Black and White

The arched palm sways; again it says I am triumphant

As if, within itself, it has found the very essence of flexibility

Such as aimed at by architects 

& constructors of the worlds finest

Bridges & most modernist recreational houses

Messages, airborne communications, indiscernible

To the discerning holidaymaker

Late afternoon; altogether warm

A wind that whistles

As though thoroughly broken teeth

The mosquito follows its own unique & clearly

Discernible, rite of passage

A wind that crosses itself

As though a fresh new pop star

On that Apple Studios zebra crossing

What then the consequences of an all out attack

On the inflexible sources of irritation

This poem is from the collection 

Forget Me Knots

Red tips of the strawberry boy

Serenade the fated rose

Her petals all but discarded

Her flourish of second youth

Heads towards a certain

And finitely definable end

It is evening

Early evening I grant you

But still evening all the same

The days wind has blown itself out

& the swimming pool surface is so settled

That the laburnum now reflects my true colours

This poem is from the collection 

It is Sunday

Not yet night

Not much to do

No rush to do it

Empty beer bottles roll across the tiles

Roll into & under

The discarded laid back sun loungers

The last waft of sweet music

On the breeze of sweeter marijuana

Seems a substantially long time ago

This poem is from the collection 

Towards Clear

The roar of the sea

Settles my disquiet

The warm wind

Fettles my cobwebs

No more the old stones that crumble on causeways

Here there are no walls for long forgotten portraits

Yes, we could join in

Set aside the words

But I am unprepared

Still there is a tightness

This poem is from the collection 

Transparent

I will start with the cloud

If only because it is unusual

Then again, also because

It sharpens the horizon

Whose thin line

Of deepest serge-blue

Cuts straight across; divides the sky

And the sea; it partitions the sea and sky

Between the horizon

And my shoes there are many shades

Of blue, blues that merge

Merge blue to green

Which then

Through many shades 

Of greens, merge to white

Before the orange splash

Of sand; a soft colour

Very soft indeed, in sharp contrast 

To my luminescent, fluorescent

And super-phosphorescent, purple socks

This poem is from the collection