Ice on fire

Burning desire

Of melted heart

And flame

No shame or blame

We  both knew the game

Before we started

And now we have parted

So it didn't last

But we had a blast

All the same

The thin bare bones of a silence that was

Shattered calm, a mirror cracked

Snapped underfoot like a plastic toy

Smashed, a fragile thing destroyed

Beauty broken by a careless word!

Silken spider thread

Cobweb soft

A whispered sigh

Hanging on the breeze

Silent song of hard worked creation

Strung like pearls to catch the morning

Intricate patterns

Each tiny artist works alone

Beauty on the wire

A gallery of infinite variety

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

Lyric ribbon
dancing with words

Show me the beauty, beyond our careworn world
where sighs of woe outnumber gasps of wonder

Show me the beauty, of a winter sky seen from a window
etched in deepest shades of elephant grey

Show me the beauty still to come,
Sleepless dawns above silent shuttered houses

Show me the beauty hidden in plain sight,
A gift for those who dare to reach beyond their walls to see

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!

She’s been gone
for so long
we are different now
much older
and perhaps a little colder inside
because something in all of us died
when she did!

Bittersweet words
drip from your tongue
in a pool of deception
through which we wade
the silent rain of promises made

Words you once read

Voices long dead

A silent sonata

Of sounds in your head

Japanese haiku
Distilled from simplicity
Essence of poet

To seek

The hanging bough

Just out of reach

To try and fail

And try again

To stretch a hand

Beyond the world you know

To pick the apple in the darkness

Take a bite and

Feed the soul’s desire

And then to venture higher

How many pebbles does the jar contain?
Count them one by one, put them back again.

How many pebbles on the beach?
Can never count them all, they are out of reach.

How many pebbles in your hand?
My heart a singing stone, you rescued from the sand.

Music the folder
and holder of sound

Rhythm the binder
that winds it around

Lyrics are papers
where meaning is found

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

Skin needles, made from rain
threaded hope, that stitches pain
peel away the Monday morning
a coffee scented cloudy dawning,
the existential grey clad ******
of a quintessential English summer

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

Larks don't need parks

They need ploughed fields and waving grain

If they are to remain

They soar and sing of joy unbound

But they are rarely found

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

Slap my face cruel wind
press hard upon my cheek
with fingers red and rough as any farmers hand
you bend the struggling trees
and whip the waves to beat the land
is it any wonder
that I fail to understand
how one so gentle in repose
could be so angry when he blows

You face the window
I face the door
back to back
not speaking
hardly touching
no loving arms to say goodnight
no loving lips to greet the morning
the only thing we do together
is sleep

Sunlight bathes the sleeping leaves
in shades of green and gold
this was always winter wood
without your hand to hold
now it fills with music
a bird in every tree
your dappled sunlit kisses
a breath of spring to me

A room full of dark

    Hungry crows of worry peck at sleep

        Morpheus it seems is grounded

Sleep peacefully now
A sinking sun paints the walls
Cancer drinks the light

It's hard to chase the shapes of sleep
those grey elusive foggy sheep
who graze upon the fields of night
they wrap themselves in dreams to hide
while tired eyes stay open wide

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

Slipped over on the ice
she is languid in repose
mourned only by the howling wind
and the wings of flapping crows

If only I had wings to fly
The sky would not hold me
I would be so much more
Than a bird who could swoop and soar, and twist and dive
Alive, at one with spirits of the air
To drop each care
And watch it fall, like silent drifting feathers to the ground
Could there be a peace more sacred and profound

Smooth, the touch of a lovers hand upon your skin
which wakes a beating heart within
it stirs the sparks of bold desire
and fans the flames a little higher

Syrup

drips from your tongue

saffron words, yellow and fragrant, pool at your feet

sweet and clear they charm the birds from the trees

but not the bees

they know real honey!

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

Soft falls the light upon your face
shadowing each trace of sleep
who am I to know or see
the secrets that you keep
we give our minds
to flights of dreams
but only to ourselves it seems

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

Soft falls the light,
not sea nor beach nor seabird wandering sky
it is by nature separate and entirely of itself
edged in sand, a yellow shade of rippled countenance
not exactly day nor coming night
although the evening tide has lately been
it is a colour somewhere in-between

Some people like introspection

And quiet reflection

They don't need connection

To give them direction

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

Do not mourn for me in sombre colours
black and grey was not my way to be
do not drown me in sorrowing hymns
praise me with the tunes of larks
I always loved their spiral song in flight
celebrate the spirit that was me
forget the dark
embrace my light

Fall is theatre

Sondheim of the seasons

One last extravagant show of dazzling firework shades

Daring and carefree, fiesta in scarlet and orange

A deranged Harlequin running riot, dancing with the wind

Raising Cain, a mad finale of colourful conspicuous excess

Refusing to leave the stage or even take a bow

Cool charm stills the orchestra  bringing down the curtain on a  riotous charade

Winter packs away the props and switches off the lights

Party over for another year

Hear my gentle song when the wind blows

The lyrics of faded memory are my words

The score was written long ago

Upon my heart

So let  our music start

A reminder around every breezy corner

In the tops of the trees and the waving branches as they shake their fingers at the moon

Follow the notes as they stir cobwebs spanning windows with hollowed eyes

In the dry space behind faded yellow curtains

Everywhere you tread my tune will follow

You will never be alone I promise

Listen to the band playing in your head if you need company

I will be there for you

Always

I won't forget

You caused my end

On that you can depend

Hear my song

Don't judge us for how long the road has been

Give us credit for the things we might have seen

We may not be quite as young and fit as you

But remember we have seen it done it smoked it drunk it too!

No one wants to see your bubble burst

But honey we were there and did it first

So do your worst x

Long empty spaces
fill with echoes of time passed
deafening silence

Why do we do it?

we who pluck the air

for spare and fleeting words

which do not come

although we call them

to our waiting arms

they do not play the servant

but we call them master

as we seek to turn them to our certain will

they twist us in return

riding on the freedom of their sweated backs

to have them cast us falling

to the pit below

we taste the bitterest wine

of dark despair which fills the foggy air

they will not let us sleep

and keep us trapped and tied

to do their restless bidding in our heads

although we know full well

how words are fickle fleeting things

we cannot help but wait and long for further flight

beneath the shadowed freedom of their ceaseless beating wings

Fate, I do not know your name
remove a star
shake it from the sky
like brightest rain
cover me in a glittered cloth
of night and fire and light
remove the dark
and let me be that spark
which sets the heavens all aflame

Cool winds of winter
blow but soft upon the land
not stronger
let sparks of Autumn
last a little longer
don't huff so hard
they lose their amber apple glow
hold in your icy breath
we do not want to see them go

Clinging spider webs
settle on the frosted tomb
of a loving heart