I was a cutting
the empty shell
of what was always meant to flower
my somewhat withered roots
those tangled thorny barbs
were beaten,
crushed to powder
by the grinding heels
which pound life's highway
yet come the spring of middle age
I claimed the time anew,
and flourished strong
no longer swamped by rain
which fell upon my dusty head
it washed me from the drain
where life had placed my weary self
I found rebirth in lost but still familiar tracks
and a writer grew between the pavement cracks

Cool in the shadows
Tired day rests beneath the trees
Larks give way to owls

Faded sunset clouds
Waiting moon and infant stars
A subtle blending

Count up raindrops or snowflakes or tiny grains of sand,
way too many to hold in your hand
each one unique and perfect in its ubiquity

One life,
one light to shine in our allotted hour
a single strutting chance upon the stage
a single line writ large upon the page,
a chance to love, to live, to give
and what is more,
one entrance and one exit, no encore

Unborn plans to which we aspire
broken daydreams piled ever higher
one day when we finally expire
they end up on our funeral pyre
a few lost hopes to fuel the fire!

Stand you on the cliff of uncertainty
all that is behind is done, what is there to come but air
let courage give you wings, to lift you up from dark despair
for nought is worse than standing still
and wondering on that bare accursed hill

A parcel from my Uncle Jim
could be short or tall or fat or thin
you never knew what lay within.

This one was large the paper thick
I'm sure at first I heard it tick
then it burped or I thought it did
there was something written on the lid.

My mother said we should take care
it could be anything in there
there was this noise, a sort of howl
like turkeys, followed by a growl

Out came streams of purple smoke
that smelled a bit like artichoke
it put out legs in yellow socks
right through the bottom of the box

Mum fetched her old and trusty broom
and then she chased it from the room
down the garden to the shed
then she leaned against the door and said

I'm having words with Uncle Jim
you never know when it comes from him!

We will influence what you try,
listen to us and buy, buy, buy
picture number twelve
will make you cry,
to us you are toothpaste
a pliable extrusion
both a victim and a slave
of social intrusion

People come
they bring mourning flowers
I don't know where the vases are
that was always your job
where did you put them
I cannot find them
not under the sink
or in the shed
they are lost
like you are
and I need them
because flowers are everywhere
and you are not

When I was young

I always wanted to ride on a Unicycle

Quirky

Eccentric

Slightly odd

A bit like me I thought

I never did it

I was too scared

Now I am old

I want to ride on a Unicycle

Quirky

Eccentric

Slightly odd

A bit like me

But braver

I think I'll do it!

A fjord of tears
waters land that now lies fallow
because of the land mines
beneath the soil and the waving flowers
that no-one dares to pick
beyond the wire
where a boot is slowly bleaching
that is the true meaning of a warcry!

Peaceful, I protest against this morning,
grey and wet and dull, not fit for larks
I demand a change
no, I command the sun to shine
rise and get you out of bed
and give us something else instead
I like this not
any decent summer day should start off fine
and then continue hot

On a blue black Monday when my eyes turned red
not a single word was left unsaid
as we left our marriage like an unmade bed
messy and tumbled like we had just woken
filled with things better left unspoken

An ant based society
may lack variety
they work to the beat
of six tiny feet
but they all get to eat
ants don't hold elections
that lead to insurrection
an ant inspired riot
would be extremely quiet

Fall soft you tranquil rain
clean the streets
embrace the light
condemn our cigarette scented night  
send him full in flight to the drain
wash this soiled and gum chewed world
remove a little of the stain

I cheered for the President
and raised my hat to the great man,
he promised prosperity
for all his supporters,
then he started a war,
when the rockets came
they did not know the difference
between me and my neighbour

His headphones fit in ears
that haven’t listened for years
I spend most of my time
looking down at my phone
which is marginally better
than feeling alone
mass communication
has fulled our isolation
once love was a rocket
now we only connect
at the USB socket

Blood within my skin
liver pluck and lights
appendix to beating heart,
every part, wants you
needs you to know
I am ready for us to begin,
it is only my tongue
a restless useless thing
which cannot tell you so

Sea winds throw each care
take each heavy form and toss it in the air like it was light
give me brief respite from all that weighs me down,
send it soaring out of sight beyond my knowing
set my mental laundry blowing, and refresh my head,
far too much is laying in the middle of my bed
and piled upon the floor,
open all my windows, wedge the dusty door
and pin the shutters to the side
dear ocean fling them, sling them from me far and wide

Winter crows
who cling to stalks of freezing  corn,
bathe in better times to come
and drink the glow of summer not yet born

Sweet undercover night
silence has wrapped the world
in a velvet bag
so soft and heavy
it drinks the light
and makes a cocktail
of the moon and stars

Mysterious night
Soft and heavy with promise
A velvet hammer!

On a velvet night,
so silent and heavy
that the breath of life itself seemed an intrusion,
Vincent smiled and bid the world goodbye,
he closed his eyes
and left to join the landscape of his paintings

Oh Vincent
if only you had known
the world would one day marvel
at your sunflowers
and those waving fields of grain
you left us
but they will remain
a part of you
the beating heart of you
the art of you
for your success was unforeseen
you left us
with what might have been

Virginia,
bathed in the misty Ouse
overcoat pockets filled with the hard grey stones of life
dark rocks to match the shadows
of the mountain heaped upon her back
until she could not bear the load
so she swam, and did not leave a forwarding address
or bring a towel and sandwiches for a picnic

Water for ink
stains my toes
biro blue
my ending written
casting words before me
gently bobbing
floating flowers
on the sea of self destruction
curled petals
which read
not yet

To amuse myself
I will dance with the mirror
pas de deux pour un

Hail the vortex
that twisted swirling mass
drawing all to the centre
******* life from what surrounds it
to feed its hungry, needy, greedy, maw,
unstoppable and untamed,
malign, malignant,
universal force of destruction
or shall we call him Mr President

Your rock, the brick,
the stalwart mate you go to when the sky begins to fall,
who gives you tea and sympathy when you make that tearful call?
the questions begs an answer, who holds up the wall?

Wallop, then you hit me with a ten foot pole
love is supposed to be a gentle beautiful thing
not a sock to the jaw or a knuckle sandwich
what did you do to my heart you ******
kicked it into the gutter that's what
then you jumped up and down
and ran me over like a number nine bus
driven by a maniac
ok I give up
hands in the air and waving a white flag
I love you!

Twirl and sidestep

Sidestep twirl

A solemn dance

Over the abyss

Among the tins

And the discount bread

Partners weave

From afar

Marking endless time

In measured silence

A six feet waltz

Of the newly ******

Draw down the waning moon
hold back the gentle light of fading stars
take not their beauty
nor their shine to be extinguished one by one
I love you, let this night be never done

The Ice dogs are howling

Hear them roar

Loose on the wastelands

They mean war

Patrolling at the margins

Looking for an ‘in’

Listen to them calling

Let fighting begin

Scarred of greying muzzle

Torn and rent of ear

They sing throughout the ages

A song of blood and fear

The world will always listen

To their glory tales of  war

We invite them to come calling

As they raise an armoured paw

Then we watch our soldiers falling

As we always have before!

Driftwood hearts
together but apart
no big confrontation
a gentle separation
no rescue boat
we just float
water and sand
getting further from land

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

Not exactly floating
not completely sinking
I have reached a place
where there is no conscious thinking,
it’s a liberation
to be free on the blue and wide
just a piece of driftwood
taken by the tide

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!

Wearied by grey,
hardly awake, but all too soon it comes
early doors,
it taps upon my sheets and bids a leaden sky outside to play
so appear the vague beginnings of another day,
sunrise drags the pavements and obscures the view,
no children yet, no happy chattering faces on the way to school,
no harassed rushing workers wondering what the day will find
the pleasures of a weekend break are scarcely brought to mind
amid the chaos of a busy life,
office stress which stirs up simmering bubbles,
the ever expanding troubles of our daily grind
which start off small and grow to fill our lives
that soup which feeds us, where we try to thrive
but what about the grey,
the newborn day, which hovers underneath a tardy sun
sturdy still and quiet, predictably it lingers,
digging with its fingers through the roots of all our lives
the light will send it hiding,
but be sure that it’s surviving, somewhere
locked inside our heads
Monday light’s revealing, brings a melancholy feeling
and a soon forgotten shadow of existential dread

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

What am I ?
not wind nor rain
nor endless rolling sky,
I am not sea
or green and falling land
not trees nor beach
nor endless shifting sand,
not sun, not moon, not stars
so help me now,
to understand
if am fish or beast,
or calling bird which sings
which part am I
or maybe I am all these things,
as for why I came to be
or when or what or even how
I do not know
but call me nature
just for now