The moon
a silver sixpence
loose in the pocket
of the universe

Peace is an early morning

Dare you break the silence with your footsteps on the grass

Spiders weaving cobwebs case their industry and listen to the nothing, dewdrop heavy

Rabbits out for early breakfast halt their chewing mouths and wait in expectation

Frozen cracking trees still their restless branches for a while and the river runs slow, no trickling streams to signify its presence

Trout swim in the shallows

Gentle watchers of the newborn day

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

Early morning rain
washes any weekend traces
from coffee scented Monday faces

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

Mother

Creator

Giver of life

We cannot do without her

Often she is ignored

Abused

Constantly repairing the damage

Caused by her wayward children

Patiently she endures

Although she is tired

Now and again she will snap

And show us  that we have gone too far

She has been sitting on the nest

For a million years or more

Watching her playful chicks

Become wilful destructive toddlers

Unable to comprehend the damage they cause

She hopes that they will grow

To appreciate her worth

She waits and she waits and she waits...

Take the mother night
Wrap her in glorious dawn
To birth a new day

I wished I could stay in my chrysalis world
folded tight with my wings still curled
so nobody would have to see
the little brown moth
that I knew to be me

Mountains are folded napkins
laid out on the cloth of the world
remnants of a picnic
that finished long ago

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

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

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

I kept them for years
those fingerless stripy gloves
a last little link with my mother
who was a diva with the needles
the yellow strands of wool joining us together
in a beautifully knitted chain
although she is long gone from this world,
I found comfort in them once again today
although many years have passed
and I noticed her hands coming out of my sleeves

My old cat
asleep in the sun
he knows his summer
is almost done

She is the iceberg

That cuts a jagged hole in time

And a jagged hole in you

Scything deep

Carving the past

Leaving you adrift

In a sea of memory

No longer shared

Is the planet a nation?

You tell me

How many raindrops get lost in a sea

A nation is anything you want it to be!

I thought I did

But I don't

Need you

To validate me

I can be

And do

Whatever I like

So take a hike

Get on your bike

Pedal away

It's independence day!

Time is a blink, a tiny ***** of passing sky
reflected in the cast unseeing eye of Neptune's dolphin
lost to a storm millennia ago
a fountain chained to the deck of a wreck
bound for the palace of a forgotten king
proud ruler of some distant land
yet here it lays in watery sand
and waving weaving fishy grass
only the truly ancient know
that all things pass

Lay quiet as if sleeping
tide take you now
sea foam as your comfort
pillowed by the ocean
rest for a head that is weary of dreams
sleep soft my lovely
so pale on the waves
among the shells
and the waving water weeds
safe in Neptune's garden

Sunrise

Flaming birth of day

Flamingo colours

Boiling sky

And newly minted dawn

To pierce the night

With crimson rain

Of burning stars and heaven flame

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!

Take the love that dare not speak its name
reduce your thoughts to memories,
lock them deep
hide them in the silent vault that is your heart
smother the singing bird you want to be
snap its feathered neck, quick smart
smother any signs of life
poor wounded thing,
better it was never born,
if it cannot fly, then it should never be
kinder dead than never, to fledge and leave the tree
smash your heel and end it now,
for it cannot be set free

If you loved me as I love you

The tides would stop their pull and the earth be stilled

All would be in darkness for we two

If you loved me as I love you

Spinning under the universe

Where scattered stars are spilled

Diamonds on black velvet

And my lone heart would be filled

It could be true

If you loved me as I love you!

Art is in the poet not the word
we sing the song
and write the lyrics
to a tune which must be heard

No love
No hope
No freedom
No voice
No future
nothing is the absence of something
and that can mean everything!

The words that slip

Wax

Dripping through your fingers

Lost in form

Melting

Snuffed away

The failing candle of the mind

Leaves only smoke

Bitter and drifting

Fleeting beauty

Hanging possibility

The lingering fragrance of what might have  been

Words have no walls
except for those enclosures we build to keep them in
some are hollow
splendid fruit containing wasps within
others fill with meaning
fattened ears of corn
they are mysterious
invisible as the wind
with the power to destroy
or to fill our sails
if we find ourselves becalmed
words can be everythings
or nothings
without ears to hear
or grace of page
a stage in which to share
they are nought but empty promises
the sound of passing air

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

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

Tread the line between sea and sand
hold the wind, take its hand
let it out
anyway you choose
walk a mile in the ocean's shoes

Oh ocelot sky
spotted clouds of black and gold
filled with stars
the shining eyes
of a cat
among the heavens

October night
a strange light
the face of winter
smiling through a pumpkin

Wrap me in Autumn
warm among the leaves
wind up my colours
take down my flag of living
see it fade to memory
wave it no more
shroud me with October light
think of me as a year
that is slowly dying

An Autumn breeze
is not the flighty winsome tease she was in Spring
she has experience to bring and is more certain
collecting up the fallen leaves
to weave them through October's curtain

An octopus is a cephalopod
they are as a species
delightfully odd
an eight legged squiggle
with a wiggle

Sunday papers and a sit in bed
nothing needs saying that hasn’t been said
we can read the thoughts in each other’s heads
you drink your coffee, and I sip my tea
who ever knew we could ever be
happy not speaking, just you and me

Once afraid
I turned my coat from the world
wore it inside out and hid away
showed the lining dull and grey
I did not want the world to see
that rainbow coloured other me

On days like these

Winter sunrise low on the trees

Bruised dawn of crimson pinks and yellows

silhouettes the waving branches

sharp relief against a cloth of birds

A bedraggled army of tattered hungry souls

clinging to straws in an empty field

feathers moving in the early light

as tinted day takes on the shift from frosted winter night

Our connection
is a pale moon above
and stars that shine
they are yours as much as ever they were mine
we feel the grey of falling rain
the warmth of joy and the chill of pain
we live and we love, we laugh and die
under a yellow sun and the same blue sky

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

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

A sky of painted rain from custard yellow clouds, fell beyond my gallery window glass.

The grass a silken thread of cinnamon fire, vermillion and orange tea brewed strong and hot, which ran to choppy rivers damson plum and vintage flowing wine, stretched far beyond my own imagining
to boiling seas of unknown hue.

Did a morning ever dawn which held such colour and such light, If so it isn’t one I ever knew!

The rain
when it came
was not unexpected
soft at first
then larger drops
falling music
dancing puddles
ignored in a rush of passers by
I stayed to the end
and heard it all
that orchestra of sky

Darling clever Oscar Wilde
that Enfant terrible
a rebellious child
he was pretty
and very witty
and yes he was gay
it's a shame we couldn't accept him that way

When we dream
we take down a book
from the shelf
of ourself

Pick up the brush
although the handle be thorns
and paint with words, or love or tears or rain
paint them all the same
paint your heart or the sky or a thousand other things
paint until the brush is dry and fingers bleed
for you are blessed indeed

Clouded cattle breath
released to this November morning
a rising sun scarce dares to show its face
no fond embrace will grace a leaden sky
no warm & loving arms
to melt the chill on lonely farms and hills
all is still
as smooth & white
as paint upon a windowsill

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