There must have been a morning

That followed the first night

A newly minted dawning

And a step into the light

A creature on a hilltop

Noticing the glow

A spark of bright divinity

Happening below

Wide eyes that gazed with wonder

As darkness turned to flame

At Heaven ripped asunder

Did they even have a name?

I wish that I had been there

To bathe in that first light

The sky all dipped in glory

Now that would be a sight

Come visit us sweet rain
fall gentle on my head
do not pound me, dance instead
step you light around my ears
be not heavy with your tears
spread great joy among the flowers
be a good guest,
do not stay for hours

Be more gentle
the glue is not yet set
neither child nor man
but something in between
you are as yet unformed
a wondering restless thing
forever rearranging
the shifting sea
which constant breaks
and beats the rocks
with pounding fists
to make them change
they will not shift
be not angry at a world
which moves too slow
and way too fast for me
be more gentle, wait a while
find the shape you want to be

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

I'm not your stepping stone

a safe and easy ride

to pastures fresh and green

on the other side

why should you stay dry

while I sink with the tide

you want to go that's fine

build a bridge

and then we'll see

but don't you ever tread on me

Mosquito, mosquito
annoying chiquito,
no more flights,
no more bites,
no more bon appetito,
you pushed me too far
for you it's finito

A torrent of rain
flick end of a storm,
we danced to kitchen jazz
safe and dry and warm,
wolves came to listen
more than one or two,
circular howling
maybe they were dancing too

What do you do when you get to the top?

Do you take a breath and stop and frown

Pause and look at the long way down

Do you wonder how long

You can keep your crown

Before someone else

With their eye on the prize

Starts their climb

And begins to rise

It’s tough at the top

So enjoy the view

Before someone else

Gets up there too

Staking their claim

And removing you!

Love me by candlelight
hide my inhibitions inside your expectations
cover us with a blanket of shadows
when the flame burns low let me go
we need not seek a truth that light may bring
let this be a transitory thing

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

Humble greetings all
we rise or fall
upon the swords which are our words
steel of critics teeth to edge the blade,
a thousand stings and stabs
or gentle and much softer blows
which fortune falls upon the writers head
is not for us to tell,
what literary hell awaits
who knows

A time for leaves,
for change,
for sweeping clean and mending,
starting anew
throwing light into long dark corners
shutting doors and closing windows,
summer is gone
she left no forwarding address,
but she took a yellow sun
and the deepest blue of sky,
she packed them in a suitcase
and she never said goodbye

Drink and love and laugh,
talk and cry and eat your fill
do as you will, but be kind
embrace the light unbending,
for we never know when life is ending

Beleaguered by an Autumn breeze
which shakes the tall September trees
to help them shed their coloured clothes
more naked every time it blows
twiggy fingers raised in the air
they dance around like they just don't care

To live life vicariously
is to be a shadow
riding pillion
on someone else's bike

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

The creative mind
is a beast never still
a nervous high strung fish
that swims in a restless sea
forever searching
chasing thought worms
which may not come to be
it needs waves of ideas
to spin it round and round
the ocean of its notions
would dry up on solid #ground

The artistic mind, a fragile fickle beast
one is never sure of its morning temper,
sometimes savage, full of ire and broken glass
spitting **** and vinegar at all who pass
in a world which cannot understand,
the sheer fustration of creation,
at others more content to let things sit a while,
to smile and wait for the muse to rise
it is forever fearful, of losing any inspiration it has gained
worrying it may be forever chained
never allowed to roam,
hoping that it might return
not to spurn the feelings we lay bare
but to give us hope
and then to help us cope
with whatever wild and brooding notion we have hiding there

Spring is ready
underneath each piece of fertile land
the heist is being planned
a plot to steal old winter's icy crown
wrapping it in warmer days to melt it down

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

I cannot paint a sky of blue or verdant leaves of green,
the shapes of plants and flowered heads
are pleasures left unseen,
I cannot draw or sketch in place
a glorious mountain scene,
this path is closed
but I have words
to show where I have been

Sea sound
The music of life
Wild and free
Noisy in it's joyous abandoned moods
A naked dance under the heavens
Unceasing and restless
Ever shifting
Like the sand which follows it
Snaking in it's wake
A yellow puppy anxious to please the moving water

The human mind
can be defined
as a darkened cave
from the warmth of the womb
to the chill of the grave
each thought is carried on flapping wings
by tiny furry flying things
sometimes one will fall from a claw
to grow in the guano that litters the floor
the best ideas start off bat crap crazy!

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

Sunrise on a fat contented morning

Yawning

Melted colours brushed across a waking sky

The place where rainbows come to die

Recycled as a new day dawning

The sun that rises on my dreams

Is frosty cold

Ice fills my head.

Beyond all knowing in my mind

Is the hollow keening wind

Which sings around corners

Seeking out the pavement cracks

It blows my thoughts

And leaves me scattered

Crow picked to the core

A shredded howling

Oh happy Sunday hour
after five and before the tea-time tide
when those who filled the beach
with grubby toddlers, toys and spades
return to roasting hotbox cars
and stow the cool-bag in the boot,
along with salty dogs who want to sleep
creeping under blankets kept especially for them,
farewell they wave,
with lollypop sticky, sun-touched infant hands
a tired last goodbye to the sand
that battlefield land of dug-outs holes and hollows
a ruined castle landscape
that the sea will fix tomorrow

The yellow balloon that was mine, got away from me

It escaped from my infant hand
waving gently as it sailed

I watched it go and realised that nothing was forever

It took off for for the sky,
with a little bit of innocence attached to the string!

Spring it’s great to see you
so glad you came my dear
it hardly seems a moment
since you were here last year,
we’ve had enough of grey skies
slush and wind and snow
if winter keeps you talking
say you have to go

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

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

Best and worst
words with no end
they can only be overtaken
by something else
because the future is a present
under next years tree!

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

Skip little skerry-boat
dance with the sea,
kiss the silver fishies
bring them home to me

Silence after rain
no drip on bending leaves
no sound remains
no faint and whispered breath
nothing to be heard
except the wind
and a sweetly singing bird

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

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!

A parcel from my Uncle Jim
could be short or tall or fat or thin
you never knew what lay within.

This one was large the paper thick
I'm sure at first I heard it tick
then it burped or I thought it did
there was something written on the lid.

My mother said we should take care
it could be anything in there
there was this noise, a sort of howl
like turkeys, followed by a growl

Out came streams of purple smoke
that smelled a bit like artichoke
it put out legs in yellow socks
right through the bottom of the box

Mum fetched her old and trusty broom
and then she chased it from the room
down the garden to the shed
then she leaned against the door and said

I'm having words with Uncle Jim
you never know when it comes from him!

Three hundred million years
to them we are nothing
mere children
a whisper on the breeze
echoes of a song, that started long ago
it has no lyric, for it is older than words
the sound of sky and water
tall green trees and waving grass
they sang it to the dinosaurs
when the world was new
in turn, our time will pass
as all things do
but they will carry on
unchanging and unconcerned
humming the tune
of their endless dragonfly summer

Soft falls the light around your face
which drinks the night
and leaves no trace upon your sleeping form
as you lie curled and safe and warm
who am I to know or see
the secrets that you keep from me
we give our minds to flights of dreams
but keep them to ourselves it seems

So dies the day
In chilly silence with a promise broken
falling night, drinks the light
and pulls the curtains on our words unspoken

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

Dying sky
painted beautiful
the Gods would weep
if indeed there were Gods to see
the molten tips of living trees
and mountains pink
reflected in a coral sea
what a mistake to blink and miss
a glorious sunset
such as this