Mark Heathcote

Gold Star - 29,477 Points (22/03/66 / Manchester)

A Blind Man Sayeth To A Shrew - Poem by Mark Heathcote

… Now don't ask me how
Our hearts came by valour
Yes, I too will disavow
That you or I ever knew.
That we'd wade with the marabou!
Through, flower openings velour.
Though at times, I couldn't see hitherto
I didn't need to peekaboo anymore.

… Now don't ask me how
Love is always in plain view
… Now don't ask me how …
A blind man said to a shrew.
Or else I'll disavow…
Like you, my teeth wear-down
And I too will drop dead
If, startled by a sudden, loud, sound.

..
Book title "Prayer Bells"

Tomorrows-not-one
Beautiful ly & Dutifully Bound
I've Frozen Time & Space
All that matters is now
Attic room
Little flower
Be Like the Wind Ever Watchful
An Ode to spring
Black Tulips
A Gentleman's Question
A Hornet on the Wing
Injustice
Exotic flowers unfurl
I'll Pray You Never Run Away
Apathy
Any More than the Moons Aglow
Hopping
A Thought Is an Idea in Transit (Pythagoras Quote)
Tinderbox
Rose petals at my feet
A Hornet on the Wing
That First Unsullied Snowdrop
Kissed by a butterfly's wing
Consider you are a tree
The Family Tree
Raspberry Canes
The lovers fall
Have We Lingered In Their Attic Floors?
Any More than the Moons Aglow
The Tree Brides
And Be Worth So Much More than Gold
Who'll Fall Headlong First?
While here
Braid Your Hair with His
The Wind to Be My Publisher
When winter does wrestle death
Yellow On Purple
Prayer bells
Healing Properties
After Global Peace
The lovers-root is a white-flower
See His Ceiling
When it shines
Night of the Coffin Fly
Restrain me
Honeypot of gold
Drunk with love
Just Imagine
Elven child (fantasy poem)
Snowdrops
Fine Silk Spun With Gold
Just Imagine
On The Wings of Love
Wishing the weather was fair
The Journal of the dead
The Whisper of the Muse
Let me burn
A Common Brother
A Creaking Blue Door
We're as a candle's flame
Stick or Bust
Has the moon found her rose?
God will save us all
Everything
Her work
Last visit & conversion
The Rose and the Bumble Bee
Mother-nature
Bolshoi Dancers
Bubble Gum Pavements
Colossal Choices
The journey home
Without you
Confession
The first whack of light
Cot Death
Could You Image Just One Navajo Indian Tribe?
Did It Prevent Your Sun Kissed Dreams?
'Nothing like White Roses'
Every Second an Eternity Prolongs
When rivers run cold
Sleeping with the doves in paradise (song)
Nefertiti
Semisweet
The Taste of Cyanide
Barbarity all around me
Joy jumps heart to heart
In prayer did I hear a hum?
What do you want with me?
A Moment of Truth
How can I
With a song delicate
Top Hat & Tails
Redemption
Roses are on fire
Bittersweet
Mrs Robinson
The carpenter's hands
Poetry in motion
Unconditional Love
I see it's a journey just to hang around
My daily prayer
Baboons
Bridges We Can Admire
The world is corrupt
Rough sleeping
The white elephant
New Year, Starting From Tonight
Life Is What?
My garden was a roadside paradise
Tomorrows-not-one


















< br>










Tomorrows-not-one

When blue skies a vision of despair?
When a sense of anguish fills the air
Clouds gather in from everywhere
Colliding with us they ensnare-

Thunder bursts, rain falls lashing down
Dulls each heart, tilts each heavy crown,
That commands the sea, the weather
As King Canute, would his pleasure.

Frail in eternal laws are we
None, above the life of a flea:
That humblest of beasts, are we not
If, I recognize-my-own-lot.

Now look the skies vault opens new
We see azure the cloudless blue
A reminder someone other
Reigns in things we've set asunder.

We see a weary turtle dove
Returned with cooing words of love
So don't despair the weather's fair-
Tomorrows-not-one, cloud in the air.










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Beautifully & Dutifully Bound

Gods an atlas book, beautifully & dutifully bound
But beware before you make your own, journey
There are no pages covered within it to be, found.

Covertly you are the story not yet been written
You are the darkness flooded by a lit clerestory
Choir of light the voice; that isn't any, one man's religion.

That's your northern star your difficult course to sail
Remember some books require patients to prevail
And a good lot of working senses to follow braille.









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I've Frozen Time & Space

Fleeting as an ocean wave;
Once, surge waters knocked us both for six. "I know
And it is as if only yesterday for me
I held your hand in mine, a lifetime ago.
Still, it holds at its highest peak".
It doesn't reach the shoreline or turn tail & run,
Someplace inside of me, quite, unique
I've frozen time & space; honestly, it doesn't succumb,
Never, do I forget how clear
Our waters coursed through our veins.
Never, do I forget the oceans I'd bleed
For you, nothing ever in me wax or wanes
It's as if some drop of crystal-water still holds true
As if love is part & parcel of every-soul
For even if it turns cloudy or murky,
I know I too want to evaporate & sprawl
& perspire once more flawless over you
Like dawns first ever drifts of morning dew.










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All that matters is now

Moments come and go
All that matters is now
Fleeting as aeons ago

A glance exchanged
Swift melting as snow
What has changed?

A first kiss is memorable
But nothing is eternal
Nothing except these passing's
Of each other's love, more than needful.

More than wishful
More than baptismal
Death is never deceitful
Moments come and go
All that matters is now.










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Attic room

Through a narrow doorway turning left
I was, dumped placed in the attic room
The linen white was crisp pressed
And a crucified Christ hung bereft
Silver dappled draped a shining moon
How-clear I still remember the sorrow
Of that little attic room, within me
It's darkness like a shining barrow
Gloom, waiting to be lifted, freed esprit.


















Little flower

Your designated time a brief hardship a journey
Without tears clouding your eyes; devout devotion
Like a little paper boat, you sail unworthy,
Taking in bilge waters filled with high emotion.
Come, kneel in total submission. A willing bride
Your journey is a lifetimes undertaking
Your heart motes a keep only one Lord can reside.
His residence sits lest not I'm mistaking
In the centre of your heart the vortex of your soul
You must, by all means, flail out the wheat from the chaff
It's a vow of faith to make, thyself, whole
To undertake this journey ends all hatred and wrath.
O my little flower your quest to be a nun,
Is a heroine's noble deed that requires faith?
Every battle has two outcomes, lost or won
Love enslaves and, in true love, there is only praise.














Be Like the Wind Ever Watchful
Outside the wind inhales its own, enormous voice
But inside it's quiet, a needy crummy little mouse
Bravely it lingers watchful at the window-door
It's self an ever-expanding universe a metaphor
Hurling both rain and snowflake with an icy raw
The wind an unbalanced creature on falcon's claw
You feel his bewilderment of flightless strength
You're a chasm he enters in a lonely wavelength
Be like the wind ever watchful at the window-door
Be as the ever-expanding universe forever more.




















An Ode To Spring
Look how the gardener hates those weeds
As soon as the Wren makes her move to nest
It's then his squeaky wheelbarrow impedes
With the forked-out; green Medusa's headdress.

But look here in the meadow of idle hands,
A yellow chaffinch and a cluster of bluebells
By tall oaks here Primrose edge of woodlands.
Clouds pass-over in shade of dappled pastels.

Cosy silence is broken; by half-a-dozen Ravens
In the Horse chestnuts waving ship like masks
Spring opens a drying pine-cone as lupines
Purple like spruce trees opens flowery Basques.

Glistening fishes, abdomens are swollen like a pear.
At first taste of spring a sheet web spider?
Makes her own, perennial hammocks snare—
To sew-up spring her first petal winged fibres.

Here to a brown hare crouches dying in numbers
Once a common sight, running at 35 mph—
In male, dominance but now on one's uppers
Their circles of competition to attain - plagued.

Sorry I couldn't make it more cheerful
But that is the nature of nature after all.










Black Tulips
Black tulips, tulips red, tulips gold
They warm my heart from the bitter cold.

On bending stems they curtsy on the wind
Bob on the air, like sunlight, been pinned.

In frozen earth crossways hatched at night
They weep - close - fall asleep till daylight.

Black tulips, tulips red, tulips gold
They warm my heart from the bitter cold.

I wish I were a snowdrop an astronaut.
Above the clouds but I'm not, I'm an ink blot.

















A Gentleman's Question

I have a gentleman's question
I have questions - lots, how did it go,
I'd inform you, but I only had,
Have these very few moments which to sow.

Okay, then dear chap, dear man
Make it swift then, write me a poem,
If only I had time, I'd give you
My words opening, prelude in rhyme.

Don't tease us, sir, with mystical silence
That just will not do, conform
Confess we want precise details
And the measure of her underclothing dress.

















A Hornet On The Wing

God, would catch a hornet on the wing,
Relish infinite-beauty, not its sting
Beauty that is such, I cannot-truly-say,
From now on, words have no meaning
From this day forward to any other day
'Should I love you, well that's not a question
At any junction, He wouldn't entertain'.
Your petals are like-a-rose not quite formed
But neither are you, to me outperformed.




















< br>Injustice
We paint injustice
like a Crayola sunset
but His love isn't child's play.






















< br>
Exotic flowers unfurl

Let only one be your centrepiece
& the others,
Let them brocade your world
Swim in your dreams
Like sirens to remind you,
That a wayward sailor often drowns
Torso on fire—doused
I have picked one jewel
One gem, I was meant to receive
& it was purely instinctual
Not anything to misconceive
I plucked her wings, there & then
Held her steadfast against my skin
After tonight the world
Shall never be the same again.


















I'll Pray You Never Run Away
A song with a story, not just jingles
I go with the moonbeams
The stars in the dark
Aqua blue is the air that filters through
Where first I took, a hold of you
Fevers broke on my brow
If you love me, let me know now.

Here I felt your glow
With the moonbeams in the dark
Here I'll park my heart
Under a street lamp in the dark
With a song a story, not just jingles
I'll light your way home
So you're never alone.

If you love me let me know
Fevers will break on the light of day
If you just kiss me at this hour of the dark
I'll pray for Aqua blue air every day
I walk in the moonbeams
Real slowly, I'll pray you never-run-away
Without our story, not just jingles with bells on your toes.











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Apathy

I'm losing the will to live
At important times to fight
To put this world to rights
Cause it so not right
…living on despite
Others, plight.

But because I'm
No giant of strength might.
I don't want to pick a fight
I'm a lightweight
That's me alright
So, I'll just say now Goodnight.


















Any More than the Moons Aglow

There are fairies in the light
In that glowing bulb so bright
Resin trunks - amber lockets
Wound around a ring of spirits.

Who goes there in the wilderness?
Shaking snow, laden with deftness.
Is she an angel—I don't know?
Any more than the moon's soft glow

Who goes there in the shadows?
Winking, when all I do is frown
Oh, there's a seraph in the moonlight.
Owl-wing-flutters drown my soul tonight.









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Hopping

Hop ing my tears regroup and create an oasis
I'm going out of my mind, but I sense a change
Hoping the dawn will have a new warm embrace
Hoping every cloud will dissipate
And tree like vines of love
Take hold and root me to one spot

Hoping my dreams that sped away come back to stay.
And all the smog of confusion clears
And those painful yesterday's turn to happier yesteryears
And I grow old with someone worth living with every day.










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A Thought Is an Idea in Transit (Pythagoras Quote)

The world is living memory without thought
Music has an unlimited number of percussions
For us, there are all manner of repercussions
Precursors that like birdsong changes, and

Resonates into all spheres all individualities
Therein it attracts expands and contracts
So it is we ask of our infant minds, why
Why does Pythagoras not answer us?

Why didn't abacus calculate this for us?
Dark matter, energy, matter our solid matter.
Why does it, only amount to a measly 4%?
I guess that's why the god particle, was sent.

It obliterates and yet it now unmeasurably
Creates expands its music across the universe
Its true gravity is thought to be infinite
It is a singularity that began as a single note.

It sang the first OM, OM… OM…
If music be the food of love, play on.











Tinderbox

I just want to be the fire
That ignites and burns free
Whatever ills avail me
I don't desire to change
I just want to be myself
Less the mask I project
Less the chains that bind
Less these bars that confine
Or any self-righteous intellect

I just want to be the ignition;
That first lit spark of who I am
Who I really, am
Yes, there's a tinderbox
Inside of you and me
There's a spark a star eternal
That hasn't been, consumed
And this fire, I want to unleash
To one day devour you.











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Rose petals at my feet

Rose petals at my feet look destitute
They're strewn all around my front garden path
They swirl like clouds trying to reconstitute
It pangs my heart that in their aftermath
Once again this summer draws to an end.
And my own, "Damask Rose", I gave my heart
Didn't open, wasn't for a minute my friend.
Rose petals at my feet will now depart
& winter shall arrive with snow & sleet
Spring & summer will come, never again.
Love deprived I shouldn't settle for conceit
Remembering a once, glowing, warm gem.
Rose petals at my feet foretell our end
No longer in this rose can I pretend?











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A Hornet on the Wing

God, he would catch a hornet on the wing,
Relish infinite beauty, not its sting.
Your-beauty is such, I cannot-truly-say,
Words have no meaning this or any other day.

'Should I love you, well that's not a question
He would entertain at any junction'.
Your petals are like-a-rose not quite formed
But neither are you, to me outperformed.




















T hat First Unsullied Snowdrop
Love, what flower do you most aspire?
Love, what flower should I most admire?
Red peonies with lustful, conduit, desire
Purple crocuses cupped with fire
Or the now, pink foreign, ragged robin,
Breathless; rolling on a country, common.
I'm like a sprig of green Solomon's seal
You're like a single rosebud, so, genteel.
Love, what flower should I most aspires?
Love, what flower do you utmost require?
Be it the foxgloves fleshy advancing spire
Or the honeysuckles tendrils of wire.
Be you, simply May time's forget-me-not
… Better still that first unsullied snowdrop.


















Kissed by a butterfly's wing
In such a way it should be contraband
Her heart & soul fluttered heavenly south,
As a butterfly's wing kissed her hand
& then her cheek, & then her open, mouth
Taking little bites & long drawn out sips
It was then all she could do to resist.
Like a fallen nest exposed, her own, lips
She then coiled around him like moonlit mist
Where she pressed firmly against his naked chest
He squirmed inside an outward-flowing-tide.
All inhabitations now dispossessed
He hears her heart crackling electrified
Hearing hallelujahs then, then amen!
He presses forward & kisses her once again.


















Consider you are a tree
When a tree is, grown
you have to decide
it's purpose its size
and more besides

Do you want dappled shade
do you want flowers
do you want tremulous movement
do you want upward Powers

Or swaying in the breeze
consider you are a tree
what do you wish to be
a thorn or a tulip tree.


















The Family Tree

Old men cling to their gnarl-wooden sticks
And wither from the cares of the world over
Like apple blossom kissed silver with icy cold licks
They know there are no more days of clover

But from their flowering came the fruit
The seed of wane-blown family
From their branching water-shoot
A core of all that's good and Bramley

So remember dearly, remember clearly
The canker of their clay sincerely
Since they still warm us ever so dearly
With their glowing embers.
And sweeten our childhood, Septembers
Long into their autumnal Novembers.











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Raspberry Canes

In and out the raspberry canes
'On a jack frost, bitten day
With nothing more than twine,
and knife
To earn my daily' pay.
Bending back the line of whips!
From: 'Lands-End to John o' Groats'

These willowy viaduct sticks
…Seemingly it will never end.

In and out the raspberry canes
'With nothing burning on my mind:
I accept the numbing' hail and rain.
And the wisps of empty time
Bending, back the line of whips:
Beneath a solemn; grey stone-sky.
Under the derogatory east-wind
A hells purgatory cry
From: 'Lands-End to John o' Groats'

…Seemingly it will, never-end:











< br>
The lovers fall
I am the leaves of a tree
I am an aspen whispering to you
Because I've nothing better to do
I spread my gold dappled leafs over you
And take root under you, and ask you
Are you the sun, are you the sky?
Are you the ocean, are you the moon?
Because I've been searching for you
I've spread my leaves to the four winds
And, found my resting place beside you.










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Have We Lingered In Their Attic Floors?

On hearts of angels have we trod?
Heavier sorrows than the weight-of-sod
Have we lingered in their attic floors?
To glimpse, hear, behind their doors.

The sound of the vesper-bells upon their toes
Have we glued our hearts decomposed?
Sifted through shadows only He knows
Still yet find ourselves, juxtapose.

Any learning a uniform wind commands.
Oh, such a bounty is in store pre-tax
If we can exert a torque force of love
Might we discover the wings of a dove?











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Any More than the Moons Aglow

There are fairies in the light
In that glowing bulb so bright
Resin trunks - amber lockets
Wound around a ring of spirits.

Who goes there in the wilderness?
Shaking snow, laden with deftness.
Is she an angel—I don't know?
Any more than the moon's soft glow.

Who goes there in the shadows?
Winking, when all I do is frown
Oh, there's a seraph in the moonlight.
Owl-wing-flutters drown my soul tonight.









< br>







The Tree Brides

Of course, a tree has rings
Each one, a wedding, band
Oh, to be the 'bride' of such a tree
To bask in His emerald love unendingly

Minus all other pining - cordialities.
But just a litany of birdsong
Oh, wouldn't that be truly heavenly
Wear plain sky, as a wedding sarong





















Mira cle in the dark

It's like a miracle in the dark
That sardines chase the light
It's like a miracle in the dark
That squid rises up the moonlight.

It's like a miracle in the dark
That fireflies signal, intermittent
It's like a miracle in the dark
That bats are honing their skills cogent.

It's like a miracle in the dark
That golden orb-weaver spider
It's like a miracle in the dark
In that world of nocturnal, cat caper.

It's like a miracle in the dark
That an owl calls to wild owl
It's like a miracle in the dark
Meeting your sweetheart; in her cowl.














And Be Worth So Much More than Gold

Every story generates lies and tall tales
Distorting mirrors sadly, ruin lives.
It is better to be independent of any fictions
Find those sieves within yourself
That filters out fool's gold and reaches the core.
And whatever's left must be real
And be worth so much more than gold.






















W ho'll Fall Headlong First?

In their throes of love, a tree rocks
Back and forth, roots near uplifted
Hold tight; a fear a paradox-
Comes to them, all subsidised.

They are like two forests embracing
Second, guessing the changing wind
Who'll fall headlong first? Heart racing
Will forever be intertwined?

The other will be entangled
By a Virginia creeping vine—
It will turn from a wild spangled-
Green; to something a lot more sublime.

Their love shall carpet the ground
Spread scarlet waves across the sky
The horizon shall look tie-dyed
Rose dimpled like a rainbow trout.

In their throes of love the world shakes
Down the blossom on budding bough
It opens secret hearts endow
With gifts therein all time forsakes.











< br>
While here

While here run through tall meadows
While here smell the scent of flowers
While here feel the beat of a bird's wing
While here touch the tingling snows

While here gaze up at the moon
While here sit in the arms of a tree
While here count at midnight the stars
And thank yours, mine are still ours.





















Braid Your Hair with His

God - has many names,
But "Love" is the one that counts
Most aptly "Love is"… "Love"
"Just Love" only, one word
Like…"God" isn't it?

God - has so many names
Each acts as a veil
But "Love" is, "Love" only.
So braid your hair with His
Embrace, lock fingers with His.

His is a tree twining roots
His is the first branch you perch on
His is trees-bough at your centre
Your hearts bead is a locket of amber
"The trees name" is "Love.
















The Wind to Be My Publisher

Let the wind be my publisher
Let it make dulcimer music
Let it circle the globe,
Turn over the page & Engage!
Fill your earlobes with beauty,
& when finally it's closing in
On its final - chorus final chapter.
On the last concluding, word & hour
Let it be, heard God said amen!
Thanks to my little birdsong, songbird,
Come with me & let us be
Let us be, eternally good friends
Hark! Now listen to the foolish wind
How your music transcends and suspends.











< br>






Yellow On Purple

Sitting here in the casement window of my soul
In two minds 'dancing in a theatre of dreams'
'Yellow on purple', I dream of you
Ah the Himalayas was cumulated in such a conflict
Where parallel thoughts like parallel bars did collide
Where white prayer flags, suspended above 20,000 ft.
Gymnastically awaited the arrival of something heavenly,
Oh, I feel like an eagle flying over the Lions Gate Bridge
Stanley Park Vancouver, closing my eyes kissing your lips.











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When winter does wrestle death

When winter does wrestle death
Snow lies falling with petals bereft
Her mantles a meadow, white lily
Uprooting stars, in heavens pity.
Fine, veils of silk they're spun to order
Wheeling moths—circle and flutter
Then Ferris wheel across the border.
Our souls are curdled, in God's butter
When winter does wrestle death
No heart will beat in shadows bereft
The feeble will draw a second breath
When winsome-winter wrestles death
The old cudgelled wings, given new
Give wave their goodbyes, at us adieu.



















Prayer bells

It's a topsy-turvy world but don't be fooled or confused
Everything will be unfurled and again suitably-fused.

There will be prayer bells spun across the Himalayas
They shall pitch, fecund at some higher alertness.

… You'll sense all living things have a tone of fulfilment
You'll walk in a labyrinth there find endless devilment.

That everything that's known still goes unrecognised
Like reflections clone, more in ways crystallised.




















H ealing Properties

She awoke the Vespers of that noon
Rang alarm bells longing to be attuned
She moved like sand-dunes in the starlit night
Ran through my fingers jealously guarded
her skin was the colour of dolomite
Pinkish marble a crystal regarded
To own healing properties within it
I marvelled her quiet tranquillity
How she captivated me to submit
My heart, my soul with such futility.











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After Global Peace

'After global peace, what next, will follow? '
Course there'll be no apathy or gluttony,
'Course not, ' you won't beg, steal or borrow.
There'll be no infighting even for survival
Love will follow love and topple all evil.

Imprisoned poets, will sing of joy and life
And return home to unknown foreign lands
There'll be no more murder on the 10 o'clock news.
Soon soldiers will down, their barbaric tools
Stop listening to governmental patriarchal fools.

'And write about how even they too were used.'
Course there'll be no hunger or indifference
We shall all be—bothers & sisters
There'll be no envy or lust, no avarice
Growing rice; living in harmony, this could be, nice.

'After global peace, what next will follow? '
Well, we shall all live like Easter Islanders
With big heads, and practice slash-and-burn.
'Pretty shortly, won't we run out of resources? '
Yes, but like so many, before us, we‘ll set sail for the sun.

Put all our faiths on a straw-raft as did our forefathers.
Kon-Tiki man, and look for the Promised Land.
'I beg your pardon, but hasn't that ocean, been mapped.'
You Sir! You have no faith. Look at our giant statues
Hollow-eyed, gaunt faces, didn't their ancestors survive








The lovers-root is a white-flower

The month does but shiver with joy,
With the tears of a snow-drop,
Little-bells, buoyant, green and cloy,
Ringing, beyond the hilltop.

The lovers-root is a white-flower
On Valentine's Day
Thus it performs both sweet and sour
Piercing the walls of shy Cathay.

Kisses: mingle, like wild woodbines
As brown; blue jays' mêlée in the eaves
They're limbs, entwined, like vines
Need only, the wind, which now cleaves.

Violets stir in that amethyst snap!
She's my oracle, hears my lover—sings
And awakens from her frozen nap
A mortal being, with wings.
















See His Ceiling

See His ceiling lit with many a mirrored star
See the lamps that glimmering is, truly ours
Then alchemises, these cherished hearts
Into moments, minutes, & hours
Then alchemises what love eternal is yours
What radiance shone meteoric ashore?
What pull has turned a melancholic tide?
And harboured so many a soul & mind
Through a seismic, storm
Brimful of a universe without impudent pride
Know your place is a golden elixir by His side.











< br>







When it shines

When the sun shines
It shines through you
I am molten rock in love
What more can I do?
I am, moved, and I am
Quenched in your sea
I am a frozen lamb,
What more would you have me be?
Let us feel a tendril vine
As it grows, as it trembles
As it climbs, as it flowers
As its seeds, get dispersed
Let us sense and remember
Our petals gave rise to sunsets
Gave rise to births and deaths
And when it shines
It does so for you.










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Night of the Coffin Fly

Is this, the night of the 'coffin fly? '
That will riddle down 6ft under
Deeper than deep
In short bursts of running
Jerky, movements in a midnight flurry
No, it's another gun wheedling madman
A 'scuttle fly' with a machine gun.
Scum of the EARTH! ! !
Bringing mayhem to a nation in turmoil, crying
—And why, why, why
And why, why, why
And why, why, why
Their parents ask
Their partners ask
The headlines ask
The people ask
But their politicians never answer
It goes, deeper—
Deeper than deep
And 6ft under; the night of the 'coffin fly? '















Restrain me

Restrain me because I want to bathe in your sun
I want a southern moon to shiver on you
From the naked shadows, I cast over you
Restrain me I'm like an applecart toppled over
Soon, I will be showing you the core of my heart
How I've longed to touch you in the dark
And trace the horizon that lights up in your eyes
Restrain me because I want to bathe in your sun
I want only for you, I hunger-for-you
There is no other star shines brighter than you.










< br>








Honeypot of gold

Oh, lucky, lucky me
I climbed a maple tree
And, found a sacred bee
Making honey; just for me.

Omnipotent and gold breaking free of shadow
Supreme Being you are an eternal summer star
You light the way that I and others must follow
That I and that lonelier moon with her guitar

Will shadow, Supreme Being with a golden-sitar
You light the way, and all is, bathed in ash and fire
Ah, oceans, rise, rise, rise, rise and, I am, baptised.

Supreme Being your warmth is a deep, deep magnifier
You light the way so that others feel galvanised
Just by your touch, more, and more humanised.

Oh, lucky, lucky me
I climbed a maple tree
And, found a sacred bee
Making honey; just for me.













Drunk with love

If I covertly look into your eyes
I see before me my destiny. Clearly
See my both hands resting on your warm thighs
See our two lips kissing feverishly.
Believe me, our fortunes they're intertwined
If I look unwaveringly at you
I know our stars are forever aligned
So just for tonight, I bid you adieu.
But I might come back only to go blind.
And take what I know inside to be mine
There isn't a soul hasn't been maligned.
But you're my one and only Valentine
I wouldn't permit one bad sullied, word
Even if I, myself right now sound slurred.









< br>







Just Imagine

Just imagine you didn't have long to live
What would you give to live that bit longer?
Just ponder, don't meander into overdrive
Strive to answer like a cataloguer
What you've somehow have lost & forgot
Like the key to your house - standing outside
Take a long look to find, access & plot
Away back in, don't look mystified.
Your life's just a short story, chapter & verse
There's nothing to rehearse, acceptance
Isn't a curse; roll over a new stone, nurse-
Your old wounds & fight - be impetuous
Just imagine life is a wave returned-
To life & nothing's ever adjourned.

















Elven child (fantasy poem)

Elven child, my hearts a toadstool
but do sit on it awhile
Then goes climb another country stile
and run a country mile.

Elven child, I've paid my penance;
I'm only a human being,
Look go battle an orc,
and leave me to my silly dreaming.

Elven child, why do you smile
and grin at me this way, be off
Go, gather fresh spider webs
and embroider them into cloth.

Elven child, why are you
such an irritant, little nuisance
You know I need to take my bath
and enjoy, my ablutions.

Elven child, am I going mad
this worlds full of deceptions
Stay awhile elven child,
help me with my misconceptions.












Snowdrops

Can it be winter is leaving
Such loveliness is joyous
Their greenery is beauteous
Their charm is undeceiving.

Snowdrops are pushing up
Last year's magnolia leaves
Making little brown teepee's
I can almost hear their blood.

I can almost hear a choir
Of archangels singing
While briar woods are sleeping
Their flowers are an appetiser.

But how their memory lingers
How those green and white
Bells so static, still excite
Icy chilblain, fingers.









< br>




Fine Silk Spun With Gold

Folded moth wings placed together in prayer
Open to discover the moon and starlit air
In madness flap circle my heart—
And like a curtain, take little bites at my soul.

But what can they discover - there!
My heart isn't threaded spun with gold.
And my soul isn't made of fine-silk
I'm just as the moon lost in this black ink.

With folded hands at night, I am, locked in sleep.
I dream and pray to fly away
Indeed there are no limits to the madness I seek.
'I even have the freedom to fly'.

'In madness flap circle the light in a distant sky.
My prayers are never more of spoken
As I draw back a curtain, which reveals a fine-silk'.
Spun with gold in madness, desires even my soul










< br>


On The Wings of Love

Mayfly if ever an angel - be
It was you and me
Pirouetting in the air so free
Above a cobweb lea

If ever a child had azure blue wings
As blue as a periwinkle sky
Then sweet tenderfoot, swimming
It must have been you and, I

Down amongst the meadows
Where the green woods-wend
Down amongst the willows
Where the reeds draught an end:

There I came a dancing
A roving like a bee
With honeydew brown eyes
By a river; like the river Spree.

Soft as ephemeral moonlight
You took wing with me
Oh mayfly green and tender bright
True angels once were we.













Wishing the weather was fair

I wanted to see you flourish
And bloom all season long
In waves of orange blossom,
Nurtured and fully, nourished.

I didn't wish to confine you
I wanted you to roam…
Like fresh wild thyme, imbue
That scent in this hearts cobblestone.

I chose you like a flower
For a buttonhole
Love, you were the one flower
I chose for my soul.

I wanted us to grow old unruffled
By whatever winter-
Throws our way, untroubled
But Love's a different picture.

Like a rose have its brambles
We too have our faults
We are loving companions
That has some thunderbolts.

But we both tend our garden
And water it with care
There are times we become harden
Wishing the weather was fair.

But I'm settled for when they are
Resided for when they're not
And count you my lucky star
You're the winner in my plot.







The Journal of the dead

The Journal of the dead what would it read
Today we eat dust and, walked on duckweed
Tonight we all partied and waltzed through walls
Disturbing the living; with white overalls.

Tomorrow truly who knows what that'll bring?
Floorboards' squeaking a baby is mewling,
Graveyard was, crowded so I went for a walk
And, then flew alongside a sparrow-hawk.

It soared up over an ancient coppice
Felled once a decade to warm some goddess
Her flesh without fire, cold as a river
That flows from a mountain through a fissure.

The Journal of the dead what would it read
Today Jesus blessed me with good old mead.
I joined the flock pursued by a collie…
Ambling like a lamb lost in the valley.

Closing this book I now too must here go…
Say Amen and rest, like fresh winter snow
Putting down, pen, my own Journal is done
The last page is torn goodbye, everyone.













The Whisper of the Muse

With his violin bow in hand, the man plays
Then stops, listens to his whispering muse.
Where others were entranced, he breaks and weighs.
His face solemn in thought; much less enthuse
Resembling a wilting flower head drooped
For the world looks a man who has been, duped.

He's old, and he has passed this way before,
He knows off by heart, the music his soul-
Has sealed inside, and like green Hellebore
In winter time, his head will rise and roll
And the blood of Christ, a clap of thunder
Makes all bolt up straight in awe, and wonder.


















Let me burn

Beneath the tree of God
I am not sinful or sinless
But if doomed I am to die.
Can I borrow your lips?
Your heart and your smile
Taste the fruit of good and evil
And know all there is to know
About ripe plums their stones.

Beneath this tree of God
If I am condemned to know
Only this flesh, live in this flame
We call a body that dances
Leaps headlong for another
Let me burn at a steady rate
And in your arms my love,
Slowly, ever slowly disintegrate.

















A Common Brother

Red squirrel your grey brother
Has more earthly power
Then you; in all your frivolous fire
He does wrinkle out the lower
Where you have climbed the higher

And this has made the difference
To the bane star of his eye
Where you; my red brother
Eat your last supper and die.











< br>







A Creaking Blue Door

I recall a lake, waters emerald
Sunlight glinting, and in every corner
A school of fish, I'd sit like Tom Sawyer
I'd watch pine trees swaying tall & pencilled.

I'd see fat carp in groups of three & four
Move with the ease of summer clouds that had
Now become unaccustomed to downpours—
And recall the old fishing hut, table plaid.

It's lime green, boards & a creaking blue door
I recall kingfishers darting, side by side
How they would plunge & then suddenly soar
I was in [heaven] till insecticides

From a crop, sprayer flew over, killing
Of all the fish, which meant no revenue.
The fishing hut got hauled down, a clearing-
Made, trees felled like some God had gone achoo!

A heartbreak evident in daylight
Gloomily that's how I recall this place
Squat lakeside like being graveside
A feeling all [heaven] had been, defaced.











< br>
We're as a candle's flame

Your soul is a key jammed in a lock
You cannot force forwards or back
Right or left; all you can do now is wait.

Wait long enough you'll come to see
Understand there isn't any door or lock.
The ocean of life retains, not the vessel

That floats and drifts, endless upon it.
That's a vapour you cannot contain,
The sun is an all-consuming fire it exists

In humble beginnings as also an end.
It lives without life, therefore, coexists yet
Because it only requires waxed wicks to burn.

We're a candle's flame; we're not the candle
We burn to our extinguished ends
To be ignited by this life - once again.











< br>


Stick or Bust

I married my heart to you
I pinned it to the wall
You can crush it like a flower.
Cos the way I'm feeling
It now doesn't, really matter
It was freely, given
And yours equally
You didn't have to barter
I gave you, it willingly at cost
Hoping you would make
The most of it, and you did.
Now it's stick or bust
Or do you twist,
And have I lost?











< br>



God will save us all
God will save us for sure
No need to worry, final!
Child, do not live in denial
God will save us for sure.

God will save us for sure
He'll open up a portal
Tell us we're no longer mortal
God will save us for sure.

God will save us for sure
I hear we're nearing his call
He delivers us from evil
God will save us for sure.

God will save us for sure
Just leave a light on
Just leave an open door
God will save us for sure.

God will save us for sure
Listen, I hear his arrival
Nothing to fear or be frightful of
God will save us for sure.

God will save us for sure
Even-handed one and all
The meek & mild & them, that's wild
God will save us all.










E verything

Baby don't be afraid of black ghosts
The angels are always near, close
Just open your eyes don't be, afraid
Let them open to the sunlit skies
To the stars that sink into your soul.

Baby soak up the moonbeams
Of this life, life is your parade
Don't let those monsters enter your skin
Open your heart to love
And send them black ghost packing.

Because you, we are strong
When it's midnight, that's the time
To show you have faith in all you know
And make a stand and make love
Love to all the sadness darkness

That hides and sinks in quicksand.
Stand proud and firm, wipe away your tears
Baby don't be afraid of black ghosts
You know who you are
And you are everything if you're willing to be saved.

And baby don't harbour hate
Garden faith in a better tomorrow
And grow, let all those black ghosts go
Winter will have its time, but spring
Will always have warmer climes for us to climb.










Has the moon found her rose?

Has the moon found her rose?
In the mirror of your face
When she soothed in repose
Did you steal her grace?

Quill in hand, did she quiver
Then strike out the stars
Short fuse Gods voltage emitter
Baneful of how beautiful you are.

Has the moon found her rose?
One equal of her rhythmic music
Her nocturne throes
Poetic refinement is therapeutic.

But so is the hand we trace
To the stars in their orbit
That weaves and embraces
The world with us transported.








< br>





Her Work

Her workbench is a tale of art
Brushes of every size lay in wait
She says it's heaven to spoil her-self
Paint and pamper and decorate.

My job is to look my very best:
And to put out my chest, pose and smile.
Wink in the right direction if it-
Serves me well, I'll put you under my spell.

Hair blonde then purple and pink the next
Body inked. All is a canvas nothing is real
The hair the eyelashes, her teeth whitened
And even her face has had a peel.

An all over body tan straight from
A spray can, isn't it obligatory
To then carry a Pomeranian a-
Pekingese a Shih Tzu in a Chanel bag.

‘I wear Stuart Weitzman heels baby,
I've got status-baby, to hell with you'.














When we're gone and no longer

To be there when we're gone and no longer
That freshly taken photo, with our children
In some movie at a wedding as a spectator
Part of the scenery, not yet an anachronism
A footnote in time isn't that our aspiration…
Remembered as a star in their constellation

… Orbiting their hearts, their starry heavens
Still shedding some contributory light
That guides them on their path, a presence
That gives them the courage to face the night
To be there when we're gone and no longer
So they might not in their footsteps falter.


















Bolshoi Dancers

I believe the world is changing its core beliefs
It's moving from iron changing to a zinc alloy
It's now, moving from zinc alloys to a mercury core
And what's more, the temperature is rising
The temperature is rapidly-rising for sure
And what's more, potentially there is no guarantor.

No promise the Bolshoi dancers shall dance anymore
No, promise that the world will be here at all
To ballet dance on its axis
To figure skate like a dying black swan
Once, we're all dead and gone
Once, were drowned at the bottom of this mercury pond.











< br>






Last visit & conversion

Here lies—
My grandmother
Weak tired, nearing her death
The archetypal grandmother
Who soothed all manner of nursery cries
Who made everything so much better?

Here lies—
My grandmother
Weak drained approaching her final breath
In that last week of heinous lies
… Spoken in strictly sweet "hellos",
Not in those sad, departing, closing "goodbyes".

… Valedictions, farewells
Before, the cloak of her life
Lifts & falls silently bereft.
Closes like a child's ballerina music box
In her last wheezed surrendered, dying breaths.
In hopes-prayer
In hopes coiled never-fading-ending
In words, formed all too cold & informal
Like crusts of stale bread.

Floated in the mouths of the living,
Where it has been faithfully-said
That our own, increments will also rise
Conversely, against all natural logic
And speak from our own, deathbeds.
"Will not each & every one of us..?
One day, converse, with the dead".

Here lies—
My grandmother
And to bring you up to date she is now dead, deceased.
But conversely against our present state of mind
But not this individual, not my heart or will.
I'll open a ballerina music box; hear her sing once more
I'll see her again in this life or the next, all logic denied.
Of that my dear friends I am not just nostalgically sure.




Ashes…

You've reduced my heart to ashes
But still, still, I would ask you to blow,
Blow, deeply into these remains static
See me glow, tremble into living flame.
Know my fire for you cannot die
Its tempest has no inner peace or calm.

A hurricane that alternates between
Heaven and earth, longing, longing
To be in just one happy dwelling
But like an ocean tide, there's no such place.
So of course, if my fire, fire were to burn
Begin to vent throughout my core—its

Because I love you with my every, pore
I'm near extinguished, but that only
Makes me yearn a million times more
To feel our fanned flame fire restored.
You've reduced my heart to ashes
But I've still this love, this unused passion.









< br>




The Rose and the Bumble Bee

Love must have its tempest
Said the Bee to the Rose
Love must have its passions-harnessed
Before its midnights, close.

Yes, love must have its passion
Said the Rose to the Bee
Love must unburden of a fashion
If, it's ever to be free.

But isn't that loves, betrayal
Said the Bee to the Rose
Peering beneath; her petal veils
Before whisking on his toes.

Your love truly a tempest
Said the Rose to the Bee
But I'm the queen most; royalist
Sir—on this we'll both agree.

Love must have its tempest
And this is plain to see
Why passion's flame did bless
The Rose and the Bee.











< br>
Mother-nature

Mother-nature what is the essence of spring
Does father berate you turning back his sheets?
Does he wait in the wings with chilly deceits
Mother-nature you're waking up everything.

The dawn is rousing with birdsong and crickets
Hens are cluck, cluck, clucking once again
The farm dog is barking-mad in the thickets
And coppiced-boughs emerald in the woodland-fen.

Mother-nature what is all this foliage about
My ankles they're reddened by stinging nettles
And mountain, rivers are leaping with brown trout
Mother-nature, there's cherry, blossom petals:

Everywhere I walk; you're a good ten, steps ahead
The grounds covered in slugs and snails it looks
Like they're carrying picnic baskets on their head
Mother-nature—father is reading hymnbooks.

He wants to blanket the world in ice and snow,
Put a bookmark in this passage and embrace you.
But you're as skittish as a new-born lamb, so-
I ask for Sis Summer, "what's your overview".












Bolshoi Dancers
I believe the world is changing its core beliefs
It's moving from iron changing to a zinc alloy
It's now, moving from zinc alloys to a mercury core
And what's more, the temperature is rising
The temperature is rapidly-rising for sure
And what's more, potentially there is no guarantor.

No promise the Bolshoi dancers shall dance anymore
No, promise that the world will be here at all
To ballet dance on its axis
To figure skate like a dying black swan
Once, we're all dead and gone
Once, were drowned at the bottom of this mercury pond.


















Bubble Gum Pavements

City pigeons make street art under bridges
A Jackson Pollock, something organic.
It, could be Mural 1950s and look—here?
A bubble-gum pavement is this urban street art.
The pointillist canvas does it mimic the universe
And all that's still, to ‘comet' through there…?
I love all kinds of art but a dead carcass.
In formaldehyde stretches that to the limit.

I'd rather see some burnt-out Wreckage!
A car, where no-one got hurt or died.
I'd rather see pigeon excrements…
Then a human, anatomy, artist:
Using, someone's once living flesh and bone
I'd rather see bubble-gum pavements.
Then see this great, new modernistic art of nothing at all.










< br>





Colossal Choices

Open my heart, open my eyes
Prise-me-open like a mussel
I have grit, I've got, fire, passion…
Little else belies inside my shell
But my heart & soul they're colossal.

"I cannot undersell such a pearl"…

Not when countless others are misshapen
So give me all you've got, prince or frog
…Or else the deal is off null and void
And I'll head back to my grotto-gutted
Miserably empty and totally, annoyed.









< br>







The journey home

Aisle on aisle in them, church pews, going home
They hold their iPhone 7s like a prayer book
Bent in devotion switched to some—Om!
Haloed busses, baited on a fishhook
Each waiting for that vital uplink call
Is it the voice of God or just subtext?
I feel I'm not connected, less enthral…
I don't like iPhones at all—I'm perplexed
I haven't God, at my fingertips—my ear
And this isn't my church or Sunday school.
As a rule, I read a book some seer
A clear-eyed poet, prophet so I'm, uncool
I'm, inclined to sit, alone, quite detached
A vestibule, where God and I are, patched.









< br>







Without you

Energise my heart with a winning glance
If I were fain to look away, but glow
With every fibre of my being—I owe.
I would gaze at you with no more askance…
Then a flower does a gentle shadow
While wilting of thirst like a Pasque flower
For morning dew to enrich its power,
"You're starlight here" nothing can foreshadow.
Nothing native or common, about you
You're more graceful than the prairie crocus
Eyes on you, I hold the world in one breath
Eyes closed and the universe is in focus
All is fixed, in rightful place, life and death
They mean, totally nothing, without you.










< br>






Confession

Eve's lover comes to warm her with hot apple tea,
He brings the peppermint the acidity of lemon
She brings the honey, the vitamin C,
-He needs—he hands her over a piece of ripe heaven
At the core, all she wants is to bite this phial of venom.
And hear his deepest, darkest, confession
Forget all about fig leaves and noble, discretion.











< br>









The first whack of light

As a boy, I loved verdant virgin lands
The first whack of light peeking through the mist
Glistening-like a golden cloak sun-kissed
And nature's volume going through its radio bands
I loved wands of droplets weighted just so
The silent dew cannot enumerate -
Watching robin redbreast reverberate
His shrill bloated song to what do we owe -

This honour of your presence little friend
Why does the earthworm turn tail with the snail?
Does your red jersey; scold their eyes, offend.
As one kingdom ascend upon the vale
Another descends blind as a mole, a bat
Lucky am I in my bright habitat.









< br>







Cot Death

I dream so, oh so, so high of ye
Night and the soul, wilt rest
And raise me on an oncoming cloud
Aloft to my angel, my angel child
That winged my heart flutters with joy
I wish to bring ye young one home
And clothe thy bones with flesh and blood
But all I have is gone, my seed in the grave
Ye have flowered and died in the spring;
Our little-winged soul is ye lost. Like sheep
When I count my dying prayers and weep
Don't bleat child, don't bleat!
In the holy meadow, sleep, sleep, sleep
Until that time again we meet.

















Could You Image Just One Navajo Indian Tribe?

In the absence of any Law there
Was once upon a time order
Order without any crime, and
Loyalty and love without a penalty.
Can you imagine such a serene, springtime?
Could you image just one Navajo Indian Tribe?
Spinning & weaving, hunting and fishing,
Farming and growing, living and loving in relative peace
Bivouacking under buffalo hides
Gently, grinning ear to ear, with razor sharpened teeth
Teeth sharpened for indigenous decoration.
Not to start any hostilities, of course, I could be wrong…
Even predawn Eden may have been stillborn.











< br>






Did It Prevent Your Sun Kissed Dreams?

Father that sundial, is it death
Is it Father - the hand of death?
Is it the sword that cuts short a bird's flight?

'Child, we're all adjacent, the window of life.

The window of light

O' Father is it a guillotine
Does it covert our breath
O' Father how, much, time
Do we have? Left...

'Child, we're all adjacent, the window of life
Until the bird in your soul, takes flight'.

'Child, a question—answer your father this.
Did it prevent your sun-kissed dreams? Last night.'















Life-on-the-wind

Life-on-the-wind of a butterfly's wing
Moves hither and thither, if only we -
Could catch it, in essence like a sphinx
Placed in our palm and watch ourselves esprit
Find peace and rest, lapping up the brightest stars
Discover a lifestyle, without remorse.
In stillness—rest and find fulfilment blest
But life on these winds all hurly-burly
For each and every one, it is a test
To remain afloat always inexpertly
Learning how to steer a steady course
Hoping, one day our faith will be, reimburse.



















'Nothing like White Roses'
Hiding behind soiled curtains unknown
Some people behave like spiders
Living reclusive lives alone.
Never time for any outsiders
Aloof as fawn's and leprechauns
Nothing like white roses, hiding in the briars.

Often there's an underlining thorn
Where mental health issues
Went on bleeding lovelorn long ignored.
I remember a strange neighbour
Who wore his mother's old clothes
Ivy-clad all his windows and doors.

But for all my grown-up neighbours
Seeing him dishevelled became normal when doing their daily chores
So intrinsically as a child, I stayed away.
But I watched him this poor dishevelled man
Oh, how abnormal, subnormal-
Is he, what must he have suffered staying that way.

Never time for any outsiders
Aloof as fawn's and leprechauns
Nothing like white roses, poking through the briars.
He'd search bins, black oily skinned
I thought what could be ungodlier-
Then he, but what a warrior.

My heartfelt it could break
As I stared at him with my own,
Two eyes filled with helpless self-pride.
I never knew his name
It was never, spoken
But I got to know, some part of my own, shame.

I guess he died when I saw all that old ivy
Was slung, aside
His doors and windows visible opened to the skies.
He'd never time for any outsiders
Aloof as fawn's and spiders
Nothing like white roses, hiding in the briars.



Every Second an Eternity Prolongs

A face like chalk stoically cast
Hand on pane of leaded glass
Face peering in at times past
A stalker calls to harass.

She's not calling to post letters
She's outside looking in,
And you get to wearing fetters
Haunted, but not by boogeymen.

It's "written" she's not just beguiled
It's all because you're a superstar
That she wants to carry your child
And drive your latest new car.

She believes she has rights
She's imagined the whole wedding
The honeymoon & magazine rights
She's even picking out new bedding.

Now & again the doorbell is ringing
As she's singing one of your songs
You feel frightened the air is thinning
Every second an eternity prolongs.













When rivers run cold

When rivers run cold, it makes you wonder if they were ever warm
Why we ever went skinny-dipping, swam naked in a thunderstorm
When fires turn to ashes, it makes you wonder did they ever burn.
Why was the air sulphur every other silent nocturne?

When gentle words turn harsh, it makes you wonder what went wrong
Why we ever stayed, what happened to all that loving birdsong
When love, turns to hate it makes you wonder why we ever kissed
Why we ever [melted] only to freeze up like snow inside too cold to exist.

When your soul is left wondering where to go because your all alone
Is it time to rewrite another chapter, cross over that next stepping-stone
When your heart is like a wilting tulip is it time to close up and drop
Or is it time to rise anew and flower atop of all those others nonstop.

The healings of your heart and soul, don't let them rivers run cold or dry
There are fires eternal simple as a simple firefly no one else can see or classify
When words turn ugly hold out an olive branch and remember it isn't you
It isn't you, it isn't you, and remember, you can't be ever, subdued.

When rivers run cold, it makes you wonder if they were ever warm
Why we ever went skinny-dipping, swam naked in a thunderstorm
When fires turn to ashes, it makes you wonder did they ever burn.
Why was the air sulphur every other silent nocturne?

Just remember it isn't you. It wasn't you, you, built a fire
You were sent here to be a beautifier.










Love unperturbed

Regrets are best, left to smoulder
As ashes in the grate, undisturbed
Yes, now they'll burn without closure
But that's how love grows, unperturbed.

Gentle puffs of air once rightly directed
Can rekindle fires—thought long dead.
Let nought in your heart; be neglected
Once; a well-placed, spark turns infrared.

If you've some dying flame in your heart
Already a fire to spark and burn,
You'll touch some heat, residual not dark
Unearthed, paint a starry, Nocturne.

But like wet oil, fresh on a canvas
Still to be stretched, permanently, fixed.
You'll be glad you left ochre ashes-
Of regret to burn fully-eclipsed.

As a measure of the sunrise
Shining, glowing right through you—now
So later coldly you can summarise
Embers fervour, dying with own two eyes.

A love unperturbed with no regrets
Let it burn, simmer in its flames
A part of your old life vignettes-
Escapades turned blue in old campaigns…










Sleeping with the doves in paradise (song)

Not everybody eats cornmeal bread
Not everybody needs a silver spoon.
Subsidence is whatever leaves you fed, half-filled
Whatever you've got, you've learned to survive.

Not everybody cares about a leaky roof or shoe
Whatever they've endured somehow makes them more.
Not everybody howls cries at a full moon
Some live their life as a pure joy in the Garden of Eden.

Not everybody, not everybody has a picket fence, a front door.
A vaulted place to keep things in store
A prayer a voice trembling on an autumn leaf about to fall
A whisper is a meadow of skylarks and a dream still fading
Not everybody wants to be captains and kings.

Not everybody has a place for harps and violin strings
Not everybody seeks applause and praise, as proof
Not everybody needs a fairy tale a frog prince
There are those with almost two, full good hearts-

Living their days like Sundogs, in the shadows.
Without a bed or a blanket just, glad to be alive.
Sleeping like drifting clouds, with the doves in paradise.
Stretched out like rainbows, wherever it rains, and
And bends the wheat; without, breaking.












Nefertiti

Amidst the golden hues of some far off temple
A woman bathes in radiance all her own,
Stands alone, like she's just returned home.
No doubt she is a tourist, escaping reality,
Her books and pens have all been, set aside
There are to be no more revisions, she smiles.

Her auburn hair is flung forward not back
Over her bare shoulders with such confidence.
Now it's me who's the tourist intrigued by
This Goodreads, authoresses, profile photo
Visiting thoughts, you wouldn't necessarily
Find in some far off pillar, Egyptian temple.


















Semisweet

We're only sometimes, semisweet; hmm
I wish we could encounter that honeybee
Under the dappled, shade of His apple tree.
And meet only at the core - but alas again.

Autumn holds our goods in store; so we preserve
Sing like blossom trees insatiable - blithely.
… Last out these long winters tentatively,
In springtime eat our royal jelly reserve.

The cold touches my nape as harsh words
Their wintery blasts sees windblown fruits fall
In the end, good-seasons return my call
We're dipping into flowers with hummingbirds.

We're sitting on mossy boughs holding hands
Watching April clouds roll and dissipate
I kiss, her cheeks, she blushes red I expiate -
I'll do things right at my core for her pangs.















The Taste of Cyanide

What can he "resist" he's just a feeble man
Who leers at all the ladies, big & small?
Tall or short, a scoundrel he likes them all.
—He quit smoking, but like a boomerang
He returns again and again because,
Because he enjoys each long pungent, kiss
The taste of cyanide burning his lips
That gamble of not pulling the short straws.

What can he "resist" he's just a feeble man
Down the pub, necks as many as he can
He's what many might call a journeyman,
s his mug all over Instagram
Thinks he's the bee's knees from a bygone age.
A likeable chap some mothers might say
But won't settle down, gone too far astray
His looks are fading, longings disengage.

What can he "resist", on the homeless list?
Not those free soup kitchen meals, a blanket
Not those coins tossed aside on his jacket
Nor the knife at his throat, where men subsist.
What can he "resist" he's just an ex-serviceman
Done his best for queen & country, one time!
—Now praying to survive the winter time
Find a warm bed, quit smoking, drink his last Dram.












Barbarity all around me

There is barbarity all around me
And although I close my tired leaden eyes
I can't close my heart make it a detainee
My soul, I can't make it naturalise.
There are times, bloodhounds baying at my door
Stop, stop their howling go, play, hide and seek
And like a tortured ravenous carnivore
They go cold, hungry and morally weak.
… In human clothes; I can be cruel
Leave my cage and join that pack, bloodthirsty
Eyes open, hard and frozen burning fuel
Is this life just somehow perfunctory
I don't know where these feelings, come from
But all this barbarity makes me numb.


















Tom McEnroe's Last Sabbath

The Sabbath had its special place in his Irish heart
A man of very few words & an early riser…
Never late for church, always dressed his best, really, smart.
…A whiff of pipe tobacco to this eulogizer—

Fine, but to a criticiser a pungent crime:
He died of shingles—grandfather—it's many years since
In his early 90s, but I still remember—wintertime!
His braving, snow & ice, tying-boots curtailing winces.

He was fearful of cold weather and fearful for his health
But he had faith a widower he'd his convictions
Promises to keep, heart & spirit in moral wealth
His Lord would see to that whatever his afflictions.

Under his flat cap, he kept a hearty smile a grin
Like a quarter slice of an apple, rosy pink cheeks
Hair white and yellow like the rind of a lemon skin
He was chesty when he chuckled in those little squeaks.

As a young boy, I never asked, but would wonder why—
His wife, my mother, her sister wasn't by his side
Didn't they care about his beliefs & what could belie
Their dereliction of duty three times amplified.

The Sabbath had its special place in his Irish heart
One time I went to church, my role as support—
Worker—with a client whom I did dress very sharp
Later, at home, I inhaled pipe tobacco, a whiff, a snort.

I believe he visited my sleep, proud that I'd been?
Leaving me again the smells of the resin—woodbine.
I woke to remember that evening of the Sabbath
Incense burning, at home & the sound of hosannas.







Joy jumps heart to heart

From heart to heart
like a grasshopper.
But all I need do is but hover
over zenith green-tips of dew.

All I need do' is but dance
above His skies grey purlieu
to feel His rainbows lance
and not feel blue.

All I need do' is but touch wings
with His mirror-ball awnings
His unworldly, light!
'Then learn heaven is truly-bright.

All I need learn is to be still…
Like a grasshopper
He can but net at will
Clasp in His palms prayer
Our sinful souls free of sin forever














In prayer did I hear a hum?

In prayer did I hear a hum?
Loud as any drum
With what measured breath did it weigh?
The probity-of-this another day
The incline of this my decay

Faiths emphatic leap
The deities of men the ungodliness of snakes
Love in its mortal coils heap.
Motionlessly, kneeling, frequently asleep
Only momentarily, awake.

Like a cricket at the gate
Ready to jump blindly into fate.
In prayer did I hear a hum?
Loud as any, drum.

















What Do You Want With Me?

You're god-like sir & I am a pint sized lizard
A chameleon with many personalities tinctured
What do you want with me?

I can barely hold my head above the quicksand
You, yourself, walk-on-water not just dryland
What do you want with me?

Don't you see I am a poor man, a poor-imitation?
Spiritually I'm homeless, of non-denomination
So, what do you want with me?

How say thou art, my lord & my saviour?
If true, sir you'll forget my many misbehaviours
Come now, sir, what do you want with me?

I'm but an insect a cricket with a song or two
Yet-sirs you want my song, although many times
I'm as ugly in looks & melody, as a marabou stork.











< br>



A Moment of Truth

Every day is a kind of 'what if' kind of day.
But 'what if' today were a different kind
Of 'what if' kind of day 'what if' this day,
Happened to be you're final 'what if'
Kind of day, would you do anything differently.

Forget those commitments
And there long dead ideology,
What would you do - differently?
Be selfish - come now be serious
Would you leave the sick and lame?
Would you toast that dying minute?
For a seconds worth of selfish, fame.

Or would you earnestly,
Just carry on… all the same.

















How can I

How can I square the four corners of her heart with my world?
How can I cross deserts without water to wet my thirst my throat?
How can I defy gravity if I'm not catapulted or whirled?
How can I climb all those mountainous terrains without a rope?
How can I find heaven if I'm living in some underworld
How can I sail all these seas and oceans without a boat
How can I survive the infernos of these smoky settings blurred?
If I'm not selflessly devoted to every word spoken she emotes
That says she loves me; she loves me only unreserved.




















With a song delicate

With a song delicate as scented air
Wish I could betroth a flower so, rare
Join in with the bee's buzzing mad
Tasting their love for honey, forbad.























Ablutions

What's it take to cleanse a polluted river?
Takes Mountains and mountains bother
Takes a hard-bed a soft silt bed sister
That's why silver and gold are so pure
They burned in the suns highest summit
Ablutions were, discovered in that plummet
That's what-it-takes for a virgin or a whore
That's what-it-takes to cleanse, procure
A body of water another sees, effulgent.











< br>







Top Hat & Tails

My mother & father fought day & night
But they made a hat with cardboard & glue
They measured my head & were erudite
This accomplishment, of their love, shone through.

To me who had more than just a few doubts
I slept right through it all and then came school…
The very next day Hat on, they recounts
My hat had won the show, yes, this was, cool.

"Oddest-thing-is" I don't recall wearing it.
I don't recall going to school at all…
All I remember is seeing the skip-
& joy in their proud hearts, still so, enthral.

As they recapped the story, late one night
Describing how they saved their silver foil.
A "40 a day habit, " I guess they'd to light,
Buy more packs, hadn't they heard of Tinfoil.









< br>




The Artist's Restorative

The visions of Pablo Amaringo
Transport us to magical wonderlands
It's like oil & water had amazing-
Hypnotic properties & I expands.

Ayahuasca art resonates with me
But it's short-lived, too hectic for my pleasure
Like some hallucinogenic—saree
The real beauty lies within its nectar.

… That went about healing the painter's soul.
For me, there is a stiller-reflexion
In those water lilies - powers - enthral
Monet canvases, each flower a brethren.

Each blue eggshell brush-stroke heals like a balm;
Such are the properties of great artists
That they can find within to such aplomb,
A composure arriving, some solace.

They've got this almost restorative knack
Of lifting our tired, beleaguered spirits
The poet, speaking tongues elegiac;
Doesn't he do the same, sweet and viscous?











< br>
Redemption

"Redemption" does it come with a sell-by date
if it does; I fear I'm already too late.

See I've - done my bit of blasphemy disrespectfully
but I've turned over a new leaf - oddly.

So, I query my past transgressions in earnest:
I've made many mistakes & was never ablest.

Does "redemption" have its own, lock and key?
I know the jailer looking in the mirror is me.

A two edge sword is each personality;
forgiveness is a fine, bottled, whisky.

Once you open it, you want to drink it dry,
limits forgot then your ego, you espy.

Like sailors after an arduous journey,
on their shore leave winking at the honey's going by.

I ask myself is it a port in a storm
ah, "redemption" why does it, leave me lukewarm.

I guess I don't have it, and never will
walk in the straight path of this obscure treadmill.












Roses are on fire

A river of stars
A bed of roses still in bud
We're but water lilies
Learning to be rainbows
With comet ribbons of light.

Where a thorn of passion cuts
Bled itself out red in the valleys.
I find lust is my ground-blanket
But it's always bitterly cold
Black ashen as a moonlit cloak.

I long to kiss the earth
Be one day returned to the dust
The smoke that engines a star
To glow red and orange
I long to be another solitary-seed.

Waiting for its roots to cleave
Cut a blade of green corn
But I'm like a phoenix born
Without any feathers
Looking lost, mystified back at you.

Roses are on fire
Tears perspire—I choke
I wither on the vine
Always faithful, without true-faith
Isn't it time this star my star collapsed.

And joined a river of sand
Ah, quicksand isn't he, my companion
He's filled the chambers of my sky,
He's filled life, my lungs I no longer
Remember, how once I could cry.







Bittersweet

How weary, a foot can be, placed
One following another
Each one a brother slightly splayed
One following another
But never, truly together!

How, easily can a mind be spliced
Torn roughly apart
Like a peach from its stone—sacrificed.
Ripped roughly apart
But never, with a total, disregard.

How tiresome, a heart can beat
Breath after breath
Not finding a moments breath replete
Breath after breath
Brimming, full but yet full of conceit.

Heavy like golden ears of wheat
We hang our heads
As if life were something obsolete
We hang our heads
Thou others are no less bittersweet.








< br>



Mrs Robinson

She's got more decades and experience
On her than style, but she can still beguile
With a little curl of a smile, you're a doting
Fool, fresh out of college out of high school.

She could even be the real Anne Bancroft
Playing the role of a neglected housewife
Shall I call you, Mrs Robinson and boast…
How I hung my clothes on your bedpost.

Her seduction is a heady damask fragrance
A mix that fills both lungs, unrepentant…
With enigmatic looks, she's so, bewitching
Shame for Benjamin Braddock she's married
And a little boa snake, airways constricting.
















The carpenter's hands

The carpenter's hands are bleeding blood
His hearts a house made of sandalwood
He carves & smooth's it to fit a tawdry groove
A dovetail joint he shares with you. And, you approve.

But still you complain his soul; it has a splintered-
Stairwell, where nothing ever is newly charted.
You say he gazes with knotted eyes spiralling outward
Into a space of stars, sawdust sutured.

His carpenter's hands are bleeding blood
His forefathers' arms cradled in a love-of-dust
He is now at a distance from the sharp end of the plane.
If only he could, uproot, uncouple one carriage of this thought train
Derail the distance in that discontentment, love, once again.

But still you complain; his work has no honesty?
Or shame, she cries like a gull, whose ocean has no-sea-wave.
His hearts a house made of sandalwood
Is but flotsam; is but some malnourished driftwood.

A splintered
-stairwell, where-nothing-ever is ever newly sculptured.











Poetry in motion

We're all poetry in motion in God's hands
"Aren't you a poet"? I am if God made me.
The body of butterflies is damn ugly,
But with glowing wings, their beauty expands.

We're not two or three dimensional
We've got a fourth & fifth; do you get my gist
There is something very intentional
Something special makes us exist.

And yet remains purposeful and unclear
Every life radiant with its own, music
Follows its own, drum beat, each balladeer
Comes, composed of grace own acoustics.

If a rock crumbles to sand - composedly
Turned to crystal glass, can't you apprehend?
We're all poetry in motion in God's hands
"Aren't you a poet"? I am if God made me.

With glowing wings, my beauty too expands
Flies in the face of many hopeless demands
Guess the music in me wasn't really, mine
Like an orchestra, everything intertwines.








< br>



Unconditional Love

Every being on earth wants unconditional love
But their egos are like ebony, tough as old-larch
Their resin is a volatile, turpentine; thereof-
Unyielding nought like a soft dripping, willowy arch.

But there are those the pulp of which has love in their hearts.
Can paper-Mache some the cracks—be charitable!
Show some Christian love; they are like the old, ancient guards
Souls, which did pass on through before—unpalatable.

Suffering themselves softened, ensuring a balance
-of compassion & benevolence; that's absolute.
But for the most part folks, there is this counterbalance
Some middle ground. Most—aren't made of teak, jute.

These cloths are fibrous, but that's how we soften-to-silk
Our own, metal is, planished, our sharpest edges rubbed smooth
By charitable acts, meanness turns to buttermilk
& the milk of human kindness moves on & imbues.














I see it's a journey just to hang around

Never wanted a shadow any drama following
Never wanted anything fake - how disappointing
Never wanted ever-to-be washed, be baptised
Never wanted to fall out of love or be reconciled.

Never wanted to chastise a child or become angry
Never wanted money beyond having a full granary
Never wanted to break a heart, hurt a living soul
Never wanted to be that bully, demanding control.

Never wanted to miss a sunrise, become a sloth
Never wanted to break a promise or an oath
Never wanted this pensive sadness this melancholy
Never wanted depression or to resemble a zombie.

Never wanted to attempt to take my life abandon God
Never wanted to be buried or my ashes in a coffee-pot
… Now I'm here I see it's a journey just to hang around
At times life can feel like a commit hurtling inbound.

But now I'm so happy to be here close to you
Forgetting who I am, what I've been, without you.
Never wanted a shadow any drama following
But now I'm with you nothing is too imposing.

My body sighs; it's singing I'm grateful for all of this…
I'm-grateful for the moonlight each starlit abyss
When I look into your eyes and feel our fault lines
Touch and collide, it's-like-everything has to crystallise.








< br>
My daily prayer

Worse treatment than animals in abattoir stockades
Soldiers have fallen into the hands of butchers
They've been maimed, tortured & have suffered
They've lost limbs but in the fullness of time?
Met challenges head-on slew their old demons
Ultimately by God's grace, faith beats each enemy.

These fearsome fighters refuse to be, enslaved
These men & women have felt ripsaw-bullets
Burning and exploding grenades
And at low-ebb become our greatest heroes.
Rehabilitation prepares them for healing inroads
Without hatred or hubris, millstones, but hang-on.

Our forthright defenders have financial worries
Like anyone else jobs-housing is needed not charity
Ex-military needs help to forge a sustainable future.
Wars fought for our homeland protect the mainland
It takes a will of iron, at great personal expense
It takes strength & courage to defend the weak.

To guard, shield them from tyrants, criminals
There's no winner in these hard-fought battles
That-friend can only be, flag-waving-vanity
Right now definitely, let's not boast or despair
Let's hope optimism & peace prevails everywhere
Win's by all means fair. That's my daily prayer.









Ba boons

A baboon has a stern sideways glance
An air of indignation like an Indian
Railway-guard at a busy train station.

I see baboons, groom each other
Then wonder why one doesn't groom me
Don't I deserve ticks fleas bitten off me?

Baboons they are simply fascinating
Either from the front or behind:
How did we get talking about baboons?

I do not know, but let us not be unkind
Just in case there is one, one-of-a-kind
I don't want to hurt their feelings too deeply.

Coz-baboons wear the same expression
It's human too, I, don't care who you are
You'll see it when they smash up your car.

Baboons, baboons, baboons
I see them daily going to work fed up
Squinting with a look that says what the f***.











Bridges We Can Admire

Be brothers strong steadfast as that stone bridge?
Strong as that bridge at Blackwater; Fermoy,
Co. Cork in dark, turbid times it's a stint
Not to teeter or fall to the seafloor.

Remaining firm footed day in day out
It's a brawl against the tide to be sure;
Bridges we can admire sitting in dark stout
Fools toppled over—might as well be manure.

Wake up sonny boy, pull yourself together
Let's head back to the pub and sink some more
That's sound advice, but it's hard to weather
When, rapidly your world is sinking, offshore.


















The world is corrupt

The world is corrupt
And wants to corrupt
Everything it touches tonight!
We get squished, squashed
We get crushed
We are hit by falling boulders
Good is always swimming hard uphill
Against all oncoming currents, tides
Good is subsistence, God is deliverance
Life-lived on nothing but hope
Is like having holes in your shoes
But you have a reef of dope
Blowing your brains

But like flowers on baron soils
They're often at their most beautiful
Squished, squashed, crushed
And undernourished
You can find they're even twice as kind
The world is corrupt
And wants to corrupt
Everything it touches tonight!
But if it's filled with your love
That's fine, you can blow my mind
Cos when I'm broken, I will heal twice as kind
Good is subsistence, God is deliverance
Darling you are meek and mild
And then just evil meanness, all the time.











Rough sleeping

So many doorways
So many children
Where is the thinking
It can go on ignored

Why aren't they safeguarded?
What is their mental condition?
Why all these negative the supposition
They take drugs
They are drunks
They are tramps

Giving is easy and saves lives
But isn't it all so prolonging these lies
And allowing our governments
To disseminate more divisions

Without making policies to help
It continues to be normalised
So what are laws like "safeguarding" for?
If it isn't for the destitute
The mentally ill,
Or those rough sleeping in a shop door on the floor.

If this were a World War
And that frozen sleeping bag swaddled body
Was a victim of war?
I guess there would be an outpour of help
Not just when it is -4 °C
Let's get them off the floor until the thaw.

In so many doorways
So many of our nation's children line the street
Where is the town planning the thinking?
Can it go on being ignored?
Looking on, watching our leaders
Rule with might of sword
What is happening, my gentle Lord.






The white elephant

After the lotus blossom flowered
The white elephant floats out of her sepals
Seven days later, Queen Maya died.
The white elephant he doesn't mix well jackals

He doesn't witness death, hunger or sickness
Not until he was in his mid to late twenties
Not until he wanders outside the palace walls
Witnesses' person suffering in their dying eddies.

Does he question his own, mortality?
Now faced with a man's dead severed skull
The white elephant contemplates his own, death?
How can an emancipated body like a lotus unfurl.

Find spiritual harmony, enlightenment
How can one reach a state of true Nevada?
After some six years of profound hardship
He was no closer to understanding finding karma.

Not until he sat meditating under the Bodhi Tree
Many days, not until he was shown a middle way
Did he find what he was searching for?
Never would he be born again, be anyone's protégé.

He found a peace in the blossoms of his own, serenity
Where the petals of the Bodhi tree rained on his brow
He found explanation that explained everything
The dream his mother had was after all like the Tao.










< br>New Year, Starting From Tonight
Let's hope this New Year brings us closer
Let's hope it closes the distance the fissure
Let's hope it mends those broken fences
Let's hope it bridges all those gaps.

Let's hope this New Year heals us all
Let's hope it's filled with love and friendship
Let's hope it's a shining example to our kids
Let's hope it kick-starts your heart, starting tonight.

Let's hope this New Year has a resolution
Let's hope that, resolution lasts beyond our lives
Let's hope everyone has fought their last fight
Let's hope we can build a better future.

Starting right-now one second, after midnight.
Starting right-now let's make the future bright.
No use thinking good times are impending,
Let's all make it happen, starting from tonight.











< br>


Life Is What?
Life is what? A ball of clay
Punched and softened
Spun around and moulded
Kiln baked every single day
Till its final shape is, fashioned
Or it cracks and explodes—
It's in your hands how it's finished
How it's used and glazed
Every pot is made, with love
But not all vessels contain it.
Some flaws we can work upon
Others are too ingrained.
All pots will be made clay again
It's the way of every container
It's the way of every retainer
That everything put in, took out is, repaid.











< br>




My garden was a roadside paradise

My garden was a roadside paradise
A picture perfect postcard-prairie
My garden was a slice of my personality
Always trying to be, at its, very best.
But my lovely garden isn't love-blessed
Sadly there's a cuckoo perched on my breast
Who's decided I should be dispossessed.
Now bindweed does its best to be caressed
But I can always make another garden
All I need is some dirt with a bit of
Sweetness; all I need is a spade, sharpen
I can't be too disheartened my love.
Every garden starts from a dustbowl
It just needs caring for someone to cajole.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 25, 2016

Poem Edited: Tuesday, March 20, 2018