Counter Claim

All our own private moments
O how to share them

Do you feel the breeze
as it rustles through the trees
Do you feel pleased
to be, for the moment, unburdened

The weight off your feet
as you skip into the stream
The young love that you meet
as you slip into the dream

All our own private moments
yes how to share them
Doors close, winds pick up
rain lashes, fires die away to embers

Do you feel disease
as it rustles through the trees
Do you feel displeased
to be freed of burden

The weight off your feet
as you slip into the dream
The young love that you keep
as you trip into the stream



a poem from the collection Some Trickier Poems - Love with Conflicts - available as a kindle download or library item by clicking here

Watercombe in the Mirror

That late May afternoon
Nineteen years or so ago
I climbed the five bar gate
Walked two thousand metres
Over the pipeline

I kicked stones down to the river
Whistled to the sheep
Who appeared to be reasonably settled

By the trout pass I took off my boots
Dangled my feet into the water

My laughter trapped in the bowl
Of the wrapped around hillside
Only now the laughter


a poem from the collection Watercombe - Love in Open Moorland, available from itunes by clicking on this link

I have taken a lot of pleasure

From this paper and this pen
Difficult to commence
Indefinable intent

In between: visions
Missions from black to gold
Lullabies, heaven sent

Pleasures taken for real
By the person
Not simply the pen lent

Wherever I began
Not to know
Whatever was meant

In between, loss of control
Flotillas of clouds
Windblown thoughts bent



a poem from the collection Watercombe - Love in Open Moorland, available from itunes by clicking on this link

Envelope

Twenty four pence
Boundless limitless value
A moment a minute a lifetime
No one not ever

Opened my heart or my pen
Opened and broken
Twenty four pence
A stamp to save our love



a poem from the collection Watercombe - Love in Open Moorland, available from itunes by clicking on this link

Against the Rain

Did I write of a white May moon
On this on a scrap of paper
Like a smooth boulder

I am your white May moon

Soon another train will rickety rattle
Tittle tattle on the radio home
I miss too too

You you you, I miss you my white may moon

We walked on sunrise seashores, held hands
Kept warm, touched life at the fingertips
Emotions recharged with energy explosions

I walk alone, against the rain

Elements to touch, to touch together
Pleasure, pleasure in this life
A gift of your unlimited ideals

I too too miss you our white may moon



a poem from the collection Watercombe - Love in Open Moorland, available from itunes by clicking on this link