinks the light
and makes a cocktail
of the moon and stars

The definition of a maniac
someone who shares
the same locked wardrobe of dark thoughts
that you do
but they found the key
tried them on for size
and wear them to dance in the streets

Oh Vincent
if only you had known
the world would one day marvel
at your sunflowers
and those waving fields of grain
you left us
but they will remain
a part of you
the beating heart of you
the art of you
for your success was unforeseen
you left us
with what might have been

Some cold black coffee
A biscuit on the carpet
Death lets himself out

Grief is an empty place
a dark and silent painful space
with the hardest plastic chair
you wait until a flicker of light
shines under a door
you never knew was there

Frosty morning air
Winter's white haired terrier
Nips at your fingers

Hey gun lobbyists
Another load of children
Just surrendered

Draw down the waning moon
****** the gentle light of fading stars
take not their shine
to be extinguished one by one
I love you
let this night be never done

We are floating leaves
Children of the winds and tide
Following the stream

You can try to capture the wind
trap the airy whistle of trees
or the fluting song of reeds on the river
yes you can try to tame the restless spirit of the breeze
but it will sulk
and sit silent in the jar
until you let it out again

Winter’s lonely queen
grieving for her summer king
a lover long gone
he left his clothes
an Autumn coat of crimson velvet
lined with orange and a dozen other hues
without his light it faded to a duller forest brown
and she was left with shreds and tatters in her hands
that seamstress spring will come in time
and weave a cloak of gentle forest green
to see him though the coming year

Spend an early hour on the shore
sit for a while
talk if it helps to calm your fears
tell the wind
let iron sand and rushing water be your listening ears
for only they can hear

The sock undid me
just a little thing
soft and yellow and drowning in a puddle
I suppose it fell off when the soldiers came
and they ran for it
I wonder where the other one is
perhaps it is clinging to a tiny wriggling foot somewhere
I hope so

You will not halt the rushing wind
restless seas will turn their tides no matter what you do
rain will fall & wet the land to make it green
leaves will drop at turn of year
you can stop a ticking clock
but you cannot stop time

Poppies after rain
Waving scarlet petticoats
A garden can-can

To be a poet
Is not to burn the paper with your words
but to be heard
when drifting smoke of love and life is gone
the poet in us carries on
when ink and page and pen are embers
it is the beauty one remembers

Furrow face, deep ruts
savage cuts that only time and years can plough
fertile grain
once waving yellow in your fields
does not remain
chaff blown brittle on the winter wind
will settle now and then on barren land
sadly turned to sand

I don't want to come back
once I leave don't revive me
I'm finished and done with being alive me
you just know when it's your time go
so take off the wire
my choice to decide where & when I expire

Scarlet cinnabar
wanton reds and ***** you pinks
Vermilion is a libertine
a go it alone chancer
who lives free and to hell with the consequence
condemn him if you will
for he is already ******
The devil has his own team colours

Tend to the soul of me
that means the whole of me
feed my mind my heart my head
nourish the part that doesn’t need bread
water me with love, watch me grow
a person will flower before you know

Pansexual
love the person not their gender
surrender to love in huge amounts
because that’s what counts

Petrified people
are often alone
they build themselves a heart of stone
it stops the hurt getting in
and the love getting out

A wolf has come to eat the sun
the Gods supplied us only one
with jaws that tear and teeth that bite
he stops to drink our fading light
eclipse the world, pour out the soul
you nibble, can't you eat it whole?

Bottled words boiled down
Haiku pan bubbles over
Leaving the meaning

Faded sunset clouds
Waiting moon and infant stars
A subtle blending

Wine of forgiveness
Needs some time to sit and breathe
Before you drink it!

Sleepy blue ocean
Hiding in a cowrie shell
I heard her snoring

The ghosts of old loves
Live again in memory
Casting deep shadows

Freedom
a gift that is seldom free
freedom to say I just want to be me
freedom of thought
freedom of expression
freedom from any kind of oppression
freedom to say you can all go to hell
because blood puts the polish on the liberty bell!

I will walk barefoot and bow my head
along the winding path that leads me through the trees
to where the nightingale sings
her notes so pure and so beautiful
that you have to follow
yes I will walk barefoot
leaving as I came in
crossing the boundary
that leaning picket fence
which marks the end of all journeys
to what lies beyond
leaving only my footprints
and the echo of a bird

My name is Martha and I'm very tired
my patience as such has long expired
so you don't want my brown skin next to your white
well madam I'm tired so I'm sitting tight
it's hot and I waited my turn in the queue
and I paid, just like him, just like her, just like you
you can carp, you can moan, you can cause all kinds of fuss
but lady I'm keeping my seat on this bus
because I'm tired

I need no sword
for I can pierce your armour with my tongue
wit and clever words can bring you sobbing to your knees
they have bite, feel their sting
oh yes, and they will cut you down in a heartbeat
to shred and tear at your pomposity
I need no sword

Walk a mile
with the wind on your face
between the land and the sky
the sand and the water
tread the lonely margins
the frayed cuffs
where worlds meet and end
listen to the cries of wading birds
and wet your tired feet
let the waves heal you
and wash against your senses
this beach is yours
if only in your head

When I am gone
think of me often
for I will be a butterfly free soul
a forever spirit of the air and wind
dancing among the flowers
in endless summer

My alarm this morning
came by virtue of the birds
who long before the sun had set the sky alight
had shed the quiet wings of night
and very early came to sing
with news of what the day would bring

Mysterious night
Soft and heavy with promise
A velvet hammer!