Clearance

In the wreckage of a house clearance,a face distorts in a fractured glass eye.Painted on gesso and northern white pine,old acrylic eyelashes flash a recognition. Stippled like a stormy summer,worn and battered flanks shiver in the dust.A torn rosette from a forgotten fetehangs by a mane, shabby and faded. Familiar sounds echo in the room:the…

Multiple Choice

Multiple Choice I took the test again today. Turned on Radio Four.Listened to a story about the homeless.Then came kids orphaned by bomb blastsin another country.But that was too hard,so I moved on … Started up the car instead of doing the walking thing;it was raining and I needed stuff from the supermarket.Saw a dead…

Drifting

Drifting Light seeps through cracked lashes.The new day’s tide sweeps a winter beach,debris left on rippled sandforms a room of furniturein a head weighed with questions. Out of frozen vaults of memory,a canvas dragged into the morning sunthaws slowly, mixed colour through frostleaching out in blurred patcheson old bones in a strange bed. Who owns…

The Tale of Boris Snot, the Horrible and Vile

An ogre known as Boris Snotthe Horrible and Vilelooked every inch a monsterwith his grotty, beastly style. At eight foot tall with mottled skinand voice so very loud,his gruffness frightened folkand Boris stood out in a crowd. Yet Boris was a nice guyand just craved a quiet life;to have a break from pitchfork mobsand other…

Poems #3

Invitation To Move On I am small in the sea, pushed aroundby waves that care not for any grain of sandor stuff that floats in old men’s heads. Arms held wide and high, that reach and clinglike a child to a parent when things get rough,when routines fail and muscles waste. I hesitate, recoil, cower;…

Poems #2

Multiple Choice I took the test again today. Turned on Radio Four.Listened to a story about the homeless.Then came kids orphaned by bomb blastsin another country.But that was too hard,so I moved on … Started up the car instead of doing the walking thing;it was raining and I needed stuff from the supermarket.Saw a dead…

Poems #1

Yew In search of yew in Borrowdalethat shared the sun with Judas,I walk a rutted path, aware of twinges, snares, rocks,carrying your paints and easelalong with this bowl of words, no longer fit for consumption,mould festering in knotsfrom sour touching fruit within. And if these words were berries,gardeners would stand disappointedat the canker in the…

Incoming … World Curlew Day 2022

Incoming I am not your enemy dear messenger,but still your intent feels murderous. And though your reckless, adrenalinefuelled passes and dopplered cries have sent these old instincts into fullflight mode, my head disappearing into my shoulders, my sixty year oldbody separated from my bicycle to lie expediently on this damp grassy bank,I cannot help but…

What’s it all about, Albert?

What’s it all about, Albert? Let us talk of poetic fundamentals,observations of a flawed reality,where a standard garden leaf blowerdisperses this year’s rotting leaveslike some proton powered atom throwerin the hands of a caffeine fuelled organismquestioning existence in a late autumn gardenpitching free verse at the Universeas an antidote to creeping entropyand whose focus floats…

Fledge

Dandelion Sun A child’s sun finds a dream in young eyes.In blinks of dandelion eclipses,refracted light reflects on retinasholding warmth in ragged leavesbelow a flower standing up and out. Ryegrass and foxtail for company,a golden head of petals,swaying and slight,is there and gone and there again. The wings of friends unfold to test the airwith…

The Book … a poem for children

A classroom book sat all forlorn, unchosen on the shelfand in its simple way it wondered sadly to itself,how many days or weeks or months or years it must there bide,till any child might pick it up and read the words inside. It knew each boy and girl within the classroom by their namesand through…