Set free to roam in foam
a windblown mane
follow the herd
come all come chasing
rolling racing
kick up sand
water horse
reclaim the land

A creepy entertainment
made out of melted goo
never trust a waxwork
just who is watching who!

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

Behaving like an 'Animal'

Means you have descended

To acts so vile and human-like

A chimp would be offended!

Time is water

An endless flooding tide

Which regulates our lives

It has no form

No shape

Beyond the ones that we give it

All are streams in a river

Which flows to a sea

When oceans dry

And weeks and months are gone

Time will carry on

Fling wide the curtains
kettle on and set the table
open the door in welcome
spring is just around the corner
she apologises for being late
winter kept her talking

Zéphyr soft upon my cheek
caress my face with spring
dance with me
wash me with rain
bring warmth
and swell the grain
oh fortunate wind
blown from the West
of all the breezes
I like you the best

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

When the mind lies fallow
do not weep
or think all birds have flown
from bitter dying earth
where nothing grows or ever shall
calm yourself
your barren land is merely sleeping
thoughts like seeds must wait
and feel the warmth of spring before they flower
they will come again
to drink the light and taste the air
green shoots
from roots you never knew were there

A whisper you heard

A spoken word

It has the power

To change your life

It may be untrue

But think of the damage

A word can do

what work is this
who spoke with warm and loving breath
to charm the birds and wake the trees
who stirred the breeze
on bleak and barren land
who turned a skilled and knowing hand
to thaw the frosty frozen ground
who cast the springtime all around
and caused the sleeping plants to grow
who's work is this
I do not know

Why do we do it
tear a fragile piece
of inner self
a printed page
and hang it raw
for public crows to peck and gnaw
blowing dry for all the world to see
what need have we
but still we strive to write
to search our foggy tired brains
and sift the ashes that remain
to lay them bare
upon the hearth and stone
to carry on
and give a little blood and bone
with every word we make our own!

Pale she sleeps beneath the trees
unaware of rain
or any passing breeze
the silent girl with willow in her hair
no longer cares

Willow,
I will make my bed with you tonight
sleep soft and deep beneath your counterpane
no soothing water song, will ease my cares,
for I have none to ease
sing me no sweet tune,
no lullaby beneath the trees
for I am not a child,
a man full grown am I
traveller of the road,
by choice to make home
beneath a starlit sky

Willow hair
sky reflected
Narcissus introspected
floats lissom in the pool

An old violin
Is seasoned with tears
Hundreds of years
Of playing out loud
Pleasing the crowd
Have soaked right on in
Something strange
In the range
Of an old Violin
It's a reality
They form personality
Their own unique sound
Which can only be found
On that set of strings
And the music gets wings
Beauty and death
Laughter and sin
Are the notes that you play
On an old violin

Winter you sneaking thief
explain yourself
you stole the sun
to leave us with much colder days
depriving us of warming rays
replacing skies of white and blue
with others of a greyer hue
a world of ice
what did you do
I know the catalyst was you

Winter's song
is high and sharp
a razor cutting deep
everything it touches sleeps
yet out of reach and far below
beneath the wind and rain and snow
tiny plants begin to grow
he may be cruel but here's the thing
winter's soul is the breath of spring

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

Farewell Autumn Lord
All hail the pale Winter King
Let his rule begin

Frosty winter pond
Water glass obscured by snow
Fish dance in private

Winter's lonely Queen enthroned
endures the long dog days
minded only by her North wind steward
a morose and moaning fellow
of harsh voice and even fiercer countenance
he sings no gentle airs to soothe
no lullabies or music made to please
but rages full blast around her chamber
battering each wall and rattling the locks
until he has exhausted all his fury
only while he slumbers
can she dress in white
don her many jewels of ice
and dance with the sun
who comes to cheer her up, but cannot stay
she knows his love is dangerous
but she cannot keep away

Faint breath flutters the curtains
in the pale green room named spring, we wait
certain that it will be tonight
still he hangs, a torn fingernail
catching sharp on the threads of the season
each wheeze falters, weaker than the last
he rallies and falls,
each stuttering fail
leaves us poised and frozen
still as rabbits on open ground
waiting, waiting waiting
for the sweet and silent sound
of winter’s passing

Turn back the clocks
Countless ears who heard the restless call of spring
Will never dance to winters tune
The hands of time are stilled
For them the clock has stopped
On this year
And all others
This dying year
Has become a year of dying

Melting sun
flows
red to gold
blushing gushing pink
on crimson purpled crows
no leafy waving trees
or clouds of white
to tame its spare and radiant glory
winter sunrise
tells a very different story

Flowers on winter wood, don't mind the dark and brave the stinging cold

they flourish as the frost takes hold

winter flowers know full well the joy they bring

is twice as much as blossoms born in spring

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

That mournful longing feeling
so sweet and yet so sad
wistful for a something
you probably never had

Where my feet have not trod
no earthly trace of foot or shoe
has marked this sleepy lawn still wet with dew
no early birds peck breakfast at their ease
no gossiping wind to whisper through the trees
a day with all its mysteries
still to tease

Toughened glass

Women like me

Still around

You just can't see

We pick up names

As we go through life

Daughter Mother Sister Wife

Our role is often mapped and clear

Then we get to fifty and disappear

We want to shout I'm over here

We're not glam, we're not glum

Just somebody's mum

A little bit shopworn

But we did our bit

We brought up the kids

Took a whole load of sh*t

So please don't ignore us

We matter too

Just you wait till it happens to you

And it will!

The early garden
brings a deeper peace
than any I have known
no sound but wind on leaves
no neighbours barking dog,
for even he must sleep,
his daily yappings not begun
new air, fresh and clean
whispers soft among the green
a drowsy yawning background hum
a space to sip one’s tea
and taste the morning yet to come

Wool gathering

Not writing

Fear has taken my words

A lone and hungry wolf

Hiding in the fold of my mind

I cannot think

My thoughts drift

Like smoke through a window

Out into the air and the light

Where I dare not follow

You cannot waste a word
it is made from breath
released as an airy nothing
an elusive shy and singing bird
that only lands
once it is seen or heard

Word butterflies
free on the wind
they escaped my head
while I was sleeping
the window in my mind
it seems
was open

Walk to the edge
where words lie unspoken
silent and broken
on the rocks of the sea of you
if you cannot fish for words
how can you feed yourself
when you hunger for more
along this lonely and uncertain shore

I see you wriggling
little word-fish  
trying to get away  
behave now
jump in my writer's net  
don't worry, I won't eat you  
just borrow you for a bit  
as bait for bigger things  
stay still
let me fix you to my story hook  
I need to capture a reader

Advice not taken, words not heeded

The sharing of wisdom

Not wanted or needed

Now I am older and I know

Seeds on poor ground

Take some time to grow

The world is insane

It was always so

Now we know about it

We infect each other

With our instant madness

Clever children found the matches

We can all watch the burning!

We have to deal with the emotion
and the fear we have built up in over a year
of being inside
the internal wrecking ball we try to hide
from our nearest and our dearest
when on zoom
as we try to pretend that they are in the room
so now we get to meet in the sun
and to have a little fun, from a distance
at the insistance of the men in grey
who are supposed to be leading the way
back to reality and some form of normality
will we make it this time
climb up and out
lose the doubt and the lack of trust
I guess we must
learn to smile
but it might take a while

I never thought I was the only one

A single ripple among a thousand more

Breaking the surface of the ocean

Not the brightest star to grace the sky

Where millions try to shine

I never thought I was the only one

But I had no idea that there were quite so many fish

Swimming in a crowded pool of words!

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

Yearning

When soul fire

Longs to be free

Heart and Bone

Ache

But the words don't come

And beauty is stilled

A dry garden

Dust in the wind

A living thing

empty

With the promise

Of rain

Tomorrow

Waking early
breathing full the yellow summer air
to drink the quiet and take it to my bones
just me alone, with all the trees and calling birds
no other sound was ever heard, except the breeze
that rushing soulful little tease
who stirs the streams and shakes the grass
where hungry warming rabbits pass
to scratch and stretch and start their day
with hymns of questing honey bees
that drone above the meadow flowers,
and work away the dawning hours

A yen is not a thing
it's the wish
to hold the string
of a yellow balloon
you once lost
on a windy day
in the hills
of your mind