Pinpoint

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In a state of flux
By
Dark night sea, moonlit

Fifteen minutes, no more
Thousands of hours ago

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Home Service

Ever so
My mother
With her love of letters

Contentment
That creeps
As lead on typeface setters

All those footsteps
In pleasant vales
Ragged trousers, wind in sail

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You’ll Need A Coat

Sat in the rain
It is plain, I could go to London
You are always the same
Thoughtful and considerate

Yet here I am, on the train
A soft refrain, on my way to London
The doubt almost became
Lacking in thought, how inconsiderate

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A New Expanse

To be in love
To have been in love
Six coins in the fountain

The sea of love
The three of love
Warm hearts
On snow capped mountains

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Birdcage Of The Soul

At the very least it ought to be a reflective letter
A piece to look back a good distance, looking back
From the safe vantage point of lost communication

I have been taken by the vistas
On several occasions the multifarious hillocks
Would catch the evidently varying light

The machair, for that is these Islanders name
For the strip of land between dune and farm
Or between dune and croft

The machair would be lit as a line
To underline the horizon
That separates sea from sky

I expected to feel more touched
By the expanse of solitude
It has not been so

Not that one could say
That the Islanders revel
In parties or conversation

Perhaps they need a long breath of finer weather
& clearer skies, but they have not yet borne
Their dark weight upon me

I have this desire, an urge to open out my life
To take full advantage of all the beauty
You included, that has so far befallen me

This journey
Into and through my subconscious
To be chartered by my superficial soul

The writer, the voice
Though no singer, I do aim to carry songs
As would the reader, to and fro

From the birdcage of my soul
To steal the words
Of one song from everybody’s past

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