Design me a coat for the seasons
remember as you sew
to add vents in the sleeves
filled with crisp Autumn leaves
and to let Springtime breezes blow
why not add a long Summer
as that is in style this year
please try to shorten the Winter
it is looking a bit severe

Immunity from prosecution
does not give you absolution

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

Smooth

Sometimes round

Sound as a pound

A chamber for nesting

For sitting and resting

Awaiting the call

An egg has it all

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

The waving wheat in Picot’s field
is burned to yellow sand,
a harvest tide of buttered rain
salutes the combine’s hand,
one last defiant gesture
before the cut and fall,
bowing at the reaper,
who comes to scythe us all

Soul flame

Flickering  life

A gentle burning

Smouldering until the end

When the light fades

A tiny glow

Then out

Leaving only smoke

And the essence of memories

Oh, sea of tranquility,
we came, but we could not swim,
so we claimed you with a flag
and put a towel down for the race,
then we left our grubby footprints
across your perfect face

To see the stars fall , and have them melt as falling rain upon your face

the drowned sorrows of another day, run and leave no trace, upon your damp and salted skin

they leave their scars writ large upon the beating heart within

A day escaped,
released from the sticky womb of night
held firm in the arms of midwife morning
listen to its infant cries,
the wails of a newborn child unfed
demanding of your bed and sleepy scant attention,
it matters not that you turn your back and try to block your ears
to tears of open-window traffic rage
and screaming gulls that dance on bins with shoes of lead
invade your head and work themselves within
to violate your peace with a surgeons skill,
phone alarm vibrating shrill and shaking
leaking decibels that penetrate each waking fibre of your skin
you know you must begin, attend that fractious babe
fill its hungry mouth to stop the bawling
lured as ever by the bathroom light
Thursday screams, and you her faithful moth come crawling

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

The sound of busy wings in flight
sweet song in mellow April light
carried on an early breeze
which shakes the limbs of new leaved trees,
pleasure after winter’s sting
a simple yet essential thing
we could not start the season
without the birds in spring

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

I liked the way sounds jumped into place

Gained their own pace

Made a poetry space

All their own

An exclusive zone

Where words, like flocks of birds

Made patterns in the sky

I used to wonder why

They only danced for me

And nobody could see

Grief is a sea

A lonely place

First comes the shock

That slap in the face

It tells your brain

You can't take the pace

Leave the pain for a while

Drop out of the race

Sit on the side

Watch the world go by

Numb and chilled

Too stunned to cry

It will be too much

When Reality hits

Let's take it slow

Face the news in bits!

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

Spring tide
deep and wide
sweeping clean
the beach where winter once was seen

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

Today is jade,
cloudy,
with a chance of tears

Savage birth

A flaming child

Of fire

And light

Fills the dark

Drowns the night

The Universe is set alight

I have walked the bitter road

Where tangled briar romps

It is a place for dying

The twisted path for twisted thought

Minds bent out of shape beneath hanging branches

A narrow lonely place, built for one to travel

Uneven ground beneath unsteady feet

Landing is hard, rising harder still

Some fall, some follow the sign to lighter daysWhen you leave the bitter road

A little dry earth will cling to your feet

Because It never leaves you

A borrowed  knife without a blade

The sharpest sting

Slices deep and plunges in

Down through mango stone and bone

Soft beneath the outer skin

Reveals the running juice within!

Milford Sound,
how can I hope to chain you
contain you with a word,
captured like a beetle on a card
for other souls to marvel and to see,
that’s patently absurd
how could pen or brush or eye
portray the loveliness of thee

Stones in my pockets
weigh me down
and roll like eggs while I wade in the blue
further than I thought my nerve would ever hold
chill creeps a frosty band around my chest
feet no longer touching sand
hands two waving fish among the ****
gulls as they cry pay little heed
I am beyond them now, those earthly things
Ophelia has her water wings

The crown of thoughts that once did sit upon my weary head
is gone, fading gently into the distance
only the impression remains
vague marks of what I used to be
the other much more consequential me

Someone let her out
She slipped away
and never quite came back
although she had a key
each time she went I used to find
she left a bit of me behind

What is left is a badly knitted gift
A thing unravelled
Full of holes is what you get to see
The tattered remnants of the shrinking woman that was me!

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!

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!

Music is a joy
more pure in every fluted ringing note
than we could ever hope to find
forgetting all our own desire
on ever soaring wings of smoke and fire
it leaves the petty cares of man behind
and reaches out for something higher

Creatures of the mind

Searching for freedom

In  the misty space between dreams

They don't hunt

They farm

Sewing fear

Harvesting panic

Do not fret the climbing shadows on your wall

There are darker shadows in your head

And they are real

Close the curtain
stem the night
feel uncertain
light the light

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

My sly and stalking beast

Which jumps and catches unawares

Grey light from within

A candle dimmed

Hidden from the world

Exhausted heart

Of half remembered dawns

******* slowly

On the fog

That is myself

I cannot feel

Until I cut

And bleed myself  

A path of living words

To follow to the light

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

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

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

Stem the tide,
hold the gates a little longer,
I do not want to be taken at the flood,
my carcass,
swollen with tears and rain
will become a ship,
the fat canoe that once I sailed
adrift, abandoned by her crew,
a jolly little craft,
flecks of paint disguise the hulk beneath,
who will haul me in
some fisherman perhaps,
complete with tangled hook and waving line
claiming salvage rights on what was  me,
or will I wander, bobbing wild
through the marsh and onwards to the sea.

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

When you go
go gentle,
do not slam the door
slip quiet from the world without a sound,
no harsh and bitter aloe words
leave them unsaid
that time has passed
you cannot make amends
this is where it ends,
so go with grace
still your quarrelsome tongue and heart
depart

Wood pigeon, wren and linnet call
chaffinch, greenfinch, welcome all
dine with me, come pull up a seat
sing soft on the fountain, watch me eat
drink from a day that is near to ending
all fierce promise dulled and blending

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

The craft of seeing

What could be

Creating

And making  

A possibility

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

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