Countless blades of watery knives
dance before my dazzled eyes.
The sun's rays bounce off snow white walls
...
The peal of a funeral bell drifts
through an open window,
it permeates our discussion
of poetic terms.
...
The cafe flowers looked so real
I thought they must be plastic.
There's a message for us all
...
The dull conspiracy
between title and text
the 'garden path' titillation
...
Through a window pane in Worcester,
a scene Cezanne might have have painted,
sky of cornflower blue, Pyrenees replaced
by pale violet band of Malvern hills.
...
I went down to the Dee
to see how things were going,
I tried to push the Dee
but it was happy with its flowing.
...
Snowdon's flat back propped against
God's mantlepiece of sky
summed up the holiday experience.
...
Rainbow serpent wends its way
down the multi-puddled hill
Drum thrum of jungle origin,
...