Escapology

I have no more desire

My desire’s run through

I have no one else to tell

My colour’s turned blue

The unsteadiness of breeze

Rocks me as the aspen leaf

Thoughts of a ne’er-do-well

My riptide spurns its grief

I have the telegraph time

My rhyme’s still to choose

I haven’t a defining spell

My delectations are loose

The dull grey cloudy sky

Folds away as the thief

Tomorrow I’ll maybe dwell

My hope is thus so brief

This is the final poem from the pamphlet

Vagaries: Love of The Key to Room 149

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

Embellishment

The young man, tanned attractive youth, with a ruby earring and a swallow tattoo;

He swung the waltzer capsule with all the energy, and the raw emotion, of a wild animal on the chase of its prey

The young girls, bland attractive teenagers, wearing satin and denim with strings of imitation pearls;

They squealed with all the delight and the expectant joy of a wildebeest in the mating season

By the candy-floss stall a bubble machine cascaded bubbles, they floated freely all over the fairground, some of the glowing delicate orbs landed, gently, on to Sapphire’s velvet collar;

She was already dreaming of their faint, heady & passionate significance

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

Mother & Child

It brings out the romantic in me, the nostalgic romantic; to see the young girls blowing bubbles in the park. To know that they will grow up and enter the romanticised world of the bubble. The bubble of a first love, entered with all the innocent joy of youth, or re-entered with the passionate experience of maturity.

Of course the young girls were competitive, each one wanted to blow the bigger bubble, each one wanted their mother to be the proudest. The bubble was what tied the child to the mother, what neither could hold firmly, yet what neither could ever give back.

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

I Chose The Bubble

From within we see the stars, the sparkle
From without we see the sparkle, the stars
For the sparkle, and the stars
You might read fairgrounds and music
You might hear the symphonies
As the notes, one by one, slip
Out of your gossamer sheath

From without we are tears, and heartbreak
From within we are heartbreak, and tears
For the tears, and the heartbreak
You might read strangers & lovers
You might hear the sighs
As the embraces, one by one, slip
Back in to your gossamer sheath

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

Out There

I know this is the mist of the East

I know that I kissed her in my sleep

I know that to resist

Is to take myself, I insist, elsewhere deep

I know this is the light of the day

I know, with hindsight, I had to stay

I know always to be right

Is to stay on the inflexible way

I know this is the rain of the West

I know my pain is born in her breast

I know to rake for endless gain

Is to forsake the truth that more is less

I know this is the dark of night

I know the lark sings silver white

I know to walk through beauties park

Is love being caught, in her line of sight

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