Soft, golden, free
And only one day older
Than yesterday
A still night, quiet and steady
Under halogen and sodium light
To stop and caress
Fondle
The old worn gateposts
Shorn of historical reference
Would you, feel this moment
In your own existence
Would you
Resist the urge to race along
Then reflect why don’t you
On the quiet time
The free, and soft, and golden
Those still nights under the street lights
 |
| Available on Amazon |
Grey skies
Raindrops on the windows
But still in youth
The vigour to describe
The shine in every detail
On each separated sphere
Colour in all the lonely droplets
Summer closes slowly, eases itself
Into the darker nights
Of autumn
The fear and fright of new beginnings
Of best laid plans
Resurrected, dusted off and drilled down
Around the turn of the year
Into drifted snow
Under frosted moonlight
Crisp under foot, fresh minds
Clear of untroubled numbers
The free mist hides all the frozen shadows
Step out under the bluest of blue skies
In flight above the clouds
Over star swept mountains
Your signature; the new you
As an aviator, or a pedestrian
Stride into the lush chase of springtime
Ride once more with the Valkyries
|
| Available on Amazon |
The soft sand settles slow
Underfoot into the footprints
Into the so so many steps
If I’ve shifted the drifts of snow
By the reservoir, there apart
Departed from almost everyone I know
A snowman, with a smile
And a tuft of dry grass hair
Dare I to recreate, to rebuild
If to be lost for a while
Was the cost to be borne
If atop the vast panorama
Dostoevsky’s style was worn
Meanwhile, here in the rain
Past stains remain in my environment
Ingrained, learned, deeper than conviction
Cooler than the gallows
This feel, at one at a distance
A rough touch, the gentleness deserted
Indebted
Unknown now they walk
So so often
Since once again we’ve parted
I would have nestled
The round
And weathered boulder
Slung loose aside my cap
Fastened secure
Hung down or sat upon my shoulder
|
| Available on Amazon |
I slept till noon
Not often that I do
I rolled over, to dream
Of oceans green and blue
In debt to the song of Brigadoon
Now I think of you
I lay here, to daydream
Of sands and seas
Seas of green and blue
We met in my bedroom
A smile, a handshake too
I sat unsteady; ready to lean
On crates of green and blue
We let the talk turn to magic mushrooms
Now and again I think of you
I lay here, to daydream
Of Babylon, of a cut in silk and bees
The bees of green and blue
|
| Available on Amazon |
How
Why
Where
What awfully inappropriate words
The dares of deception they cut my cloth too deep
My mother
Her mother before
I don’t know when they began
The cast iron ranges, ovens by the coal fire
The cares of conception they make my pencil seep
Have you
Do you
Could you care or know
Where these words are heading
What was it, that set them on their way backalong
Tin baths
Hanging rails for the drying
Cast enamel for the baking ovens
The park benches on the loneliest of afternoons
The fares of correction, they fill my pockets deep
My lover
Her lover before
I don’t know when they began
The fast diamond laces, the magic of the gyre
Stares of redemption; only my tears which we weep
|
| Available on Amazon |