Smoke &

Some people sleep

Some people are alone

Some hold hands

& have their pictures taken 

By friends with mobile phones

These are not deep thoughts

For as he poked fun

Her smile at once turned to stone

These are slight reliefs, & as such

They carry my now familiar drone

This place, a fairly regular keep

The leap of faith peeps

From poetry to surrealist art

A neap tide to set aside 

All ideas of an infinite space

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Couplets

A cold breeze

Blows over my sweaty body

Is this the time

To write of philosophy

Should one always

Cling on to love

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Over and Out

Pour in on oneself

Pour out of oneself

Good wine, fine music

Poetry of the instants

As if a sickness

A relief

Fed over the body

Fed through the mind

As one day I might say it

Say it with such ease

That neither I nor you

Would know it

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Realism (Not Magic)

I sit on a curved bench

Look towards the turbine hall

Listen to the echoed screams

Of a solitary child, set free to roam

I will take this home

Insert quite a pause, just here

Afterwards, to reflect

Upon a passage of my life

Ever so definitely finally closed

At the dark end of the chamber

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Infinitely Small Spaces

I queue for Kusama

Take time out

To be covered in spots

With the force of Tsunami

Tales of a bedroom

Without a door

A viral army of incidental notes

Lumps in the throat

Your love moved on

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Wait & Wake

The woman who our intuition tells us will 

look back, and who never actually existed

Pessoa

All those words of tight black dresses

As he drifts into other consciousness

Cars that roll down hills

To cross the stream at the forge

In another room 

The boy sleeps

Utters tired words on being woken

All denominations are here

Thousands of untold dreams

Sit at the breakfast tables

For the writer it is the time to wait

Luxuriate in her hurtful absence

Selfless of his own existence

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Room 309

I have bathed
I listened to the sweet violin
I have read a little of Fernando Pessoa

If I was to call it sadness
Would I have to waiver more clear
If I was to call it peace
Would you crave at the veneer

That I can say it is tiredness
Is that a dearer message to wire
For do we not all feel tired
With much of life still to acquire



from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Given Words

I cannot read

More than one page at a time

The concentration is not with me

Instead I look east, or west

To blue grey skies

To pink and golden sunsets

Further south, small fluffy clouds

Wisps of joy for my feeble mind

Through the flat fields of East England

Farmlands; diggers dig new ditches

Beyond the grain store a smokestack

Beyond the straw bales a chapel

Our shadows speed over the stubble

Dusks gentle conversation is calming

The sun on the last day she gave me

Hope that there will always be hope

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Bile

Sickness that follows death

Doubts in place of certainties

Sourness in the once sweet soul

Words spit out; no more so softly spoken

But tomorrow we’ll be singing

Yes tomorrow we’ll all be singing

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Why? Is it because

All that stuff

About falling in love

& breaking up

Lah de lah de lah

All those times of waking up

Beneath the crescent moon

Some sunny day in June

Lah de lah de lah

Why? Is it because

All the rough

Of making up

From broken love

Lah de lah de lah

Thank the Lord above

For clear blue skies

& raking up the past

Lah de lah de lah

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Fireplay

Each turn turns a smile

Playful with precision

Reasonable indecision

Beside harbored doubt

Every hour, every day

Flowers and unfortunate

Scours were praised in our

Songs heartfelt to empower

Each hope turns on hope

Decayed by days of derision

Unreasonable prohibition

Sold our sensations short

Every sour word spoken

Some token of loss, lost flames

The old fires of burning desire 

Retired out of the embers

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Confidence

His name was

No I would rather protect his identity

It could have been Kirsty or Eileen

Holly or Darren or Imogen

But it was

No everyone ought to be allowed privacy

It could have been Sarah or Alexander

David or Peggy

Yet it was he who thought

He could outwit Dara O’Brian

Small stage

Bright lights

Haze of smoke

Loud conversation

He walked on stage well enough

Smiled at the audience

Made to start talking

Then he froze

Not a word

Not a single word

Mute

Not a word

But he stood still

He stood still and firm

Still not a word

But he stood still

He stood still and firm

Someone started laughing

Then cheering began

His silence had them in fits

He turned to leave the stage

“Your go Dara” he said

With a thumbs up to the crowd

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Arrival

It started light, windy, grey but not overcast

The sort of day no one would particularly choose to be born on

It turned into a dark blue starlit sky

With a breeze, that ruffled the sea; along the bay

Festoons of coloured lights reflected off the waves

It was the sort of peace, tranquility, and expectant joy

That absolutely everyone would have chosen to be born into

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Be Unique

That’s it

I’ll write jokes about sheep

Dara was talking to himself in the barn

The next farm was over a hundred kilometres away

Not many farmers then to laugh at Dara’s sheep jokes 

& as a ten year old

No way to move around those lonely arable lands

Eight years later Dara heard The Beatles on his university radio

That’s it

I’ll write jokes about The Beatles

Forgetting that that was John Lennon’s job

There you have it

Dara’s job was taken already

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Sand Dirt Girl

I stroke the drum

Stroke so softly

As though it was your lips

Where my fingers were walking

My hopes there are roaming

Soaking so slowly

To  keep there the hoping

Bemoaning the undercover of love

I hear out for the whispers

Quiet so slow as though

The door may one day open

Upon your calling voice

My thoughts there choking

Revoking so lonely

To hang on to my stone

Heart hopeless lover of love

I hunger for the aroma of flowers

Fragrant flowers

As sure as the perfume spray

Of all our yesterdays

My arms sway,

After the way your intent

Descended upon my vine

Signed itself lonesome of love

In the hour to press 

I test the taste of love

Impress the cotton on my teeth

Seethe to tear this grip of grief

My aura disturbs with disbelief

The hurt that stole the sweetness

Thereof, the neatness inside

Your secret sheaths of love

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Happy

I take my time to wake

Escape from the work life

That I have no desire to chase

Instead to trace my fingers

Around your face

In those old photograph albums

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Confused by one

It wasn't easy

I think you used the word wobbly

So how to think you didn't give a shit

Think on it enough to write it down

There's duplicity for you

Step forward, step back, open neither wallet

Pretend to steer well clear of evangelising

State what was once passion is as good as gone

It wasn't, it isn't about being easy

I think we used the word civilised

So why now don't you give a shit

At least you give out that appearance

There's the Cupid stupidity

Eyes right, eyes left, open either heart

With presence to mean it deep, empathetically

Shown love, her fairest gift, one that endless shone

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Days Passed

Between my birthday

& my sons birthday

My sister passed away

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

I am again at the sculpture park

This time to remember my sister Patricia who passed away today.

One by one the four of us will fall; three brothers (Jack, Christopher, Leslie) but first our sister Patricia

The grey, blue, pink and silver skies move along, just as we will move along; that highlight of skies brilliance serves as the tears for each of us; today the clouds open for Patricia

It is my younger brother Leslie who was by her side at the end, he and his wife Linda are our families pillars of strength. In his youth Leslie was Pat's favourite, today he more than ably repays some of that favouritism, my thanks go to Leslie and Linda

There was war in Yugoslavia when I took time to remember my mother, today as I remember Pat Europe is in a financial crisis, world stuff and family stuff, each with their own ongoing collisions.

Mum passionately wanted Pat cared for, her wish came true, throughout her life Pat has had wonderful care, and given innocent, loving, yet forthright responses in return. Those who cared for Pat loved her enough to take this in good heart. There love is something our family can never be grateful enough for.

Life needs the colour of people like my sister Patricia. The world would benefit from more of her kind of honesty. More of her kind if love.

Pat didn't need a sculpture park, she could walk for miles in and among the natural countryside of the Holme Valley, as she often did with her friend Colin in tow.

Pat was great at showing gratitude, the little bird box I gave her for her 60th birthday was received with such open joy, yes more of Pats qualities are needed.

I am rambling now. I think it's time just to be thankful and celebratory. Today let's cry, and laugh for my sister Patricia, just as my mum laughed, and cried at Cinderhills as they got ready together for a family wedding.

Thank you all for coming.

Walk to a Red Telephone Box

Each step

Down the hill 

A step of deceitful betrayal

Each step

Down the hill

Under a moon of fascination

Moons and hills

On occasion out of balance

A soul lost to the valley 

In deep desperation

Fascinations and betrayals

His souls shallow weights

Streams that form

In shades and clearings

Of human scale

Find their way

To fast flowing rivers

Recent times flood plains

Hills and valleys

Land bound

Far from sand or sea

Open for enchantments

By a soul once thought of

As both distant, and free

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Vales

In that quiet hour

Sat in a place founded

On innocent foundations

An easy mind to scour

Thoughts gallop unbounded

Through vales of gentle undulations

At one with the eternal flower

All flights of fancy eventually grounded

Rounded to more sensitive premonitions

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

The Breakout

I want to empty all the boxes

Paste everything on the wall

I want to run barefoot with the foxes

Write made-up stories ten feet tall

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Slit

The small square window

Lets in

A brilliant white light

As though one

Had opened

A door onto the sun

The thin rectangular

Window beneath

Is dark grey, almost black

As if one had looked into

The bottomless cavern

Of ones childhood

The cactus on the cill

Tells us

That there is still life

That it is fed

In the times

Of both dark and light

As if we were in need

Of both extremes, and

The continuum between

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Elide

Minus eight degrees

Sky clearer

Than the blue nothingness of infinite bliss

Alongside, a thin strip of finite horizon

The brightest, most brilliant white light, as though

An illicit affair would be any less exiting

Quiet highways

Open their floors before me

Fringed with snow and frost

The worlds trees form the shape of weeping willows

Their untarnished beauty as innocent

As the first fantastic secretive date

In the roadside diner

Hash browns, eggs over easy

Pancakes with maple syrup, before the open roads

Endless travels: sublime distant peaks for guidance

Suggestions of the calmness that came after

The rampant excitement of our first consummation

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Friday Nights

At the top of the house

Above the poetics of space

At a high level with the

Self consciousness

Several floors down to the

Cellars of the unconscious

One attraction, back-along (There were several)

Anyway

Those times between

The window and the wardrobe

When we shared an apparent

Belief in things other than

The rational explanations

Mystifications, swung-along (They where ephemeral)

Our craved fascinations

Which carried the gravitas

Of irrational thought, yet

Required a leap of faith

& called upon desire

To drown her taboos

Simplification, strung-along (I recall the existential & seminal)

Close your eyes

Hold my hand

Think deeply

Go on

Say it

I know exactly what you are thinking

Without complication, down-along (We transferred the memorable)

You

Pick up the telephone

Before the ring tone rings

I

Sing out loud about the joy

Of interstellar communication

Thankful resuscitation, sing-along (We bathed in the questionable)

Warm oils massaged into skin

Listen to - The Amazing Eyes of Rita

Again alone

Though never now alone

Smiles hold, as I turn the final pages

I thank Rollo May for his inspirational book

Man’s Search for Himself (I crave for the suggestion-able)

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Aloft

Only the light of the lava lamp

As I listen to the plucked strings of the lute

Only to know that sleep is still some time away

I say that this writing is my beautiful consolation

Easy to be at ease

While one reaches to the past and to the future

Easily to find escape

From the dark stares of the present

An appeasement not shared

By those not so restful as this one

Relatives perturbed with their pasts

Stormed by heir presents and their futures

I have prepared my own stabilisation

I give it with some confidence to others

I have cathartically worked through millions of words

& still I will always give you the same sad or happy stories

A thousand times or more

Yet always with a misinformed tinge of hope

That one day there may be a reconciliation

Always in the fear of that dash of colour

A deep red rose on the shiny black suit

Also a slice of inferred beauty

In the V neck turquoise sweater

Over an inviting sunburnt breast

Always because we have to settle

I pose with a sense of tranquility

The calm sea to the clear horizon

Always, if able 

I would aim at a hint of playfulness

Such as with the sailboats in the harbour

Yet always in truth I edge towards escapism

For none of us do return, yet some day one of us might

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Plastic Film

There is a photograph

Somewhere in existence

I am the principle subject

Sat quietly, at a kitchen table

It is a small cottage

The afternoon sun filters

Through the high level windows

Past a pair of cockatiel's

The painter’s palettes

Are in a black fold away tin

The water colour painting

Is on a hardboard sheet

My black stonewashed sweatshirt

Is a gift; made in Australia

So the shark logo on the sleeve

Would have you believe

Thin auburn air, and a steady

Stance suggests a gentleness

An innocence that the photographer

Captures with simplistic empathy

All else is lost in my minds articles

Although I do think of orange flowers

I also have an idea of a feint wash

That created a turquoise background

I tell you this in response to another 

Image; from elsewhere in my existence

Where birds are freed from their cage

In search of those self same freedoms

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Mystified by the Journey

I'm still inclined

To frieze my mind

With her favoured pictures

I'll find the time

With ease designed

As if it was the scriptures

Plain as day 

We stayed away

Called ourselves the victors 

Though with feet of clay

I held back her sway

Now all that's left are the strictures

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Lush

Heavenly to write of touch

Rushes of times when such stuff

As transference or lapping waves

Met on the sun blessed beach

Faith to care for futures much

Exalted hopes honed good enough

For Neapolitan throws, or slow

Walks off the boardwalk out of reach

Presence then to talk in tongues

Of colours, scents and textures crushed

To feel the velvet worn with razored silk

As the forlorn son of man with lust impeached

Heavenly to write of either in the ether

Flushes of times reminded, hushed voices

That floated free on the Pyrenean breeze

Soft words squeezed hidden by the lovers breach

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Aged

We don't have those faces anymore

Those neat mohair double breasted suits

No longer fall so easily

Off ones slender frame

The little black dress

Is passed down the charity shop line

Should there be another do

It would be a more sombre affair

No wild abandon lovers

Who brought their flash of light

To the instantly

Gratified journeys

We won't pace

Outside doorways anymore

Those fretful eyes that cried tears of joy

Now employ another motive

Thighs that made grown men sigh

Are hidden by jeans of denim brut

Should we choose

To regain our youth

It would be with nostalgic flair

As he randomly discovers

One could forge a clash

With dissatisfied attorneys

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Pursue

A cup of tea, a cigarette

Reading of the poetry book

Before anyone else arrived

Fanciful techniques

Used to ward off

Urges of excitement

At her expected appearance

Which came in an intricate

Colourful style; masses of

The desires I had succumbed to

Each delicate day

More poetic comments

From new found

Friends and acquaintances

Each day another notch

Filed off the key-locks

To her entrapment

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Divided & Indivisible

All the while, as if miles meant more than 

Her smile, half apparent no more

Feel into what one feels with, more than 

A rush of blood, whirls that spin no more

In that single file, one folder; more than

A grasp of whatever passes no more

Steal, or stolen, fallen more than

At last to bleed, indeed to seed no more

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here