At Table

The straight glass cylinder
Leans over, ever so slightly

As a younger man I might
Have had the certainty
The arrogance to tell you
By how many degrees

But for now let me say
Less than one or two
At least insufficient
To raise any concern

The tube sits on top of a vessel
A voluminous crystal container
For oil or paraffin, or whatever
Would cause the wick to flame

Between the vessel and the tube
There is a mechanical contraption
A geared disk, for the butler
To raise or lower the light

This controlled illumination, with fine adjustment
Is placed at the master, or his guests convenience
There to set the ambiance for their lusts fulfilment
& the more exotic forms of demonic debauchery

Today the whole device is stilled
It as been drained, washed, cared for
It sparkles clean; but it is without use
Other than to fix this writers eye


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Back when you’ve gone away

What did you say
About downtown
On Saturday
Would you so play

There on the bank
The brink of fair happiness
Dressed in mink
She winks and walks on by

Hey now they say
She'll be back
Wait for time to take
The rough cuts… the malady


This poem is from the collection East of Lincoln Central available now on kindle - click on the text for details

Its early how are you

Other singer's songs
Are singing in my head
It's eight in the morning
I'm more alive than dead
I've woke and it's quite early
Sleep came as such a fake
I've spoke to no one lately
But smile so soon I wake
But smile so soon I wake

Other florist's flowers
Are garlands posed deep red
I wait for early warnings
In all the words I've said
I wake within the bird song
Fawn as the love of life is led
I wake in the early morning
Look back at what I've read

It's early; bird's are singing

It's early; I am bringing
Bringing you
Back into my bed
Cocoa pops and cider
Lay right down beside her
Smoke that slow cigarette
Pluck the strings so slow
Undress again my blue
Undress my beauty baby blue

You came to be my lover
You came to be my life
No shame you said to smother
No blame or sacrifice
Other writer's words
Walk easy in my land
Other talkers talk
They seem a happy band
I've woke and it's quite early
Sleep came as such a fake

I've spoke to no one lately
But smile so soon I wake
But smile so soon I wake

Other chartist’s showers
Are sprinkled now unsaid
I wait for curlews blinkered
On the entire world I have fed
I wait with soft words fingered
The gift of life is bred
I wait as lightness itself still lingered
Love laid back on the weeps of wed

It's early how are you
It's early how far you
It's early my star you
Come
Back into my bed
Your fragrance here beside me
Come back into my bed
Your fragrance clear beside me
Calm inside my head

Jelly tots and liquorice
Allsorts; to do with as we wish
Talk that fabled sensuality
Flex my tummy kiss
Undress again my lover
Undress again
My zoobie zombie miss
You came to be my lover
You came to be my life
No name of any other
Past flame to patronise

Other painter's pictures
Are laid upon their stands
My mother's footprints figure
Set soft there in the sand
I've woke and it's quite early

Sleep came home as such a fake
I've smoked for no one lately
I smile so soon I wake
I smile so soon I wake

I've woke and it's quite early
Sleep came home as such a fake
I've choked for no one lately
I smile so soon I wake

I smile so soon I wake
I smile I ache
I smile so soon I wake
I smile for you, I ache for you
I smile for you, I ache for you
I smile for you
I smile so soon I wake
I smile I ache
I smile so soon I wake
I smile, that so soon I wake

This poem is from the collection East of Lincoln Central available now on kindle - click on the text for details

Time on Ones Own

That there might be something in the effect of time spent alone, time spent on ones own either by choice, or as a necessity due to a particular way of life.

When do we first notice that we are on our own.

I moved to the small town of Holmfirth when I was thirteen. Eventually I left behind my friends in the tiny village of Birdsedge, some six miles away, but not until I had spent many weeks cycling to and fro.

One day I was sat in Victoria Park watching some boys play football. I thought if I watched them often enough they might ask me to join them. After several days as a spectator I did join in, they became my friends, I was soon a member of their gang.

This ice breaker led to many more friendships, more friendships than I am now able to recollect, it was a significant step, and it was a step I was conscious had to be taken. It was a time when I knew I was on my own.

When do we move from being uncomfortable on our own to being happy or content to be on our own.

The time sat watching the boys playing football, waiting to be asked to join in, was not comfortable. It was probably also a discomfort to the boys to see me sat there, sat alone, day after day.

Yet some days not everyone would join in at football, sometimes people would go off fishing or cycling, go off doing solitary activities, mostly I would stay with what was left of the group.

I had had enough of my time alone.




a poem from In & Out of Dream Space Love Embellished by Visitations click anywhere on the text for details

Back then

No one tells you anything
Anything that you really need to know
At the time you need to know
At the time that you really need to know

How to stop those voices shouting
How to stop the calling of the shrink
How to count to ten or twenty
Or even just to stop and think

No one tells you
Except that you ought to know
No one tells you
Except the tears just have to flow
No one tells you
Except for sure that by now you know

How to stop the nagging doubting
How to drop the stalling mink
How to count, wait, hesitate
Wait a short while longer take a drink

Back then back in childhood
Back then back in teens
Back then back a young man
Back then with dragons with queens

No one tells you anything
Anything that you need to know
Anything that you really need to know
Somehow just a simple breakthrough

Then again a massive step
Then again a massive step

If you've ever been in love
Or lost a close one
Or lost a limb


Well to think that none of that would matter
To think that not a single thing matters
Not a single thing at all

How to stop the voices shouting
Wonder if  it's worth the thought
How to add the noughts together
To any single thing less fraught

So damned easy just to write it
To compensate with chance
Or the intellect almighty
Of imagined circumstance

What you need to truly feel it
Touch it right there on the nose
Deep down in the spine

Hear the book words breathe it fine
Pay the teller to tell her lies
Pay her with the fives and dimes

No one tells you anything
Anything that you really need to know
No one tells you

Tells you what you need to know
At the time you need to know
At the time that you really need to know

No one tells you anything
Anything that you really need to know
No one tells you
At the time that you really need to know



This poem is from the collection East of Lincoln Central available now on kindle - click on the text for details