Winter's yellow hound
snores
bats an ear in sleep
with ancient claws
drool from his gums
pools on his paws
as he yawns
and thaws

Life is a river

Flowing across the landscape

Warm and slow in the shallows

Furious in the depths

Of the torrent that is you

There are mountains to cross

And valleys to flood

High times and dry times

And only sometimes

A waterfall

To send you spiralling downwards in free-fall

Carving the earth

To your own design

There are fields to water

Fertile ground

Setting seed that you carry

Onwards

To grow in another place

While you continue

With the wind and the rain

Listening

To the siren call

When your river

Becomes an ocean

Life, that divine eternal spark
did it really start
as a shot in the endless dark
or were we fated
to be created
neatly planned
by a pencil
in some vast immortal hand!

Your blue eyes
saw only sunflowers
painted smoky shades of living truth
frail petals fallen from your artists hand
lay upon the canvas
when sanity became a foreign land
what we failed to understand
you had a lust for life
it's true
we never saw it eating you

A Heart

Is the start

The part

At the centre of you

It will see you through

From beginning to end

You can always depend

On your little red friend

A drop of rain
parts the fur of a captive tiger
it reminds him of the jungle that he has never seen
but there is a poster he can look at
vaguely he plans a holiday
two weeks in the sun
then he heads indoors to his food bowl
and watches the downpour
through the window