Dylan boy,
lord of all the sleeping towns
the valleys and the mean little houses,
master of the flowering words,
like best bitter they flowed
dark and ripe and full to the top of the glass,
well worth the waiting for you were,
if the masses couldn’t see it
then they too were blind as moles,
you finished up your pint
and left us, empty

Dreams die

Stars that fade

In our personal heaven

Leaving only the memory

Of tomorrows

And what might have been

Winter sleeps both cold and deep,
while spring is a madcap scramble,
summer sings and jogs along,
but fall is a definite amble,
dropping hints of cooler times
with every leaf and bramble

Your head is the shed

Where the memories live

It's not right

That this thief in the night

Slowly takes you

And un-makes you

Until there is just

The rust

Dusty marks on the shelf

That once contained

Your sense of self!

My sly and stalking beast

Which jumps and catches unawares

Grey light from within

A candle dimmed

Hidden from the world

Exhausted heart

Of half remembered dawns

******* slowly

On the fog

That is myself

I cannot feel

Until I cut

And bleed myself  

A path of living words

To follow to the light

To read a book,
is a sharp descent,
and a swim in the author's vanity,
to write one,
takes a different skill,
I think it's called insanity

Design me a coat for the seasons
remember as you sew
to add vents in the sleeves
filled with crisp Autumn leaves
and to let Springtime breezes blow
why not add a long Summer
as that is in style this year
please try to shorten the Winter
it is looking a bit severe

The craft of seeing

What could be

Creating

And making  

A possibility

Clothe me in watery waves all greens and blues
let clinging sands become my shoes
come salt wind that hails from the West
******* far away from my desk

If your vocabulary is small
you can grow it like a plant in a ***
day by day water it with words
one at a time until it blooms
into dictionary flowers

Down along the motorway
pathos flowers grow
a tiny piece of nature
putting on a show
watch the diesel daisies
dancing in a row
among the shredded leavings
of the M1 contraflow

Poem potatoes,
I cannot dig them out
or present them at table
for the admiration of my greedy fellows,
the soil of me is raw just now
word tubers withered and sour
wrinkled old men faces survey me
with their squinted many sprouted eyes
and defy me to do better,
or produce a mealy crop of no particular flavour
a bitter harvest,
best to leave things fallow then
rest my growing ground
and see what fills the bucket next time round

Each and every place we look,
it's not the dying light which smokes upon the pyre,
but truth, and plain reality
opposed to that which we desire,
we cannot trust if all we know is doubt
and certainty is cast upon the fire

Open a book
discover a landscape
waiting for you explore
your map is made from footsteps
where the writer walked before

A blessed wine

Which stains  the richest lips

Plump fruit to kiss

To taste

To sip

In search of love divine

I don't want to come back
once I leave don't revive me
I'm finished and done with being alive me
you just know when it's your time go
so take off the wire
my choice to decide where & when I expire

A poet finds no joy in errant words,
those misbehaving dogs  
which will not come to heel,
how can they delight us  
they may turn round and bite us

Do I love you,
more than gentle earth or sky
or rain or cooling winds that blow
air to breathe or wine to sip
daffodils and trees in spring
a thousand other poets things
I do not know if this is true
I only know that I love you

Do not cry for those who have gone
Make a better world for those who are to come.
Do not put your faith in shadows of the past
Step into the light and let them see you shine
Do not curse the broken time in which we live
Race both hands to mend the clock
Do not be scared of the future
Let the future be afraid instead
You have the power to change it
If you will but try

Walk with me in Autumn
do not tread soft upon the leaves
enjoy and stamp and feel them crumble
kick them as they swirl and tumble
a carnival of mellow red and orange yellows swiftly gone
its coloured caravans will soon be moving on

Don't put me in a corner
or back me in tight
it's probably the only time that I will stand and fight
If you leave me little option
here's what I'm gonna do
I'll leap out of my corner
and bite a chunk off you!

The dove of my dreams has flown
out through the window of day
to the place where she roosts
high in the rafters of my head
sometimes she will turn pigeon
and bring me confusing ****** stuff
but mostly she brings peace
sleep well little dream dove
I hope to see you later

Fast falls the rain,
cold upon the summer of my expectations,
and yet, I do not feel it wet upon my skin,
it puts a damper on my aspirations,
the earth is dry, my sense of drowning lies within

We flew for a while
and shared the same sky
with modest results
but we gave it a try

Fiery molten reds and flaming pink to make the birds weep in the trees

emerald greens and lapis blue to shame the sky,  so bright that we could never hope to see them with the human eye

Dragonflies are coloured with wonder

a small dragonfly
skims the lazy afternoon
blue on white lillies

Three hundred million years
to them we are nothing
mere children
a whisper on the breeze
echoes of a song, that started long ago
it has no lyric, for it is older than words
the sound of sky and water
tall green trees and waving grass
they sang it to the dinosaurs
when the world was new
in turn, our time will pass
as all things do
but they will carry on
unchanging and unconcerned
humming the tune
of their endless dragonfly summer

A large black cat you never owned but once admired because you thought you should

Just to be polite

You follow it and watch it run through an open door and find a house you knew

But not

Because the house is in a place you never lived, and waiting for you inside

Is a weird girl from long long ago, from school

You haven't given her much thought in over thirty years

Although she lived next door the Richardsons or was it the Taylors and once worked in the chemist where your dad got his pills

Before he moved to the coast

You never liked her

She tagged along and always wanted to be your friend

Perhaps this dream is in her head

Not yours!

Where on earth did you come from
what on earth have you seen
so many things have happened
since you were young and green
flowing seas have washed you
smooth on a foreign shore
what places did you visit
when will you see some more

Never flush
not tight fitting
a little bit out
not quite sitting
right with the world,
I always was an odd bit of knitting,
two plain stitches instead of purled

Winter's burning sun
fell into the dark water
I could not catch it

A tide of doubt has swept my words

And covered them with sand

A cold and lonely beach

In some forgotten land

There is a thread that binds

And winds its way through living things

Connecting all

That live upon this ball

We are all dust.

Mere chaff blown on the hot winds of an African summer long ago,
when the world was fresh and humanity still sailed on clouds of air we soared above the baking earth and knew the freedom of the stars, not tethered to the ground in bonds of flesh and bone.

Dust we were and dust we will become again, in the end it's all the same.

Just dust!

Summer half over
Dusty feet in worn sandals
Show my ten brown toes

Dying sky
painted beautiful
the Gods would weep
if indeed there were Gods to see
the molten tips of living trees
and mountains pink
reflected in a coral sea
what a mistake to blink and miss
a glorious sunset
such as this

Easter already
this year has slithered down the drain of time
where it will hide until Christmas
and have its babies

I will walk barefoot and bow my head
along the winding path that leads me through the trees
to where the nightingale sings
her notes so pure and so beautiful
that you have to follow
yes I will walk barefoot
leaving as I came in
crossing the boundary
that leaning picket fence
which marks the end of all journeys
to what lies beyond
leaving only my footprints
and the echo of a bird

A wolf has come to eat the sun
the Gods supplied us only one
with jaws that tear and teeth that bite
he stops to drink our fading light
eclipse the world, pour out the soul
you nibble, can't you eat it whole?

In a garden

Long ago

The power of words

Began to grow
  
Words can twist

And they can charm

A serpent sting

Creating harm

Words have power

A Surgeons knife

To wound

And scar

And blight a life
  
Words will travel

Lightening fast

They jump the world

And they will last
  
A  word of hate

Let free to roam

Will wander very far

From home

Words can bring us beauty too

To gives us back a summers hue

Or paint the world an icy blue

In that garden long ago

The power of words

Began to grow

That serpent's coils unwound

It's true

But there must have been

A poet too

Watching from the edge
You can view eternity
Closer than you think

In time I will become a beach
an hourglass of falling sand
when eighty tides have washed my face
my youth will be a foreign land
and the laughing girl that once I knew
will be waving from the distance
across that sea that joins us two