Let the flowers grow where they grow
Empty hands are still good hands
There's nothing to reach out for
Or hold on to or push away
No splinters or cuts to worry about
Breaks are healed, scars faded
There's nothing to touch or feel
Nothing to count
No one to wave to
No hand to hold,
And it was all right there
In the palm of my hand
This life
There for the taking
There for the receiving
There for the giving,
I let it slip through my fingers
But empty hands are still good hands.

There should be a word count
After all we only get so many chances,
So many prayers in every life.
Only God knows all those I did and didn't use.
Poor words, they never get any credit,
We can't even decide on
A universal language for them.

They should build monuments,
In Honour Of Unread Words.
Still, who would visit?
Instead we have shopping lists
Stuck to the wheels of supermarket trolleys.

Abused, misused, misspelt
Misunderstood, misquoted
If they put in a complaint, who would read it?
Take the most overused ones, those usually said
years too soon; 'I love you.'
And that one always said a few minutes too late; 'Sorry.'
Words must be exhausted and confused.
It's obvious to them what the next one should be, but not to us.
We stare at a blank page
Expecting them to pop out.
They would if we would let them.
Poets make it worse.
Their luminous portal is my door.
Still art thrives on confusion.

But words can easily get their own back,
Our reasons and excuses look silly
When we re-read them
And our attempts to make ourselves look good,
Are fake.

When you left I gave up on everything except you.

Don't let them tell you
That you are good
If they start to say it
Put your fingers in your ears
And sing Dixie as loud as you can.
Good is worse than *******
It's commonplace
It's ten a penny
It's entry level for any writing
Or anything artistic.
Good relegates you to a life
Of expectation and frustration
Because you will probably
Never achieve what you want to.
So you'll need to be a super talent
Maybe one in a million
To really get somewhere
And if you are I imagine
You'll need two things,
To work hard, very hard
And to try to keep
It all together
Which I'm guessing
Might be the hardest part,
It must be unnerving
When you realise you can
Fly up ladders
While everyone around you
Keeps sliding down snakes.
Oh, and good luck.

One minute we are playing
Quite happily
On swings and slides
And roundabouts
Then suddenly we find ourselves
On The Thunder Mountain Railroad
Stuck in The Haunted Mansion
And trudging up Space Mountain
And The Twilight Zone
Tower of Terror.
I don't remember signing up for
Expedition Everest,
But I must have done,
At birth,
And The Top Thrill Dragster
The Swarm and Racer.
So I was wondering
Has it all just been
One long ride
Or has everything in my life
Led me here
To this moment?

You are always looking
Slightly away from me
So I only get to see
One side of your face
As you gaze out of the window
Or peer into the mirror.
But reading your poems
I wonder how you even
Have time to write them
Why you are not swept up
Every day to a safe and wondrous kingdom
By the very brush
That painted the universe.
And though we will never meet
And I will never get to see you
From another angle,
Face to face,
It's easy to have feelings
For that side of you.

I saw you twice today!
I swear on my grave I did.
The first time
I called out your name,
The one before you changed it,
But you were just out
Of earshot
And later I almost touched your arm.
So close!
It's a shame, we could
Have gone down by the river,
Done a bit of shopping,
Bought you some new hair colourant,
Maybe gone back to my place.
I know!
"In my dreams!"
Oh yes I definitely saw you
As well as any trick of the light
Would let me.

Lying in bed
Listening to the rain
Lying in the gutter feeling the pain.
And there is the love
We feel for the drunk
Lurching towards us
With a broken bottle,
Love not pity.
And the love we feel
For the snake in the grass
About to ruin our  picnic,
And for the stranger who
Pushes in front of us
Then coughs in our face,
And for the bodies
We borrowed,
Ours and theirs,
When they start to fade,
And for someone who
Steals our love
Then won't give it back,
And for the speeding driver who kills our best friend.
Love not forgiveness.
And there is the easy love
When we love someone
And they are loving us back.

Me and my sandwich
Are going driving today
Just the two of us
Getting away from it all
Up into the hills
For a bit of cheese meditation.
It's on the passenger seat
Looking depressed.
Cheer up I say
It might never happen.
It's not like there is a virus sweeping the planet killing thousands.
It's not like they have another ten lined up until everyone in the free world is dead or subjugated. That's conspiracy *******.
It's not like they are trying to destabilize the world and make it vulnerable for a nuclear attack. The sandwich still looks glum. It might be looking out of the window. It's hard to tell.
I mean on any given day 150,000 people die around the world anyway. And that's a good day. There have always been wars, poverty and disease. It's the way it's supposed to be. There are more people dead than alive. We are the survivors. It's not like people can't see doctors or operations are being cancelled is it? Its not like people are losing their jobs and going homeless. Or we can't go on holiday or see loved ones and if you do it's not like you can't touch them.
Nothing I say will cheer the sandwich up.
Finally it gets a word in.
I'm depressed because
You're just about to eat me, it says.
No I'm not, I say.

We had to run
To the nearest tree
Holding hands
For the first time
Instinctively clutching
Each other's in case
One of us slipped,
Because you brought
The rain with you.

In my room
Our first kiss
The lonely minutes
Cried out for the
Reassurances of eternity.
When you slept
I stayed awake
It felt like
You were healing me
I had found my source,
Because you brought
The night with you.

In the morning
We started our lives together,
I thank you
For all those days
We shared .
And I will try to imagine
How you look now
Wonder again if you
Have someone else,
Because you brought
The years with you.

I was the wind
That never blew the leaf
That never fell
From the tree
That never grew.
I was the rain
Before there were clouds.
I was a marking on a rock
Before anyone could draw or write.
I was the sunset
Before anyone could see.
I was a kiss
Before there were lips.
I was a whisper
When people could only shout.
I was the second
Before the first second.
I was the love
That was fashioned
From nothing
That came and went
Back to nothing.
I am the next breath
I will never need.
I am dead
To my love
Even worse
To her I never existed.

I wrote you
Something
Hoping you would find it
On the bark of a tree
In a forest
Somewhere.

I shouted out
Something
Hoping you would hear it
Amongst the crows and seagulls
In a field or at a beach
Somewhere.

I painted you
Something
Hoping you would see my colour
In a rainbow
In a troubled sky
Somewhere.

I cried for
Something
Hoping you would see my tears
In a waterfall
In a river
Somewhere.

And if you did
You could do the same.
Maybe we are communicating
On a different level already.

I had expected to be woken
By canons and church bells
And brass bands and people
Lining the streets
Waving the Union Jack and climbing
On each others shoulders
To get a better view
Of the victorious homecoming troops
And shouting 'Let me take your rifle son,
You won't be needing that anymore'.
But instead a kind of eerie silence pervades -
A bit like any other Bank Holiday really.

So, bemused I wander into town
Along with the other stragglers
Solitary shell shocked forlorn figures,
Some wearing medals
Who like me had somehow become left behind
And missed the best of the fighting.
Nor do the decorations inspire patriotic fervour,
Half a mile of bunting
And a scattering of flags
Hanging listlessly in the morning drizzle,
And the odd poster advertising fireworks tonight
All live ammunition having been descretely confiscated.

In one shop as if to draw attention
Away from their opening
There is a school project, a mock up
Of the Blitz
While others, not wishing to prosper from war
Have remained closed.
A handful of old soldiers are huddled
Around the memorial, in muted thanksgiving.
They place wreaths, salute and hug each other
And I feel if only I could hear what they were saying
Then I would really know.

But on TV celebrations are gathering pace.
Numerous authentic black and white films
And to stirring renditions of the Dam Busters
A parade for those who knew victims and survivors
Who wipe away tears and stare into no man's land,
And later beaming presenters will reunite
Sons and daughters of airmen missing
And presumed dead seventy five years ago
With their families, who in turn
Will be introduced to the grandchildren of their captors
Who have become best of friends
And who now regularly go fishing together.

Not for us the delights of Venice
A tan on the Med or being seen on the piste,
Our holiday was passed down to us by elders
Who religiously planned for two weeks of heaven at least
When the whole street decended
Like so many aliens
Who on reaching the earth's atmosphere
Forgot they were supposed to **** and pillage
And just went plain silly,
In caravans and huge tents you said
A congregation of days running together
Whose shimmering horizons, like great moats
Protected, edified, were ready to sweep away
Invading thoughts of ever returning to that hum drum existence
Of that make believe life forever ended.

Sadly we never achieved such heights
Ours were snatched days, hastily arranged nights
When we gambled on the weather
Opted for more familiar sights,
And there it is, just as you had left it
The sandcastle with tiny flagged turrets
And shells, handpicked, embroidered
On to walls packed tight
Enough to repel the advancing tide
The merciless frothy blackness, creeping all night
Over our lost childhood and innocence.

Even those stolen moments are not on offer any more
Leaving me hundreds of miles from shore
With the bucket and ***** you both forgot
And plenty of time to reflect
On what could have been
But if I ***** up my eyes really tightly
I can just make out two small figures
Playing like children
On the beach
In the sun.

Do we ever recover
From the shame
Of that first essay
Thrown back,
Covered in red ink
With comments like,
'Spelling mistakes galore,
Writing unintelligible,
Question misunderstood,
Could have done better,
Should have been more?'

Or held up in class
For everyone to see
Read aloud
To a background
Of sniggering relief
As an example of how
Not to do it
And then, 'If this is
Your best, it beggars belief.'

They say some mistakes
Are accepted
Even invited as part
Of the process,
But going back
To when we first met
It seems so many
Have gone uncorrected
That you cannot forgive
Or forget.

I may as well be in love
With a ghost
With a body chalked out
On the kitchen floor.
Are you the delicate draught
On my cheek
When the window is closed?
Is it you skimming the cups and plates
Across the room?
Are you the sound of rustling leaves
When there is no tree in sight?
Do you slam a door
In the middle of the night
When I know they are all locked?
Are you moving that single cloud
Across the sky
Or is it doing it
All by itself?

Enough already!
We need less poems
At this time
And more prayers,
Or are they
The same thing?

Seventy per cent
Of the earth is love
All there is
Is all there ever was.
The love that falls on us
Once fell on the dinosaurs.
Love precipitates
Intercepts
Infiltrates
And percolates.
Yours evaporated.

I can fly for starters
Bet you can't do that?
I'm not talking about
Around the garden
Try 800 miles a day.
What else? Oh yes
I can sleep with
One eye open
So, I can choose
Which side of my brain
Stays awake.
Try sneaking up
On me
You've got no chance.
And grit and sand
Don't try this at home
But I can eat them
Good for the digestion
Actually.
Mating is no problem
We just hook up
Every season
Saves a lot of
Aggravation.
And what about socks?
Don't need them
Even in the ice
And snow
My feet can't feel
The cold.
Infact I never
Have wardrobe malfunctions.
Just keep your coat
On all the time
I do, let's face it
Green, red, blue
And white
Go with most things.
Gets a bit greasy
But I can live with that.
Well I've probably
Only got another
Couple of good years
Left in me
But hey-**
It's all water
Off a duck's back.

They are louder these days
More insistent
Increasingly desperate
Three sirens heading
Into the city.
Must be the virus!
What are people dropping
Dead in the street now?
Did they close the centre off
Just after I'd walked
Through it?
And then oh joy
As the fire engines,
Not ambulances
Screech around the corner.
Better to burn to death quickly.

She looks amazing
Probably eighteen
But one of those
When she is sixty
She will still look
Eighteen or twenty
Natural beauty
Hair, makeup
No not makeup
No need
The contours
Of her face
Produce their
Own shades
And shadows
Especially
When she smiles
And no tattoos
She is happy
With the body
God gave her.
And she couldn't
Walk if she tried
She glides
As if someone
Is moving
The scenery
Around her
It's all perfect
Until she opens
Her mouth
To speak
To a friend
' F*  me!
What time
Do you call this?'

In my world
There is no need for
Sorry for myself
Cheer me up
Nobody understands me
Miss me before it's too late
Heartbroken
Heartbreaking
Obsessive
Obsessing
Poetry.
In my world
Love doesn't get
Washed down
The sink
With the dishwater,
But it's not my world.

It's all about the eyes now
The ayes have it.
Zorro mumblings and pardons won't cut it
Sparkling, crystal clear eyes
Are the way to go
They'll never be misread,
Watch out for fluttering eyelashes
They are really exclamation marks
We need a new language
Of love
Look into my eyes
What am I thinking?
Oh you're good!
But also I'm giving town
A miss today -
It's full of bank robbers
And gangsters.

I eye death nervously
Choose a life sentence instead
A padded room, windows
Without bars make it harder
To jump.
I listen to my heart
And sometimes hear
Another's beating
That's it
I only dreamt you
I was always alone.

I see a flashing white hearse
A cavalcade of mourners
Unable to keep up.
Strangers setting down
Their shopping
To give little cheers
As if there is no separation
And death was a celebration
Of life
Could be celebrated
In life,
And in the space
We make for it
Another comes.

I smile so I am happy.

He chose you
Over everyone else in the world
He doted on your every thought
Every word and breath
He missed you
More than life itself
Felt sick to the stomach
That horrible emptiness
In the pit of it
When he couldn't see you
He was unable to eat or sleep
Was looking in bad shape
Until you scooped him up
And healed him
With a smile and a touch
As you did me,
I have given way
To a better man,
That's how I see it.

The tennis courts
Where we once played through the laughter
Lie unloved and netless in the morning drizzle,
And the already faded white lines
Are mostly smudged and covered in moss,
Winning and losing would be impossible
Even if you were here.

The bandstand watches me as I ease under the willow
And cross the manicured lawn
Where I find an old soggy ball
And as if  you had called me to do it
I throw it back.

Rain, empty, soft, feathered
Leaves roundabouts dangerous
Speeds up slides
Falls unnoticed on a duck's back
Unmeasured in the lake,
But renders the wooden bridge deceptively slippery
And if I should fall from view
It would not raise a murmur or a ripple.

From the damp dark recesses
Of cloistered bookshops
Into the blinking glare
And thronging crowds,
We are all unfocused
And unrecognised except
For our reflections
In shop windows.

Down newly cobbled streets
Walking at your speed now
Whistle, guitar and violin
Offer original renditions
To down and outs and drunks
Who dance where they slept
But quickly if you want
To hear some real music
For the Incas are in town.

Wheelchairs and children
Are politely ushered to the front
Gathering around
Standing next to me;
Until the shouting and screaming starts
His shots indiscriminate
Knocking me over.

If it had been a full moon
We might have made it
Would have been easier
To stay on the path
Easier to avoid the clouds
Trying to sweep us up.
Wind and rain don't help
The horses are tired
Jittery too
I tell them they are only
Eyes in the trees
They can't hurt you.
The old barn is as good
A place as any,
I'm sorry I can't get you home before morning,
You tell me I haven't let you down
Sometimes all that is left to do
Is to take shelter.

It was a day made for drying
And for sailing away.
A balmy intoxicating breeze
Swept in off the sea
Turning the heads of old sailors
And taking the sails of towels
Which billowed, swayed and pulsed
And mesmerized by the tribal rhythm
Danced themselves into a frenzy
Of desire and passion.
So I hung out the rest of the washing
You left draped about
In your hurry to leave
And sailed after you.

Reaching the island I lay low until nightfall
Then climbed to the cliff top
Where I found you unguarded
But still bound by the ropes
That must have stopped you embracing me.
So I cut them and led you down
Through the moonlight and stars and spray
A silent getaway, I had hoped for
But you called out for help
To the pirate who had captured your heart -
Just as he did on the last wash day.

When there is a lull in the fighting
And the dead have been buried
And the cries of the wounded have died down
The survivors rush off to the hairdressers.

It has always been this way
And always will,
History demands it.
Weak minded, downtrodden, ungrateful
Foolish slaves and peasants
We are all that and more
To our emotions.
But while enough strength remains
To raise a hand
We will fight back
Even at the risk of losing everything
The little we have
We will fight back - we must
For no-one should stand
In another's shadow.

Washed up on the beach
By the tide that consumed us both
Alive, barely
But I cannot revive her love
I will never see through her eyes again
Or hear her speak my name
It is up to another now
To carry her to dry ground.

So I will walk away
And keep walking
And not worry that I can't feel the sand
Or hear the waves
And I will not look round
Even though I am desperate
To run back
And hug her
And shake his hand.

From the moment we are born
The lottery begins.
We are all given a set number,
Of days that is
And we never know
When ours is up,
Luckily.

I've thrown away my crutches
Though I'm still limping
And my tablets
Though I'm still in pain
And my books
Though there is so much to know
And my pictures
Though I can still the faces clearly
And her keepsakes
Though I can still feel her love.
So here I am God
Decks are cleared
I'm ready to live or die,
You tell me.

After all this time
You wouldn't love me now anyway
I've put on a few years
And a few pounds
And I've got a spot,
This time it would have to be
Our souls coming together
If you did
If you could.

Child: Mommy what was the pandemic like?
Mom: Not nice ... Not nice at all.
Child: But it went on so long.
Mom: Of course we didn't realize it was going to last
Fourteen years.
Child: How did you ...
Mom: Get through it? Well you know
What people say...
Child: A stitch in time saves nine?
Mom: Well ...
Child: If you can't say anything nice
Don't say anything at all.
Mom: That helps, but ...
Child: I know, live one day at a time?
Mom: That's it.
Child: So, the same as we live now.

I could sit here for ever
Watch it all pass by me
In the fantasy of time.
Other lives unfolding around me
Bring a sense of peace
A feeling of relief
That their happiness will never
Depend on mine.

I have returned to the Roman road
Where you chased after me
With your fantasy of love,
Hoping I might find you again
In that alternative dimension
Where reality skewed off
Into different tenses
And where we have prospered ever since
On a completely different course
Before the fantasy of life
Turned our love into mere senses.

This morning it matters slightly less
If we part unkissed
(In the end it was all remarkably unspectacular)
Or love's empty hand goes unmissed
(I needn't have worried)
For a siren soon reminds others
(There was no conscious decision)
That this is not heaven
(There was no great awakening)
As I turn the corner
(No dawning of truth)
And fail to dodge the ring road cars
(No sudden realization)
I simply ran out of time.

Beneath a dead
Red sky
I climb to the hilltop
To a place of still memories,
And there you are
Defiant and calm
Waiting to be rebuilt
For one last crusade.
Gone now the pageantry
Of armour gleaming
Of banners unfurled,
People laughing and cheering
And young girls screaming.
A merry dance
You led me then
So let me linger awhile
In the ruins.

On a summer evening such as this
It matters not if we win,
If our best shot misses,
For there is still life in old strings
And hope in grain so true,
Before the light has gone
Let us play on
And forget all we knew.

Forget those two sharing solitude,
Those who dreamt it all
Who know now less
Expect no more,
Remember instead brave shots
Conjured from nothing
Snatched from thin air
Leaps and bounds
And outstretched hands
To save us from despair.

So now I play on bended knee
Sending one last ball back to you,
In earnest hope, beyond desire
You send it back to me.

The bridge on the Severn
Stands still, hushed
Dutifully guarding
What tries to be a holiday.
Swans, congregating
Delicately preening
Unconcerned by the longboat
Making deliberate progress
It's passengers all wearing
A Captains hat,
Heads turned towards
The Cathedral
And just for them
Nine bells announce the hour.
Ladies, brightly dressed
Carrying large cake boxes
Lead a gentle procession
To the fete.
Bikes, two at a time
Unhurried pedalling,
Weaving their way
Around promenade trees
And grandparents with children
Always stopping to hurl
Stale bread at unsuspecting ducks.
But imperceptibly
Insidiously, remorslessly
The unholy din of traffic
Gathers strength
Drowning out all who dare
To shout out against it ...
And normality returns.

Now all has been said and done
We are still talking,
Ours is a desperate kind of love.
We know every day
Is our last chance to be together
Before bitterness wipes away
Whole years.
Anxious to show each other
The other point of view
The different perspective
Where everything makes sense.
The usual emotions played out,
How quickly lines become rehearsed
Resentment, hurt, guilt
Over and over again
The same old ground
All the world over.
But still we keep talking
Anxious to show each other
Our desperate kind of love.

I'm falling in love with you all over again
And there's not a thing you can do to stop me,
Because you're thousands of miles away!

True to life
True to form
We find ourselves on the stage
Of our own making.
No extras here
No stand ins
No one shouting cut,
No chance of faking
Forgotten lines
Loveless words
Spoken in haste.

A moment before I was drifting
Shipwrecked and sailless
Clamouring for a sip of cool fresh water,
The reassurance of your love.
But here there was a silence
As complete and sacred as any pilgrim
Could wish for.
Here there was a promise of treasure
Beyond my wildest dreams,
Not gaudy baubles hurriedly discarded
By lurching pirates, their escape route foiled,
But something lasting, as yet unmapped.
How easily I turn from friends calling
Pointing to safe pathways over the cliff,
And suddenly I'm in the bear's cave
Unable to make any sense of the shadows,
Peering through cobwebs which cling
Like my fear, and walls silently moving
Closing in on my last few breaths.
At last I stumble gasping into the sunlight
And collapse exhausted on the warm grass
Just lying there until a gentle breeze
Stirs me, fills me with a new sense
Of gratitude and peace,
So that when you called me to your bed
I was loathe to leave the safety of this,
My own love.

Today I answered the call
For more commitment, more passion
And everything I did came off.

Today the wing belonged to me
I had it all, I really flew.
I was the danger man, the hot shot
Whose courage and vision
Rallied a late victory.

Trouble though when I arrived home
Full of it and still trying to score
As all of my best moves were ruled offside.
When I appealed I was warned, no more
And answering back resulted in a sending off
To the spare room
Where I was eventually given what for.

Now I have stopped walking
All movement is carried on the wind.
Was I so consumed?
Could I not see my tattered clothes
Have felt my blistered feet?
Why did it take so long to find this place
To reclaim my space?
Where I stand is all I know
I am here
I have arrived.

Sorry if I appear distant sometimes
It's because from up here
Where I am spinning too high
It isn't always easy to find somewhere safe
To crash land, close to you.

A flurry of birds
Greets the eerie silence;
****** canvas and a stiller you.
The heralding snow
Changes all my plans
For the road is lost
And we must make our way, gingerly
Down the old footpath.

So bring in the lambs
And shut up the shop
But not before we have bought the last loaf;
Wrestling with oversize coats
And from beneath floppy hats
We stumble on with sheepish grins,
And look, there's our neighbour.

Always too late for Christmas
But never for the children
This is the day they have waited for,
So just for once
The tax man can wait
For his ill gotten gains;
Let the snowball fight commence!