he wasn’t aware
if his vertebrae
stacked up straight
or if all of his disks
were truly in line
but what he did know
was that love
would play a part
in the telling of this story
Available at Amazon |
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
he wasn’t aware
if his vertebrae
stacked up straight
or if all of his disks
were truly in line
but what he did know
was that love
would play a part
in the telling of this story
Available at Amazon |
Sea cold coca cola
Salt and Asti Spumante
Champagne supernova
Big blue Atlantic sea
There’s burger and there’s onions
There are barbecues for free
Away from mother Meavy
Down at Godrevy
There’s mother’s flying kites
With ladders in their tights
Its natures might
This big blue Atlantic Sea
Sun’s been up for hours
Though it’s the going down I’ve come to see
I’m captured by the guileless wonder
Of Godrevy’s big blue Atlantic sea
We’re dealing with the wonderment
It’s more than just a breeze
This rock face is shorn
By the waves of scorn
It’s more than just a breeze
That last cigarette, a simple bet
It’s more than just a breeze
This habit worn
For years forlorn
It’s more than just a wheeze
Avocado prawn
Avogadro’s norm
Enjoy the fruits of summer
Forget the beef and grizzle
And the turkey twizzle
Instead pray let the herb oils drizzle
You’re galvanised with energy
I’m corroding, turning rust to dust
Your stainless sheen is shining
My pitted mind is blind
You’re climbing cliff-tops surely
I’m using crampons for security
Your certainty is widening
Yourself you’re swiftly finding
My broken shafts are not for laughs
These words, they’re just the gas