Wandering man dreams of a place
with no demands yet no disgrace
with nice clean sheets, a fragrant pillow,
Wills that bend around like willow
...
Shining black moon
Thrilled with teeth
Come to our shores
Of gold and grief
...
Beloved tools unstirred
They are strangers
Brushes, pencils, pens
Erased from my picture
...
The Ballad of Mary and Chappie
She was wandering whitehaired clutching her lead
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Faces bow In days unknowing
Gaze upon a virgin sheet
Smileys in a snowstorm glowing
Painting lips which never meet
...
Dear Old Stick! !
Images of Derek with his stick
A gentleman with touch of royal chic
...
Market Day in Ely city
Busking, business clink and clatter
...
A spell a spell was cast on me
Turned to stone and apathy
I sit I sit like lifeless slate
Layers of crumbling on my plate
...
Some things are said without saying
But sadly a few never said
A word which is painful in coming
Can get lost in the thoughts of your head.
...
I sit by the cliffs at the foot of the hills
The sea ambles in
While the river infills
Gulls are but dashes in mist
...