I want to write
to set the literary sky alight
with words, bright birds
that take me with them in their flight
transcending earth to give me sights
and views I never saw before
but I can only watch them soar,
as with other earthbound things
I look up and wish for wings

The yellow balloon that was mine, got away from me

It escaped from my infant hand
waving gently as it sailed

I watched it go and realised that nothing was forever

It took off for for the sky,
with a little bit of innocence attached to the string!

A yellow leaf
caught in the wind
it flutters
as it leaves the tree
try as you might
it won't be caught
I think that's called
ennui

Smiles
hidden behind miles of printed cloth
weddings and the Christmas we called off
people we loved and held dear
everlasting warnings have led to national mourning  
for things that have gone and cannot be replaced
and we have chased the rainbows that appeared
on every window, every door
what was that for
to make us feel one for all, all for one
until we could look up and find the sun
in its proper place
once again
and dodge the pain of the mental rain
which has been falling
washing out dreams
and churning them to soggy dust
most of all we have lost our trust
that sense that everything will all be ok
has upped and melted away
chopped down, chipped up
like the limbs of a tree
and with it our sense of certainty
the shock is profound
because we have found that we stand on much shakier ground
than anyone thought it could possibly be

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

The hammer blow

On your thumb

For a moment it's numb

A lightening flash

The clash of flesh and steel

Suddenly real

White hot rain

Reaches the brain

And converts to pain!

This long day
what will we sip from the hours before us
sweetened wine,
taken from each other’s lips
throw in our weary lot with circumstance
and cast our loving dice until they roll a six
the coming night will end the game
so let us play and burn the candle flame

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

This turning year  
a child of war so newly born,
could we give it a day
to dream its infant dreams,
the simple gift of a little peace
apparently not, or so it seems

In the bungalow of your thoughts
you can sit and fume at the world
while you wrap your soul
in angry net curtains!

Shadows caught
waving curtains
nervous fingers
ever tapping
never still
beyond
and
beyond
and
beyond
the endless glassy spirals
filled with glassy spirals of their own
shattered fractal light
tight and broken pieces
filter
flicker
gutter
fall
in darkness
lie in muted heaps
so die the painted shades of sleep

Water on my mind
Sometimes murky sometimes clear
A pool of thought fish

I want to unplug
sever all connection
I’m long overdue
for a period of reflection,
time to spring clean
dust my mental shelf,
remove all the cobwebs
and try to find myself

Creeping frost

Cold and hard

As charity or jewellers knives

Which melts and quickly turns to flame

The *** that boils

Magnesium hot

Phoenix bright

Cold tears

Sticky with regret

Which sooth and calm

Balm for the soul

Beneath the skin

And healing can begin

Life is the threshold
existence is a windy doorway

Make me thunder tea
brew with leaves of falling rain
use a lightning spoon

Bring me the dusty flour of long hot days
mixed in a saucepan with too little rain
I will bake it in my oven of scorched dry earth
and bring you lightning biscuits
to have with your thunder tea

Do you ever wonder how the world became so *******
who took this little blue ball and shook it so the pieces rattled
did we lose the picture on the box so we don’t know how it looks
we could all try being kinder, which is how it’s meant to be
but the last time someone said that we nailed them to a tree
we currently face extinction and a halt to evolution
perhaps that is the answer and a possible solution
maybe the human race as such is into extra time
I don’t have all the answers
why don’t you complete the rhyme

Wine of forgiveness
Needs some time to sit and breathe
Before you drink it!

A day escaped,
released from the sticky womb of night
held firm in the arms of midwife morning
listen to its infant cries,
the wails of a newborn child unfed
demanding of your bed and sleepy scant attention,
it matters not that you turn your back and try to block your ears
to tears of open-window traffic rage
and screaming gulls that dance on bins with shoes of lead
invade your head and work themselves within
to violate your peace with a surgeons skill,
phone alarm vibrating shrill and shaking
leaking decibels that penetrate each waking fibre of your skin
you know you must begin, attend that fractious babe
fill its hungry mouth to stop the bawling
lured as ever by the bathroom light
Thursday screams, and you her faithful moth come crawling

Almost a year of low level stress
a summer and winter of trying to guess
will it be over, can we progress
the urge to cheer up and get on has expired
not sure about you
but my God I am tired!

Stroll with me under the trees
to where the old road bends,
at the hanging sycamores
then walk away
beyond my sight
for I cannot follow
do not turn back,
you have many miles to go
and new companions to meet
I will wait here, in the shade
tired feet need to rest
visit me now and again
when the leaves fall
but only in memory
walk on

To let our wildest thoughts take flight

On gentle feathered wings of night

To break the bonds of earth and find

We leave our human chains behind

To soar and dip and skim the oceans roar

Released from all we were before

To feel the light and taste the air

Is not a gift that we can share

Still shackled to the ground it seems

We must content ourselves with dreams

Leaving birds to own the sky

While we look up and long to fly

To be a bird
free on the breeze
taking in the charm of trees
to feel the light and taste the air
is not a gift that we can share
shackled to the ground it seems
we must content ourselves with dreams
leaving you to own the sky
while we look up and long to fly

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

To be a poet
Is not to burn the paper with your words
but to be heard
when drifting smoke of love and life is gone
the poet in us carries on
when ink and page and pen are embers
it is the beauty one remembers

Just for today
I have cast off the cares of Winter
and tied them in a cloth of April green
I hid them on my hope shelf
where they cannot be seen

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

A soft warm wall

Keeps reality at bay

When cold winds blow

Wrap yourself away

Stop the breeze on your thoughts

Bringing new ideas

To much comfort contorts

We all need a little pain

A shower of rain

It makes  us reflective

Sweeps out dead leaves

And gives true perspective

Sparse
bronze brown heather
wet and tangled from the rain
beaten smooth
as is the rough ill tempered land
no gentle hand has brushed these clouds
of wind-whipped winter sky
reflected fish skin waves skim white
shallows in blue,
mourning deep among the painted grey
a solemn yet a not unpeaceful day
of drinking moorland streams
which river run
to feed the misty sheep strewn hills
all dappled winter appled green
and on and down through ancient peat
so black and rich and free
to the breeze bent grass at waters edge
which sings of you Lough Fee

The world is all connected

And now we are infected

Years ago it started small

With a phone in the hall

And it grew-who knew?

Through telegraph, telex, fax

They sharpened the axe, and fed the fire

The flames of our destruction

Grew ever higher

And of course we made the plane

Do I need to explain

How miles of copper wire

Has caused us to expire!

If I were to end it,
pull the cord and douse the cabin lights for good,
it would be here at the high bluff
salt tang in my hair blowing free to the lighthouse
the blue blue gem of the sea below
this is what I want, if I should ever choose to go
It does not mean I will
just that I might like it to be so

*Such a Beautiful Place

What do you do when you get to the top?

Do you take a breath and stop and frown

Pause and look at the long way down

Do you wonder how long

You can keep your crown

Before someone else

With their eye on the prize

Starts their climb

And begins to rise

It’s tough at the top

So enjoy the view

Before someone else

Gets up there too

Staking their claim

And removing you!

Good brown earth
cracks and folds and tips and tumbles
rolls and flips and slides and crumbles
moved in space by a tractors churning,
bitter specks of last year’s burning
buried deep in a seasons turning
where once the plough horse trod with grace
heavy feet at a slower pace
there lives a fertile planting space
of furrowed ridges, rips and rows
and the hop and hollow of taunting crows

Love me by candlelight
hide my inhibitions inside your expectations
cover us with a blanket of shadows
when the flame burns low let me go
we need not seek a truth that light may bring
let this be a transitory thing

You can try to capture the wind
trap the airy whistle of trees
or the fluting song of reeds on the river
yes you can try to tame the restless spirit of the breeze
but it will sulk
and sit silent in the jar
until you let it out again

Tread lightly
as you walk through the summer of my dreams,
do not crush the grass
with the weight and banality of your reality
or bring cold facts which fall as rain
to shatter every fragrant bloom,
let me sit in peace,
safe within my flowered room,
I know beyond the wall
the world is calling harsh,
soon enough the gate will open,
but for now the bolt is holding
do not break it down,
or try to climb the fence
let me have my garden
in this place I am content

The night sky was pierced
We watched leaking rain and stars
Wearing a tree hat

Beleaguered by an Autumn breeze
which shakes the tall September trees
to help them shed their coloured clothes
more naked every time it blows
twiggy fingers raised in the air
they dance around like they just don't care

When you go
go gentle,
do not slam the door
slip quiet from the world without a sound,
no harsh and bitter aloe words
leave them unsaid
that time has passed
you cannot make amends
this is where it ends,
so go with grace
still your quarrelsome tongue and heart
depart

The wind outside my window
is a lonely wayward soul
forever seeking company
searching around corners
whipping sand up into drifts
but the beach won’t play today
nor will the dark and boiling sea
or the marram grass, bent down and flat among the dunes
only the gulls with their wheeling cries
will try to hug the wind

Life is a bathtub
stay too long
and you get wrinkles!

Turnstone
Tumbled by the tide, over and over
Washed by rolling waves
Polished by the shifting sand
Dried out by the winter sun
That shiny pebble in your hand