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May 8 · 125
Irish Aer
Irish aer
brings the sweetest rain
from the bluest sky
which fills her streams
of brackish runs and rills
and paints the green
on lush and fond remembered hills
May 7 · 135
How Kind
Spring you called, how kind
I see you’ve settled your wandering mind
you brought a leaf for every tree
and flowers for every buzzing bee
sit a while we’ll have some tea
I made a cake so I hope you’ll stay
if not, can you visit another day
May 3 · 111
My Old Cat
My old cat
asleep in the sun
he knows his summer
is almost done
Bring me no roses,
or sad white lilies
chant me no dirge,
or quiet tunes of deep respect
this is not remembrance
for it was never how I lived
or ever wanted to be
instead, bury me in colour
asters for my winding sheet
yes, daisies for my shroud
a stars and wonders funeral
and sing me out, real loud
May 1 · 79
Poetry Pasta
Poetry is not spaghetti
you cannot herd, strings of complicated words
and hurl them at the page, one by one
to see if they stick, when the poem is done
Apr 30 · 179
Twice Born
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
Apr 29 · 125
I hate tofu
Tofu tofu
it just won’t do
the box is pretty
with its dragon stencil
but it looks and it tastes
like it rubs out pencil
Apr 23 · 360
Portrait
The artwork a face
a mirror the frame
no portrait the same
Apr 19 · 388
Hacked Off
Spring you total ****
what goes with you
you promise much
teasing us with summer’s waiting arms
yet still you flirt with winter
and make us wait to sample all your green and airy charms
it just won’t wash, the rest of us have had about enough
I know you think it’s funny
now come on out and do your proper stuff
Apr 18 · 159
Stilled Pen
A pause for thought in sunlight
observe the flight of bees and busy nesting birds
hear the whispered words of a sighing breeze
smell the green of fragrant singing trees
today I cannot write, no drop of ink will flow
not a single solitary minim scratched across a waiting line
it is a feeling difficult to define, and not as I would have it go
no matter how much I would want it so
spring has stilled my pen
Apr 17 · 449
Belly Full Of Living
Yes I am greedy
for a single tomorrow
no wonderful shining moment
no rivers and rainbows
nor sunrise sunset skies of gold and cotton candy pink
just another day, like many others I have seen
a belly full of living, would be food enough I think
Apr 15 · 216
Unspoken
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
Apr 14 · 213
Tractor
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
Apr 11 · 183
Be more Gentle
Be more gentle
the glue is not yet set
neither child nor man
but something in between
you are as yet unformed
a wondering restless thing
forever rearranging
the shifting sea
which constant breaks
and beats the rocks
with pounding fists
to make them change
they will not shift
be not angry at a world
which moves too slow
and way too fast for me
be more gentle, wait a while
find the shape you want to be
Apr 10 · 217
Three Dead Pigeons
Three dead pigeons came to mourn
they hung around from dusk till dawn
and knowing I was gravely ill
stayed perched upon my window sill
then when it looked like I might stay
they clicked their beaks and flew away
A poem I dreamt
Apr 9 · 447
Autumn’s Burning
My cathartic heart
threw away the finished leaves of bitter autumn's burning
I brewed myself a loving cup, made sweeter by my learning
tansy, bay with chamomile, bright meadow flowers to sip
tastes better far than poison found upon your lips
Apr 7 · 486
Barely There
lithe she floats
surface barely breaking
hard as wood, smooth as jade
yet light, a thing of burnished air
barely there
no thoughts to weigh her down
for she has ceased to care
Apr 5 · 237
Winter's Passing
Faint breath flutters the curtains
in the pale green room named spring, we wait
certain that it will be tonight
still he hangs, a torn fingernail
catching sharp on the threads of the season
each wheeze falters, weaker than the last
he rallies and falls,
each stuttering fail
leaves us poised and frozen
still as rabbits on open ground
waiting, waiting waiting
for the sweet and silent sound
of winter’s passing
Apr 3 · 258
Welcome Party
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
Apr 1 · 315
Easter Already
Easter already
this year has slithered down the drain of time
where it will hide until Christmas
and have its babies
Mar 29 · 183
Leaf
Fair or foul
we sail together
the breeze my captain
and I his willing servant
travelling where he wishes
escaped from the tree
but no free spirit
a happy captive
of the wind
Mar 28 · 334
Seeds
We are all seeds
tiny grains of sand
lost on a desert wind
or so I understand,
on a hot afternoon
under a clear african sky
we blew into existence
God alone knows why
Mar 26 · 187
Connemara Morning Early
Connemara morning early
iron grey sky
scarping waves
of sharp and tempered steel
and a sun barely creeping
on peaty bog
and marshy sheep-shod field
here dwelt the silent ones
fertile gods of Erin's clan
who fed the earth
and coaxed the land
solemn faces watch us still
through smoky mist
on emerald hill
Mar 25 · 606
And The Rain Fell
And the rain fell
grey through holes in a badly darned sky
which looked like it had seen better days
a coffee shop whine of grinding beans
mixed with the sound of irish voices
made a better day than the one forecast
and brought a little sunshine to my winter cup
Mar 23 · 3.3k
Virginia
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
Flagged-Suicide themed
Mar 22 · 98
Galway Tears
Galway's tears are grey
soft they fall upon her cheeks
scarred and rutted with her age
weathered by storms
kissed by the sea
a faithful and remembered love
he visits often
and tries to bend her to his will
but she is strong
resoulute she will not change
only time can rearrange her features
often she is mild
her temper only stirred by the restless wind
who is her neighbour
always rapping on the doors
of her crouched and hunkered homes
yes, Galway’s tears are grey
but her grassy smile is warm and wide
she gets into the bones of you
until you know that can never really leave her loving arms
and if you do, know a little of her will be coming too
Mar 22 · 317
Green Donkey
Lonely donkey
standing in a field
munching words
not quite fitting in with the herd
all the other beasts are brown
he is green, with stripes and one ear
braying out poems
that noone else can hear
he isn’t unhappy
as he chews in the sun
but it’s hard to be
the only one
This is what it feels like to be me-sometimes
Mar 21 · 267
Tooreenacoona
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
Mar 16 · 309
Living Breath
I feel its living breath
close now
scented soft upon my shoulder
shivers the breeze
every lamb,
every flower,
every blossoming tree
I do not walk through spring
it walks through me
Mar 12 · 253
Cat
Cat
My old cat in spring
twitches his ear at passing bees
and sniffs at the lavender scented breeze
then he warms his belly and starts to purr
with a little less winter stuck to his fur
Mar 6 · 269
Swan Road
you took the swan road
your kimono hangs quiet
both of us empty
Mar 3 · 756
Crisp Packet Sails
It was windy today
I did not walk alone on the beach
or hear its many creaks and groans
the watery moans of margin land
where sea becomes sand, and tide becomes sky
I sat in the car to keep myself dry
and watch the squawking seabirds fly
battling the wind for scraps
thrown and trapped in a playful breeze
which dropped and then continued to tease
litter turned to crisp packet sails
that danced and skipped in the stinging air
with a grace and freedom I could not share
all the same I’m glad I was there
Just got back from the beach
Mar 1 · 959
Soft Falls The Light
Soft falls the light,
not sea nor beach nor seabird wandering sky
it is by nature separate and entirely of itself
edged in sand, a yellow shade of rippled countenance
not exactly day nor coming night
although the evening tide has lately been
it is a colour somewhere in-between
Feb 29 · 498
Sunflowers
Oh Vincent
whatever did you do
ripening fields of summer corn
and sunflowers of a brilliant hue
a shade no other eyes could see
except for God and you
Trying ekphrastic poetry
Feb 29 · 387
Blue Bowl
Press your ear against the bowl
can you hear it ringing
I think the earth is singing
Feb 25 · 664
Ocean Shoes
Tread the line between sea and sand
hold the wind, take its hand
let it out
anyway you choose
walk a mile in the ocean's shoes
Feb 24 · 137
Uncle Jim
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!
Feb 23 · 743
Assassin
Early morning fingers
clutching at the sill
as I lay quiet, warm and still
half awake yet wrapped in night
not ready for the coming light
which filters softly through the blind
to **** my peaceful state of mind
Feb 20 · 362
This Night
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
Feb 18 · 596
To Be A Poet
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
Feb 17 · 258
Yellow Dog
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
Feb 13 · 214
Stone
Most prison walls
are not made of stone
the thickest ones
are flesh and bone
Feb 12 · 276
Bottle Bank
The embankment is a river
of bottles in the sun
I've held them and I've kissed them
every single one
Feb 10 · 467
Little Black Dress
Today
I gave away your cocktail dress
it was black and fitted
I kept it for thirty years
but I never found the shoes
they were too big to fill
A short poem about grief and letting go of the past
Feb 9 · 323
Eighty Tides
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
Feb 6 · 389
Kiss Me
Walk with me a while
give me one last kiss on parting
good friends and lovers
secretly and silently entwined
yet I am ever thought as old
and you a young and pretty thing
winter sighs a final breath
and bends to kiss the hand of spring
Feb 5 · 202
Heist
Spring is ready
underneath each piece of fertile land
the heist is being planned
a plot to steal old winter's icy crown
wrapping it in warmer days to melt it down
Feb 4 · 120
Unseasonal
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
Jan 25 · 427
Fandango
I ate a ripe fandango
and washed it down with Tango
it tasted just like mango
Sounds like a fruit to me
Jan 24 · 153
Dragonfly
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
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