Birthright

On the day after warmth came to spring

& daffodils flowered, beside new mown grass

The young boy came into our lives

On an evening when sunlight streams

Through leafless trees, I look more closely

To see the sticky buds beginning to open

That he too might enjoy the birdsong

Among the peacefulness, both now

& also in his later years

That his parents may soon walk out with him

In the countryside; also play endlessly together

On the soft sands, by sparkling seas

That love should come our way

Is itself the miracle of life

for Tim, Emma and Thomas William

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop

Closure

Away off Bluestone Heath

I see the dust trails rising

As if the wagon trains were

Leaving from East of Eden

At home in the garden

A warm breeze flowing

As if the spring-step of life

Was all over the grieving

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop

Dusted Off

Is it madness to write her a letter

Is my gladness, at the core or superficial

Am I fickle to trickle down my thoughts

Would it be better, left to someone special

The sadness and the longing have

Made way for songs of joy and loving

Undoing the reticence of my pen 

I sent out freely my words, to many

Without a penny to my name

I regained an eye for beauty

The tutored became the tutor

The suitor thus happy with his suit

The fruits of labour saved her; made her 

Resilient to impediments of single parenthood

She stood in liquid lucidity, independent

Of the love, I was waving behind her door

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop

Great Ouse

I would have written earlier

But I couldn’t find the line

A mix of decay and new ideas

Water lapping, sunlight sparkling

On the crest of the rivers waves

Warmed by that which I call beauty

I am warmed with the writing

Of this letter

It is to you, also to no one in

Particular, except perhaps those

Who have been, or are in love

With sufficient quiet, to hear the

Silent calm among the passions

The dry grasses and the reeds

Buffeted by the spring breeze, the

Water burbles at the bank where

Children with their parents stroll

I wish to close now, move a little

Closer to the drove, ever thankful

For these few moments together

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop

Littleport

I write of you

Not for you

Neither for me

Not even to wander

Nor wonder how you are

I write of you

Not for you

On a Saturday

In the breezy morning

Before the moonlit night

Beneath the stars

I write of you

Not for you

Instead looking up

At the thatched roof

With three brick detailed

Triple stacked chimneys

I write, I write

I write, not of you

Not of you, not of you

Neither for me, not for me

Not on a Saturday

Instead I’m looking up

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop