Reserve Place

Springs steps stand inflexibly

Yet again the leaving feeling

It is what's in the seam of me

Tender times touch insensitivity

In my mind I'm still seeking out

What to do with endless dreams

This poem is from the collection 

Landlocked

All in all I have the Gaul

To explore far beyond the sea

Standing tall with etch and ball 

I'm finding out who is, yours truly me

With Withnail I stood, but failed to see 

One afternoon beside the amber Dee

There to stand our coats in hand

We had downsized, minimally

This poem is from the collection 

Desire for Song

I want to sing

I wanna bit of a thing

With the boy stood next to me

I see despise

Clear in his eyes

I want that entered deep in me

Side by side in dreams

Yet he's the one who's free

Side by side it seems

Yet he's the one with the cherry tree

I want to sing

Hey you pretty thing

Take some time with me

I see lost cries

Near in his eyes

I want that entered deep in me

Side by side in dreams

Yet he's the one who's free

Side by side it seems

Yet he's the one with the cherry tree

This poem is from the collection 

Don’t wake me next time

Starbursts; millions and zillions of stars bursting out in cascades just as in a firework fountain. Reds at first, a continuous vast outpouring of tiny specs of the cosmos huddled together as if lava flooding from a volcano. Reds that slowly turned to purples, to blues, to whites, all as starbursts; starbursts with endless unlimited energy, starbursts that fired and flared before their gradual replacement with more distinctive patterns; definable shapes, hoops and ovals, ellipses and paisleys, swirls and loops with translucent and fluorescent membranes, as if of the jellyfish on the seashore.

Gone, in that split second of the eyes opening and the eyes closing; gone again, the images turn to nought but grey and black, the excitement is gone, the hope of image capture is gone, the belief in disbelief is gone; all left are my words, that may or may not describe those few moments of unbridled wonder and meditation, that entire starburst of once in a lifetime.

This poem is from the collection 

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
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