Between The Lines

You are
Better read than I
Your intellect
Positively on fire

Yet actively restrained
One day you will give me your take
Tell me who
The vulgar-upstarts represent

For my part
I will wallow in the Pastoral passages
Though I note a certain lack of flow
Unbecoming of such a refined writer

My guess – there will be a purpose
To the unfortunate juxtapositions
No doubt you will elaborate, elongate
Raise to the surface my submerged view

Fury Poems - A short collection
Read free on Issuu

Déjà Vu

I ride a stumbled path
Beside the broken glass
Through the deserts of blown grass
Without fence or hedgerow

A solitary walker waves me down
Do I know the way he asks
Certain that he has passed this way before
But where are the fields of folk
Where are the farmers workers

I tried to make a laugh
Without thought or purpose
Through the void of explanation
Without doubt, deliverance or benediction

Thanks he said
I’ll be on my way
I may be back again tomorrow
He did not say,
And I for certain did not follow

Fury Poems - A short collection
Read free on Issuu

F Words Saying Look

White board, wipe away, move on, gone
But you travelled through some deep synapses
Erase, erasure, lose, loss of sweet saviour
Or quarantine, quarantine before you delete
Loosening links and losing linkages
Opening wounds, bound, sealed, slowly wheeled
Turn to…
Make a sense
Find a purpose
Being: To Be Is Not Alone Enough
Buy some time, rebuild some memories
Work out the why

Fury Poems - A short collection
Read free on Issuu

To Be Is Not Alone Enough

White board, wipe away, move on, gone
But you travelled through some deep synapses
Erase, erasure, lose, loss of sweet saviour
Or quarantine, quarantine before you delete
Loosening links and losing linkages
Opening wounds, bound, sealed, slowly wheeled
Turn to…
Make a sense
Find a purpose
Being: To Be Is Not Alone Enough
Buy some time, rebuild some memories
Work out the why

Fury Poems - A short collection
Read free on Issuu

Basin

There was no one here
Yet quite suddenly
It is busy

There was nothing to fear
Even the past
Of dizzy Miss Lizzie

These are hill people
Hills and valleys
Grass to stream

Dry stone walls
Surround
Sheep farmers dream

Barns and bairns
At work and play
Tor-view-time
Time to redeem

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