I shall not come this way again,
I cannot hope to travel on the time I borrow
so I shall seize the chances given me today
and cast away the worries of tomorrow

I think I will go to the sea and listen for a while
to the roar of dark ill tempered waves and ravenous black backed gulls , ceaseless circling gods who scan the beach, hopeful in search of any offerings given, trying to outdo the wind with their endless calling

I think I will go to the sea and watch the sky,
the shifting clouds a pencil sketch as yet unfinished,
a symphony of graphite  grey and mellow umber tones,
smoothed beneath some restless artists hand

I think I will go to the sea, to feel the wind on my ears
the sharp sting of blowing sand, frozen skin nettles
as I shrink into my scarf, a futile knitted bastion against such savage elements

I think I will go to the sea, but not today!

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!

What is it makes us take that flight
on wings of fancy, chasing words that keep us up at night
obssessed invaders of our every waking daytime thought
they rule our lives
until at last the writing’s done
we float to earth to rest and sleep
until we start another one

Skylark falling
victim of the wind
waiting in the grain
begin and start your song
ascend across a blue and open sky
fly, as if your tiny heart would break
skim those fields of yellow grass and waving wheat
sing of all those things, which make a bird complete
soar, ignore the dark and waving ocean's roar
play in full your simple sweet and lovely tune
so loved by those of us who went before
speak skylark, use your summer voice
please stay, say you will return once more
encore

Bellbird,
purple cloaked
soaked, in sweetly echoed tones,
these days you are rarely heard
above the din of mobile phones

Bubbles are children

Filled with hope

And lightness of being

Gaily coloured birds that long to be free

If you hold them too tight

They will leave you forever

All you can do is to watch them

As they float around for a while

And wave them goodbye

When the wind blows

A thousand fallen souls

They leave no footprint

Make no sound

Walking silently

On dusty ground

Following the road

That leads to nowhere and beyond

Rough wind on my lips
but no words will stay
I think my poem blew away

What makes a country?


A nation


A state


What seals your fate?


An unbreakable tie


Of course you can lie


Say you come from elsewhere


No one will care


But deep down inside


You know you can't hide


No matter how far


Or how fast


You run


Your tribe


Is inscribed


On your soul


A part of your whole

Those loving words,
the ones that burned my living lips,
have turned to ash upon my tongue,
clinker sharp and bitter cold,
now I see that you wanted to have,
but you didn’t want to hold

The craft of seeing

What could be

Creating

And making  

A possibility

The sky has made her bed with the waves
together they tumble, windward blown
star crossed lovers, never alone

My cathartic heart
threw away the finished leaves of bitter autumn's burning
I brewed myself a loving cup, made sweeter by my learning
tansy, bay with chamomile, bright meadow flowers to sip
tastes better  than the poison to be found upon your lip

That's me in the mirror

Slightly worn

Pages torn

Dropped in the bath

Marked with the inky notes of life

A dog eared copy

Of the girl I used to be

The poet inside me sleeps,
curled up in the nut he rests,
perhaps he has died
and he lies, stiff and cold,
I do not think he is no more,
the occasional snore can be heard
a tumbling phrase or sybillant vowel
escape his lips,
errant ships that pass,
otherwise he lies
a dormant beast, waiting for spring
and the filtered sunshine that his words might bring

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

A pebble in a sea of glass

Shattered mind raindrops

Fragile as cobwebs

Sun strong and shadow deep

Infinite and fleeting

Planet sized in the palm of your hand

Belief is everything

And nothing at all

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

The apple of the mind starts small

A tiny bud without form

Flowering in the spring of our lives

Full of hopeful promise

Blooming

Summer sweet

Red and juicy

Or crunchy and full of bite

Some are windfalls

Cast aside

Before their time

Others become *****

Hidden maggots in the heart

Ripeness gently falls to autumn decay

We wither and we die

Returning to earth when we have cast our seeds

Leaving younger fruit to take our place

On the tree of life

A poet finds no joy in errant words,
those misbehaving dogs  
which will not come to heel,
how can they delight us  
they may turn round and bite us

All power is fleeting, none of it will last
look at the dictators we have buried in the past,
those excutive orders will be shredded and torn
burning in a heap, upon the White House lawn,
America will rise, after you have gone
your name will be a curse, when its soul goes marching on,
images smashed, tinted rubble for foundation
trodden in the mud of a bruised but recovering nation

A house upon my shoulders
with a garden for the mind,
an address the earthly body
could never hope to find

I can feel it,
smell it fragrant on the breeze
watch it in the leaves of broadleaf trees that bend to give me shade
taste it sweet upon my waiting lips
a kiss that comes to me
through every flower and bird and labouring bee,
not in gentle honeyed sips but fresh as new picked mint
every morning clear as day, bright as resting dew at dawn
I hear it whispered through the grass
summer is reborn

There is no schism,
no gulf between the winter, fall, and spring
there is a reason for every season,
each takes the best
then adds to what the others bring

Unwritten lines upon a pristine page
waiting for a hand to bid them speak,
muted wings of tawny hunting owls
swift soft and to feed a midnight beak,
a peal of screaming bells
which have no tongues to sing
is this silence, waiting to be filled
or is a nothing held within these things

A hidden lance of green

To pierce the grip of winter's icy breath

As sharp as kitten claws

Yet delicate as painted window frost

The herald calling softly

Rousing far more mighty forms to wake from sleep

Spring has begun

Go

Leave me no taste

A sample of you would be a waste

If I cannot dine on more

Then what is love for?

Summer’s lease is over,
fall has settled in,
the knuckle bones of winter,
are showing through his skin

Letters in the blood
a hardwired poets brain
built for words not numbers
language flows within each vein

A feather in the wind

dances

and knows nothing of direction

a free flying thing

without the slightest notion

that others find it beautiful

as they watch it skip and dive

gently landing and taking to the air once more

it has no cares

no timely worries

a happy child of the elements

chasing the libertine breeze

little knowing how much we would like to follow

Do you ever wonder how the world became so *******
who took this little blue ball and shook it so the pieces rattled
did we lose the picture on the box so we don’t know how it looks
we could all try being kinder, which is how it’s meant to be
but the last time someone said that we nailed them to a tree
we currently face extinction and a halt to evolution
perhaps that is the answer and a possible solution
maybe the human race as such is into extra time
I don’t have all the answers
why don’t you complete the rhyme

Long empty spaces
fill with echoes of time passed
deafening silence

Butting heads, locking horns
the difficult child of three
if any one was causing grief
It was always going to be me,
a stubborn chip
from a stubborn old block
never at ease we two
so I left and made a life for myself
far from the one you knew,
you pushed too hard
to tie me down
I went and you felt betrayed
you never saw my need to go
I could never see why you stayed

People are rivers
some are deep
some are shallow
some are a little bit twisted
some you definitely don't want to cross
and others are just wet and full of crap!

Birds in flight,
black and white
synchronised motion,
sweeping wings
skim the ocean

We sipped our fill from this years beer
until at last we came to winters snowy dregs
with whetted lips and foam still fresh upon the tongue
knowing that in time spring’s ale will surely come,
for now we mourn the empty ailing year
what once was fine and foaming full is done

The year has turned,
time to plough and plant and sow,
on what seemed dead and lifeless
just a week or two ago
all manner of things have begun to grow,
a spectacle, a carnival, a riotous sight
a free-fall jump to returning light,
the showiest of mummers,
a costumed cavalcade
flowering minstrels
a harlequinade,
life as we should live it,
a wild abandoned dance
nature will lead us if we give her half a chance

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

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

Expectation leads to realisation

You think you climbed the wall

To discover that your pond is very small

Not a big fish after all

Look at any window

lights without blinds

other peoples tables

snatched fragments of their lives

gone in a moment

forgotten

maybe they wonder all about you

in the reflection of your passing car

caught in the tail lights of a memory.

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