Odds On

Swans
Cut through
The rippled surface

Geese
Fly V form
In the sombre sky

Windmill
Blades amble
To the tipping point

Railway
Carriages roll
Over conversations

Partake
Of the pink laced sky
Sipping the winners pink champagne

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Meds 13

Old arguments surfaced
Though only superficial
I wrote an unsigned dedication
Quietened the internal voices

All that time without a position
Then to find myself, striking out
Saying what to adopt, what to avoid
Which of the bear-traps to beware of

And under the moonlight
To single out the moon
And stars, and clouds, and sky, and to name
The embers images, in the fire grate

Today - this day, this morning
Will be unlike almost any other
Except that I will breathe mindful
And ask others to do the same

The last coach on the last train
Will set off into the dusk of sunset
It will have been a very good time
For quiet helloes, and sad, sad goodbyes

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Good Night

By the open door
Looking to the moon
The evening ends
It’s morning too soon

Listen to the score
Hosannah up on high
Promises to send
Expectation’s to cry

Always then more
Of the daily timetable
Classes to attend
For proof of being able

Tilted glasses core
To sparkling flames
Sauvignon blended
All freed of blame

The inner shores
Cushion landed waves
To follow the trend
Of the truth he craves

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Directions

East to West
Or rather
West to East
Looking South

Looking
North to South
Down the spines
Of electricity pylons

Eyes falling
Blessing the light
That shakes reflections
From the industrial waterways

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Buffered

In times of separation
All that care
Is passionately expected

Dusk to dawn dependants
Placed their bets
For the never-ending story

Not quite in the gutter
But not far away
In camera-shutter circles

How much sadness
Reflects on the water
How much joy suppressed

Or flows of adrenalin
Time to tell and show
The deepest deep-hurt

That cuts into sensitivities
And causes the revolt
Against established society

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