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.