Happy is a department store
something to look at on every floor
if we know what we are shopping for
but generally we don't, do we?

I won’t cry
well not for too long
perhaps just now and again a tear will fall
you worked hard all of your life
now the work is done
you can rest up a bit
although you will fit it hard to sit still
you always did
perhaps you are a butterfly or a bee
busily checking on your garden
I think you would like that
happy among the flowers
you have not gone from our hearts
whenever I see a garden in full bloom
I will smile
and you will be with me

Twilight is a spark
Saturday's penny candle
Lights Sunday's fire

Cool in the shadows
Tired day rests beneath the trees
Larks give way to owls

Paintbox colours make our world
grey and clinging fog of disbelief
echoed by the indigo of grief
bitter orange wheat of rage
before we finally turn the page
accept the solid yellow ochre of finality
and begin to paint ourselves a new reality

Under darkened skies
Hope is our new horizon
Always up ahead

Midnight is a blade
cutting the cord between tomorrows
Midwife to the newborn day

Ants on a dry leaf
conquerers and pioneers
sailing the puddle

Long empty spaces
fill with echoes of time passed
deafening silence

A fallen idol
is a wounded bird which sings
and tries to fly on paper wings

Frog on a lilly
white flower fragrant and sweet
happy hoppy frog

Wallop, then you hit me with a ten foot pole
love is supposed to be a gentle beautiful thing
not a sock to the jaw or a knuckle sandwich
what did you do to my heart you ******
kicked it into the gutter that's what
then you jumped up and down
and ran me over like a number nine bus
driven by a maniac
ok I give up
hands in the air and waving a white flag
I love you!

Mayfly
all snowy white wings
delicate fragile things
that dance and skim the summer air
hardly there
a second of modernity
to experience eternity
what if a penultimate day in May
to play and love & live
was all you had to give?

Lament the tall sweet meadow grass
where wind no longer blows
lament the lark that’s taken wing
and left us only crows
but you and I endure my love
through rain and wind and sun
for only time can part the ways
when two hearts beat as one

I will wear blue
a subtle gentle hue
but only on the outside
my what I show without side
the blue inside
on my underneath my skin side
is a much darker shade
that will not entirely fade
it's the indigo of empty
call it pain
for the things I have lost
that I thought would remain

A world that is stilled
sparkling water without fizz
trapped in the bottle

The sands of time
crunchy little bits of eternity
will one day grind to dust and scatter in the wind
everything ends, and begins and ends again
a sense of everlasting instability
is the only stable thing we have

A creepy entertainment
made out of melted goo
never trust a waxwork
just who is watching who!

A brainwash seems a good idea
give it a scrub and hang to dry in the breeze
summer fresh and cleaned of ******
let the wind refresh your mind
while you find a comfy chair
to sit and wait for it to air

A fjord of tears
waters land that now lies fallow
because of the land mines
beneath the soil and the waving flowers
that no-one dares to pick
beyond the wire
where a boot is slowly bleaching
that is the true meaning of a warcry!

A thousand scarlet kisses
leaves that fell between our lips
each one sweeter than the last
and longer and deeper
I would swap them all
each plump hanging cherry
just out of reach
to bring you home again

He has drawn me incomplete
one leg and sausage fingers
then he got bored and wandered off to play
I am a stick man
hopping
with only one stick

Bring me the dusty flour of long hot days
mixed in a saucepan with too little rain
I will bake it in my oven of scorched dry earth
and bring you lightning biscuits
to have with your thunder tea

I will never understand
exactly when did a finger on the hand of time uncurl
and wave me on from being a girl

If you long for a life of
sunny skies day after day
you will be disappointed
nothing grows in a desert
settle for a little rain now and then
and someone to share your umbrella

I have a face in the mirror
I know I am there
because I checked
so why do I cut myself
to feel less invisible

In the bungalow of your thoughts
you can sit and fume at the world
while you wrap your soul
in angry net curtains!

Long ago,
when earth was clean and silver bright
an angel fell, compelled by vast eternal might
beyond all time
through endless night so brightly starred
his wings aflame his halo charred
remembering beauty through his tears
to see him through in later years

A shiny halo can work loose
and when it slips
it becomes a noose
your sainthood lasts until the day
the rest of us see your boots of clay!

The price we pay to be free
is all that we have to give
no matter in what cause it is shed
blood in the gutters is always red
buying liberty
is expensive
taking it costs more

Can water know
when it flows and drips like rain
through the palm of your hand
does it understand
and feel for the drops that remain
to linger
on your freezing fingers

She’s been gone
for so long
we are different now
much older
and perhaps a little colder inside
because something in all of us died
when she did!

Paint me the cold of midnight
or dawn in the hills,
mix me the feel of fresh grass
under tired feet
and the smell of rain
on a long and dusty road,
boiling rage
or the sweet sweet joy of relief
blend me a colour
for the things my eyes cannot see

We have to deal with the emotion
and the fear we have built up in over a year
of being inside
the internal wrecking ball we try to hide
from our nearest and our dearest
when on zoom
as we try to pretend that they are in the room
so now we get to meet in the sun
and to have a little fun, from a distance
at the insistance of the men in grey
who are supposed to be leading the way
back to reality and some form of normality
will we make it this time
climb up and out
lose the doubt and the lack of trust
I guess we must
learn to smile
but it might take a while

The poem bird
a stubborn thing
of fickle wings
and shuttered beak
that will not sing
decided he would fly
he left the nest between my ears
and never said goodbye!

Count up raindrops or snowflakes or tiny grains of sand,
way too many to hold in your hand
each one unique and perfect in its ubiquity

Jazz is a free flying bird which sings
you cannot clip its scarlet wings
passion mixed with ice and fire
the burning flame of sweet desire

Find me
feel my pain
mend my soul
make me whole again

Touch me
calm my fears
hold me close
catch my falling tears

Love me
hold my hand
talk to me
try to understand

I don’t know what will heal the world
see the colours of hope unfurled
maybe we should ban all flags
the universal rags
of sovereignty
those emblems of pride
which divide
what part belongs to you or to me
where even the sea is chopped into bits
so it fits very neatly and oh so completely
into tiny bites
with regards to fishing rights
that say where we can sail
you can go to jail
or face a huge fine
for dangling your line
into someone elses pond
we are way too fond of the
walls that were provided
by any empire
who decided
it should all subdivided
so it could take the best
and fling out the rest
like meat to a dog
while they hogged the mineral wealth
that they took by stealth
how proudly they planted their pennant
became the sitting tenant and saw it wave
over the graves of the people they had enslaved
pretend separation of each earthly nation
what is it for?
to stop us going to war?
we can be entirely sure
that wouldn’t work
because it’s happened before
maybe we need a long cold drink
and a post-pandemic think
about what we could do
to improve our sprawling human zoo
and bridge a divide that has become way too wide
it won’t work, it’s political suicide
but consider the millions who have died
did the virus follow orders
or stop at any borders
no, it jumped all the silly dotted lines
that we use to define what is yours from what is mine
and after all if not under one God, we are under one sky
so we could at least give it a try!

Feed the flame
lead don’t follow
show the way
be the candle
that single burning spark
shine a light
into someone else's darkness
and illuminate your own

Freedom smells of coffee, you don’t have to make yourself
or do the washing up after
freedom has a view
that isn’t your garden
freedom is the clattering of cutlery
and plates in a kitchen
that is not your own
freedom is other people
their noise and chatter
freedom is asking them to turn the speaker down
because you want to talk
to a friend that you haven’t seen for ages
without a screen in front of you
or posters saying 'wash your hands. on government advice'
freedom is whatever the hell you want it to be
because it is yours and that is being truly free

To live only in the present
means you battle the storms of today
without a coat or a hat
you cannot plan for future weather
without the rain of the past
experience is an umbrella

Stuck coming down the slide
since lockdown made my *** too wide
when I was bored and trapped inside,
eating home made cake and bread
has caused my lardy bits to spread
I should have munched on fruit instead

Smiles
hidden behind miles of printed cloth
weddings and the Christmas we called off
people we loved and held dear
everlasting warnings have led to national mourning  
for things that have gone and cannot be replaced
and we have chased the rainbows that appeared
on every window, every door
what was that for
to make us feel one for all, all for one
until we could look up and find the sun
in its proper place
once again
and dodge the pain of the mental rain
which has been falling
washing out dreams
and churning them to soggy dust
most of all we have lost our trust
that sense that everything will all be ok
has upped and melted away
chopped down, chipped up
like the limbs of a tree
and with it our sense of certainty
the shock is profound
because we have found that we stand on much shakier ground
than anyone thought it could possibly be

Low tide
the sea has retreated
leaving  behind a keepsake box of **** and shells
spilled out across the beach
hidden watery things
drawn from the deep
they melt as footprints
when the sea returns
gathering her chicks
to rest below the waves
in sandy contemplation
of the world above

Life, that divine eternal spark
did it really start
as a shot in the endless dark
or were we fated
to be created
neatly planned
by a pencil
in some vast immortal hand!

I cannot say is miss you
well not every day
life moved on, and took me with it
carried with the tide
and weathered by waves
you stayed as you were
as you will always be
safe and dry on the shore
but you cannot dip your toes
or dance in the sand as I have done
feel the sun on your back
or the wind against your face
for you the race was too quickly run
all over and done
before it had really begun

I strongly suggest that you put on a vest
and maybe some pants
nobody wants to see
what is dangling from your people tree
I think it would be best
if you got yourself dressed
it's a sensible request
before your arrest!

Why do we do it
tear a fragile piece
of inner self
a printed page
and hang it raw
for public crows to peck and gnaw
blowing dry for all the world to see
what need have we
but still we strive to write
to search our foggy tired brains
and sift the ashes that remain
to lay them bare
upon the hearth and stone
to carry on
and give a little blood and bone
with every word we make our own!