To live life vicariously
is to be a shadow
riding pillion
on someone else's bike

Bobbing
that is what we know,
not controlling the flow
the river turns and off we go
floating or still,
following every curl and rill
every drip,
every rippling shaded shallow
every stately wallowed williow, calm and still
every bump and gravelled hollow
each of us is bound, to follow in its wake
each reflected new direction that we take
is not a vast and empty ocean
or the gentle forward motion of some shimming mirrored lake
it’s a gentle stream of bubbles,
that we have caused to be
bobbing ever on onwards, always looking for the sea

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!

your old winter robe
shaped only by memories
still hangs in my heart

Romeo
you were the East
but there was no sun
for you and Juliet
a drip of light
new sprung
from a talented quill
then darkness
stolen moments
briefly given
then taken
puppets
in the mind of your
creator

Rest in peace you gentle soul
your eyes which saw only truth
gave us the spirit of those who worked the land
a portrait penned with honest colour
painted as it was
and not how we would have it be

The roots of art
are often buried deep in childhood pain
every flower needs a little rain

We don't all have a choice

A selective voice

Some get what they get

No being upset

They are the losers

Others are choosers

They pay to play

And have it their way

They will always win

With another spin

We all have to learn

That an extra turn

Will put you on top

No matter how much

You want the ball to stop

She was always there
Britain's loyal royal friend
Working to the end

Oh happy Sunday hour
after five and before the tea-time tide
when those who filled the beach
with grubby toddlers, toys and spades
return to roasting hotbox cars
and stow the cool-bag in the boot,
along with salty dogs who want to sleep
creeping under blankets kept especially for them,
farewell they wave,
with lollypop sticky, sun-touched infant hands
a tired last goodbye to the sand
that battlefield land of dug-outs holes and hollows
a ruined castle landscape
that the sea will fix tomorrow

Farewell Samhain
Celtic custom to honour the dead
****** for profit and greed instead
drowned in sugar
until all that remains
is a Jack-O-Lantern rotting in rain

Hark to the winds of Autumn
Long dead voices raised in song
Saraband for the living
A choir for the dying
Eternal music of the ******
A fading year
Carried on the breeze

On my kitchen shelf
happy little saucepan birds
nest inside each other

Sunset
a final blush
as evening strokes the land
with butter yellow fingers
on a soft and gentle hand
caressing and *******
and finally confessing
to a scarlet indiscretion
that the day won't understand

A thousand scarlet kisses
leaves that fell between our lips
each one sweeter than the last
and longer and deeper
I would swap them all
each plump hanging cherry
just out of reach
to bring you home again

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

A scurrying wind is a tidy wind
a helpful picker of discarded litter
things that we should have put in the bin
but it has no bag to put them in

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

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

Winter's cotton collar is white
spring wears muslin sprigged in green
summer is floral poplin
and autumn cinnamon bombazine

Today I will hang my winter curtains
thick and soft as a cat's full belly,
December throw your gauntlet
full blast the rain, the wind can roar
they will not step inside my door,
for every sound becomes a purr
when I have donned my seasonal fur

Today I will hang my winter curtains
thick and soft as a cat's full belly,
December throw your gauntlet
full blast the rain, the wind can roar
they will not step inside my door
for every sound becomes a purr
once I have donned my seasonal fur

Sea sound
The music of life
Wild and free
Noisy in it's joyous abandoned moods
A naked dance under the heavens
Unceasing and restless
Ever shifting
Like the sand which follows it
Snaking in it's wake
A yellow puppy anxious to please the moving water

Drifting
on an ebb tide of confusion
which flings me up beach of myself
then rolls me down to the roaring ocean
before I have time to think that I may at last be saved
the dear dear grasp of reality
slippery through my tangled fingers
is lost to the maw of the waves
pitched and tossed in the blue
sky or surf
fish or floating plant
flotsam or jetsom
I do not know
It is a seaweed day

Fall colours
the russet reds and yellow browns
of Summer's faded hand me downs
Autumn is the second sister

You cannot conjure love at will
capture it like rain and drink your fill,
there is no pill to ease the pain and make you whole
no balm to calm the lonely soul,
for love is a seed we need to sow
and lasting flowers take time to grow

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

Tears of the world
a salt tide that floods
feeding the marshes
windswept waiting places
sentinels of the hollow margins
lonely but for the cries of birds
wading the cracks where land meets sky and endless water
at the edge
of something and nothing

September rain  
falling grey on Monday faces
washes out the dusty traces
of August in the air,
coffee mug memories
warm and serene,
muse on the summer it might have been

If you long for a life of
sunny skies day after day
you will be disappointed
nothing grows in a desert
settle for a little rain now and then
and someone to share your umbrella

Seventy two Crows
have come to bid you goodbye
dressed in mourning clothes

Scratch off the surface
of anyone's mind
and you might be surprised
at the picture you find
the one that's behind the smile that you see every day
we all paint our faces but leave little traces
in shades of Dorian Gray

Everyone brought flowers
oh so many pretty flowers
to grieve with me through the hours
and to take the pain away
roses and daffodils in every shade and colour
because they wanted to say something, but they didn’t know what to say!

There’s a long long trail a-winding
to the sound of marching feet
worn smooth by shadowed footsteps
their time on earth complete
although a poignant sad reminding
no one’s listening so it seems
there’s a long long trail a-winding
to the land of broken dreams
where that nightingale keeps singing
because that’s what she is for
to welcome home the fallen
from each successive war

The ghosts of old loves
Live again in memory
Casting deep shadows

Leaders are supposed to inspire

not warm their hands as the flames climb higher

on the nation's funeral pyre!

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