Canvas

There is always noise
Even here, miles off the beaten track
I can hear the drone of the highway
Somewhere over the hill

The stubble is sharp, and glossy
Soil redder than brown
A five-bar gate, half off the hinge
Dykes dry, also somewhat overgrown

All this space
Not a single house
Or another person

I am warm
Sunlight allows me
To play with shadows

Other sounds are to be heard here
Once I let the road noise
Become no more than the back story

available for kindle here

Troop

The field looks tired
Crop all covered in dust
Four of five days of sunshine
A good while longer without rain

Trees all straggled and forlorn
The partridge hardly able to croak
First steps towards desperation
East of Eden where dust bowls await

To believe, in life's transformations
Put in the work, sit and watch
As all before is eaten, ravished
By the blight of restoration

available for kindle here

Dreaming Of Climbing Further - Part Two

The walls and the water fountains
They could have been anywhere
Yet away, at some distance from the metropolis
They gift both resplendence and comfort
To aid the habitual study and prayer

Fear is at one malignant
Fear is always close contingent
So trips my tempered thread
So skips my secret heart
Behind this omnipresent frown

One Hallelujah chorus
With monks in blossom streams
Witnessed, in contemplation
Chants of the silence strum

The twenty first century poets
There words too are gathered
As though they were a refrain
For Lucia di Lammermoor

available for kindle here

Dreaming Of Climbing Further - Part One

Across the rope-bridge, to the temple
Fragments of papyrus flutter into the gorge
At floor level the twenty first century poets
Gather to capture the words, as though
They were the petals of snowdrops

Fear is at a distance
Fear is always at a distance
So beats my bumpy heart
So well the beads of sweat
Upon my furrowed brow

One dance step after the next, in and out
Of the skipping rope, to the music of whistle and drum
The twenty first century poets words are gathered
As though they were the echoes of the sunspots

available for kindle here

Freudian Slips

Three middle aged women
All in tight, see-through, skirts
Each with a G-string
And more than enough pubic hair

Only one wears glasses
None are recognisable

Earlier a bully of a man
Objected to my point of view
Came at me
With a pointed outstretched arm

I stood my ground
Thought him to be ridiculous

Remember to mention the dreams
On the latest website creation
After this day
When one tried to use judgement

A night to question
How easily I am able to be swayed

available for kindle here