Today is just a day
like many others I have seen
the sky is blue the grass is green and yet I find
so many other things are brought to mind
a rushing waterfall beside me puddles at my feet
which charms me as its waving ribbons meet to cool the air
of scented summer trees their fragrance rich and rare
a perfume way beyond compare to many other places I have been
and yet today is just a day like many others I have seen

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

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

Summer's lady  
green she taps  
soft on the window
sweet meadow grass  
not yet turned to hay
draw me out then
lead me astray
scatter my good intentions
I will work another day

We are all seeds
tiny grains of sand
lost on a desert wind
or so I understand,
on a hot afternoon
under a clear african sky
we blew into existence
God alone knows why

Speak scarlet secrets
A million sweet vermilions
Whispered in the dark

Oil on the water

Gentle spilling colours

Tumbled greens and inky blues

Fade to yellow and pinky hues

Filling the puddle

A requiem for rainbows

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

The artwork a face
a mirror the frame
no portrait the same

This night take me
fold me
shake me
fashion me a coat
a costume of stars
let me fly
let me be
let me finally be free
this night is not ours
it is mine
the headiest of wine
that you could never know
now say goodbye
and let me go

Faith is a fruit tree
stripped bare of leaves and blossom
waiting for the spring

Paradise is a free flying bird
with feathers to trim a hat
made especially for you

A candle breaks our dark

a spark to chase the shadows to their several corners

who can say where it lies

somewhere inside

every life has a glow

of what, we don't quite know

but it shines all the same

a tiny flame

radiant as the moon

or the stars that hang forever floating in celestial night

that little flickering light

Oh wind
ill tempered and contrary thing
you drag the peaceful sea  
by the scruff of its watery neck
harrying the sleeping waves  
to rise and fall
crashing at your beck and call
yet when we want to sail
or dry our clothes
you don't appear at all

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 lonliest people
push away arms that care
they kick at gifts of comfort
as if the lonliness itself were a grey woollen blanket
wrapped tight around themselves
protection against feeling anything at all
except lonliness
because that would make the blanket fall
and leave them cold
naked in the light
and vulnerable
to vicious attacks of kindness

Blow rough wind
set the sea to howling
as a barking cur
foam flecked muzzle
wave whipped fur
a dog let free
at your command
shredding promontory land
chewing on that spit of stone
wearing down its chalky bone

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

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

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

Winter sleeps both cold and deep,
while spring is a madcap scramble,
summer sings and jogs along,
but fall is a definite amble,
dropping hints of cooler times
with every leaf and bramble

Ducks are the quacking sunshine of a noisy day

geese are moonlight in flight

silent graceful sailors of the clouds

they go where the wind takes them,

free spirits of the air.

Do not talk to me
or claim a previous affection
we had nothing but a tenuous connection
do not press for friendship in my name
I do not wish the bond or seek to find the same
so leave me in the same state as you came
now get you gone
forget
move on

That great blue ocean dog
bites and snaps and roars around my feet
eyes fixed upon my grassy throat
yet resolute I stand
resilient coastal land
above the ever shifting sand
while that relentless cur
which howls and moans
chews slowly on its chalky bone

A walk
to ponder the nature of it all
sea and sky,
the tumbling waves which fall
gulls that call on outstretched wings
none of these are separate things

Opinion is the fuel
that lights the paper
beneath the words
that set the world alight

Thistledown light

Released and surfing the breeze

Up into a cloudless sky painted memory blue

Dandelion puffs

These are the fairies

At the bottom of a suburban child's garden

Curious clever beings us
blessed with the gift of reason
an ability to sit and think
and that is what has brought us
to the very brink
our talent for deduction
and logical construction
may ultimately sow
the seeds of our destruction

Bramble jelly
blackberry wine
fruit of the hedgerow
tastes just fine
gloves and a bucket
take a stick
I will lift you
grab it quick
home for teatime
happiness lingers
on purple lips
and crimson fingers

bone dry air crackles
raising dust in midday heat
soon the rain will come

Bird on a winter fence
all frozen feet and frosted wing
scans the sky and wonders why
crows don't fly south till spring

To be a poet
is to recognise words
as knotted strings
they come twisted
coiled into bundles
which must be undone
with questing fingers
so that naked language sticks
waiting fresh and in the raw
to be joyously unraveled
that's what poetry is for

Take the long road
walk in the woods
feel the grace of trees
consider each winding turn
bees hum
plainsong in the heather
drowsy as the passing day
do not wave
make the final corner
close your eyes
and rest

Chinese harbour junk
sold me a boat load of dreams
then it sailed away

To live a life unscathed
is not to live at all
the nature of existence
means learning how to fall
how can you know what's out there
if you never jump off the wall

February is a song of wind and rain

The sleeping giant of spring

Is not yet awoke.

February is the watchman

Silent and grey

Waiting for the smoke

Of green shoots and new life

To creep under the door

There is no goal
nothing to follow
no beacon for life
no beating pulse
no footsteps
no end in view
freefall children
this is what we do
leaves on the wind
tossed and blown
creatures of chance
of fate and circumstance
we dance along the wire
until we expire

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

Here on the roof of the world

Fog curls

Obscuring the land below

No glow of lights to drain the sky

The air is thin and sharp

Broken glass with every breath

Damp and clear

Crisp as night falls

We watch the stars

Lost in silent wonder

Clothe me in watery waves all greens and blues
let clinging sands become my shoes
come salt wind that hails from the West
******* far away from my desk

A blessed wine

Which stains  the richest lips

Plump fruit to kiss

To taste

To sip

In search of love divine

Easter already
this year has slithered down the drain of time
where it will hide until Christmas
and have its babies

Mercurial girl
ethereal in her way
and as such she could not stay
to grace our listening ears for long
she left us with the fragments of her songs
and when the wind blew strong
she could not stand against the gale
that light so bright she held inside began to fail

Weary soulful sound
The chime of a city clock
Nick heard it calling

I feel its living breath
close now
scented soft upon my shoulder
shivers the breeze
every lamb,
every flower,
every blossoming tree
I do not walk through spring
it walks through me