Oh polar bear rolling,

So tousled, so rumpled

such spikeywet furrings

so fluff and so jumpled

And growlings and strokings

And grumping and gruffing

And paddy paws loving

Bear tender and rubbing

And rolling and butting

And nuzzling caresses

Oh polar bear loving -

It always impresses!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

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You called to me

We played, just for a while

When blackthorn blossomed and the sea was soft.

The to and fro of tides can catch you out!

A high tide, dangerous as the fullest heart.

And blackthorn branches bear the sharpest thorns.

But gentleness beats passion at the end

And true love, sweet as friendship

Says - all mend!

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So, everyone is busy but for me.

Yet I feel a contentment absolute.

Two buzzards spar across the sky.

A prelude to an early mating?

A day in hand, and what to do with it?

Before company leads me back to life.

I think I’ll spend it thinking of the year.

And counting buzzards -what could be more apt?

Each span of life that passes since you left

...

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I sit and polish silver.

First, a salt spoon with a little bend.

Then, the mustard pot.

I love the mustard pot.

It has a spoon shaped like a woman.

Hallmarked 1871.

A set of fish knives with Bakelite

Handles.

Very like a set my mother had.

Remember the loose and wayward handles!

Cannot remember eating fish.

The smell of Brasso takes me back

...

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It is a time of primroses and tadpoles.

The ice of winter cracks and melts.

Life bubbles through the water of the mere

and skeletons of trees smudge into green.

It is a time of life made new.

The shadow of January’s cloud is fading

and wrens are building in the ivy once again.

Sometimes the warmth of spring melts me like butter,

but still there’s frost upon...

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London was never so full of ghosts.

You wore your coat, black and white check,

your own style, with your swept-by fringe.

I thought you might be humouring me

but you felt it too, no way was it a favour.

We had our A-Z,  picked up a leaflet

and we wandered. And we got a little lost. . .

It wasn’t really cold. Ducked into the Museum of London

for ...

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Plump blond girl

Sits next to me

Cute as a muffin top.

Takes out her lunch

And begins to munch

A roll, a cake, a bag of crisps.

Plugs her earphones in.

Gets her laptop on.

Gavin and Stacey.

Plump blond girl starts to laugh.

The seat next to me bounces up and down

Animated by her joy.

I sit glum

I never could laug...

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I tiptoe to your house in my ruby slippers

I have a date to dance in my ruby slippers

Twirling toes in holly halls take merry chances

Dervish dances in my pointy ruby slippers

Tie your bow tie, quick as it spins my darling

I’ll spin and spoon with you in my ruby slippers

I wade through frozen snow, they’re in my hand, held tight,

My own spark...

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She met him surrounded by dahlias in a Fibonacci swirl

A sure shock to his delicate system in a Fibonacci swirl

She was the fluorescent ghost a-haunting, she was not his cool pale girl

Carbon copy daguerreotype posing with her Fibonacci swirl

Cut her cloth to fool him, stared at mirrors, scared herself, made her hair curl

Tricked him, jilted him and then ...

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Oh come through swirling tempests of snow for me

I’ll warm your hands, leave your gloves of snow for me.

Rivulets fashion into veins of crystal

A mathematician out of snow for me.

Glass hexagons on ivy sprigs crack and freeze

In rubix cubes made of ice and snow for me.

The blood red sun is my evening candle flame

And thunder the tympani of sn...

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I am so low.

Maybe I can join the moles

in their happy unambitious explorations?

Little mole, inglorious,

humble creature

let me join you in the earth.

We can be blots on the landscape

leaving air and light

preferring to stay

safely out of sight.

Dispel all grief

with our repetitious toil.

If I could join you,

I c...

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You are my beacon,

I’m headed your way.

A speeding comet into

your darkness.

Lie in waiting

for when love hits,

the crater will be immense.

When it knocks you off your

stable core

life may at last begin upon your planet.

The dinosaurs will have to die

but you and me

and all the birds

will learn to fly!

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the world is too small

millions and millions of men

but not one for me

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Home

is here.

Never one

alone, no.

Enraptured soul mates

encapsulated - twinnedinlove.

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Semaphore flagpoles

Red sails in the harbour

Formidable matrons and

Anti-macassers

A feast on the beach

With the brown china teapot

Boys with bare feet

“Come roll up your trousers!”

A parrot called Peggy

A dog called Dorita

A cloche in the garden

Oh whatever next!

The first car in the village

A chauffeur called William

The yearly reg...

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I miss my skylark place

tumbling down to the sea place

sandaled walk along cliff edges

wind in my face place

I miss the song of summer.

I need freckle making warmth

when muscles lax into a-melting

as limbs loll and hair is damp

and pollen flows

I long for sensual summer.

glitter crunch of sand between the toes

smell of heat on skin

sti...

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poetry fairy’s gone away

poetry fairy could not stay

more folk to meet

more tales to tell

more wishes in her

wishing well

poetry fairy’s gone away

I hope she comes again one day.

poetry fairy’s left my house

left me alone to grump and grouse

she flapped her airy fairy wings

she always was a flighty thing

she never even waved goodbye

...

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Love visits from another planet

talks in a language I can’t understand

knocks me flat, throws me on my back

in seconds.

Love visits from another planet.

Love visits from another planet

with quiet voice, subtle demands

kills me right, every night then

I'm abandoned.

Love visits from another planet.

Love visits from another planet

is ...

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Dig deep and delve

Go underground

beneath life’s leaflitter.

Explore stratigraphy.

Go below earth’s annual pulling curtain

where earwigs scamper

and woodlice curl and cower.

Go down down down

‘neath roots and worms and skulls and crowns

and roman glass and buried urns of bones,

patterned crockery and unexploded bombs.

Igneous, calca...

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you cannot die

you cannot grow old.

I would defy, yet there is grey

above your temples.

but you cannot die

for how could that be?

you were born of me

so

how can you ever die

if I say “no!”

and that is why

when the wave came and knocked you down

I smacked you hard

and made you cry

for I

was fiercer than any wave

could ever be.

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The lights don't work in carriage E.

The Train Manager, a caring sort of girl,

explains that really we should be evacuated

but the train is crowded

and, well, we are all grown ups aren't we?

So every time the train goes through a tunnel

she stands, torch in hand,

and shines it up onto the roof.

We all feel very special in coach E.

I lo...

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His passion is a ten foot tendril

reaching for her

like a climbing plant

reaches for the sun.

Their love echoes round oceans.

Twining, stretching out

so vulnerable,

for love.

He fondles her

she opens

completely

and together

they fall into that heavy nothingness.

And I am left alone to think

only whales and

you and I

make lo...

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The rain comes like a friend

tapping on the window

but I don’t let her in.

She patters, batters,

wants to speak to me,

wants a gossip.

I turn over,

go to sleep.

The rain comes again

in the night

insistent, sharp and hard,

relentless.

So I shut the window tight.

I don’t want to hear her news

not tonight.

The rain goes...

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We stumble through darkness

torches raking emerald hedges

three women off to salsa class.

Never been before.

Laughing and shivering

in the January night.

The church hall is warm and bright

the teacher young.

He tries to show us how to dance the salsa.

We stand in line.

It looks so easy

but I can’t do it!

I add steps that ar...

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Your hand my hand

intoxication.

Shadow play

on walls alive.

Feather touch

imagination

as your eyes

look into mine.

Candlelight

passion migration

miles diminish

disappear.

Electric

communication.

desire transmission

you are here.

Separated, sliced in two.

Two rooms.

Two hands.

But...

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My heart is an ivy covered stone

bound to earth by a strong green rope.

Lichen encrypts my name, my date,

loving mother, my identity

and I am glad

for never a mate

had ownership

of me.

And in one hundred years from now

all will be a mystery.

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My dear

You look so small

Beneath it all

The curving arc of life

The world

And all we know.

Troubled, taken in pain,

Your heart’s refrain

Is to battle hard

Against it.

But just let go.

For all we know

Life and love and everything!

That’s our eternal span.

Enjoy it while you can.

For dust is all and dust is - us

My master.

...

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I can walk.

In winter

before dawn.

I can walk.

Allowing me to sleep.

To sleep.

To sleep before the sun.

Nights.

Nights are so very long.

But if I wake.

I wake and walk

before the dawn.

Then life.

Then life it will be over soon.

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Dusk speckles in as bats flitter along skypath ways

moths scrap against the lamp.

A primitive time, twilight,

a putting on of cardigans as chill comes in.

Dotted lights spring out across the valley

birdtwitter muffs to silence like a dusty blanket.

Beyond the window black cows disappear in misty fields.

A walk from you to me, from me to you.

Din...

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The man from rejerrah

has eyes specked with mica

a voice warm as amber

carves bibles from jasper

eats crumpets with marmite

wears corduroy trousers

and bobbly jumpers

reads Beowulf by gaslight

cooks stew on a rayburn

grows carrots and rhubarb

makes a good crumble

walks miles to the pub

plays euchre with locals

spots Perseid showers

h...

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Opposite the Shoulder of Mutton

the pedestrian zone and

moss tiled rooves of

Hebden Bridge

I make my strong Americano last.

A man who looks like Dr Kildare

leaves the coffee shop.

Two hours to kill

until my train to Leeds.

Pelargoniums in window boxes falter.

Pigeons roof huddling, couples shopping,

Grannies pramming it.

Ea...

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I asked for three signs.

I found

a rock crystal in the earth

when I planted a rose.

I saw

a seal suspended

in the curtain of a wave.

A storm came

lightning woke me

thunder bruised

the sky.

I asked for three signs.

Now

teach me how to read them.

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Villettedada

or

The Maiden’s Lament.

Turkish dignitaries.

Where are they? Why don’t they come?

I make my own bed and do my housework.

What do you mean, you’re hungry!

White wine Waffles.

Desiree needs a particularly watchful eye!

Look here, how clean she is, this young Miss Lucy.

So, do you like this alleyway?

(Maintaining an air of innocence.)

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sitting in a turning circle

on a rusty digger bucket

bashed about pitted and beaten

mobile silent in my pocket

saw three muntjack deer who

stared and ran away.

sun appears through leaf lace golden

in the end a little sadness

sitting on the digger bucket

opposite the locked green casket

in the churned up turning circle

mobile sleeping in my pock...

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spinning over the horizon

white winged doves

playful, racing,

beating the gale

at its own game

rushing whooshing turbines

chuck the breeze to one another

and shout

“You’re it!”

gathered in groups

enjoying the heights of

their moorland playground

these catherine wheel

windchasers -

dance for me!

...

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I can’t imagine freedom.

Everything comes with a price.

Take love.

Love comes with the biggest price of all.

“Will you die before the morning

my beloved?

For I can never sleep

knowing that there is doubt.”

“Do you still love me?

As much as I love you?

My heart is in knots of anguish,

for I can never know the answer.”

...

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Rock’s in profile,

forehead, nose and chin.

Sea’s a mountain,

a cascading avalanche,

white and foamy as milk

boiling in the pan.

Figures on the hill

are warriors.

A kestrel hovers as if

hanging on a string

and boulders lie

calm as elephants

upon the sand.

Oily grey gull feathers

tell a drab story

of October gales,

...

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I look at my toes

neat and straight.

Except the little one.

Bent because I broke it.

The day I learned that dad

was having an affair.

I remember, on the settee

my baby on my lap.

It was summer and

my feet were bare.

Mum and dad came round.

Later

going to the bathroom

I stubbed my toe.

I couldn’t walk for days.

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So many London journeys have the smell of death.

So often funerals or illness take me there.

And so on Thursday, on an empty train,

a flying visit, to see your mother.

I dread the flat. So many pictures in my head.

The faded green settee on which we sat

our hands clasped, hidden between your thigh and mine.

Though in our forties, it was still a thrill

...

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We sit above the blueblack sea

as the sun settles.

Wrapped in winter

coats in our September.

Two women crying, laughing,

going crazy

with our pink

champagne.

All the others are inside

for warmth

and music.

Our teeth chatter but we feel

alive.

Below the doomy sea

can crash

but we are here,

above it.

...

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Brown plastic flower beds, dimpled, holed.

A mesh of flowers, steamroller flat. Colourful

in cellophane, a child’s colours.

A blunt dowel, your plastic spade.

Now, begin to plant your plastic garden.

A row of sunflowers at the back

they plunge in, thump in, whole.

Rose bushes are a little complicated

spread out like a fan.

Force the dowel ...

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There is a place called Nineveh.

The name is etched on cloudy glass

above the squat wide door.

A door for coffins and their bearers.

A place called Nineveh.

Once the old range was warm

with the peppery smell of pasties

and the sound of miners' boots rang.

It had its time for guests to stay

in this place called Nineveh.

Of breakfast bacon...

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My cat,  old

shrivelled, shrunken,

tufty furred.

I stroke,

a backbone sharp and knobby

as a tooth-ed comb.

Dry rattle-leafed one

with slight hips

wishbone thin,

you haunt me now,

holding my gaze.

Yours is a hunger no food

satisfies -

you pace.

Please

tell me when it’s time

or gently go . . . .

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fear the bullet

hear the bullet

smell the bullet

see the bullet

feel the bullet

catch the bullet

own the bullet

snatch the bullet

hate the bullet

love the bullet

kiss the bullet

shove the bullet

blow the bullet

suck the bullet

know the bullet

fuck the bullet

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dull metal heavy grey bird

pinkingshear shut scream and screech

coming down out of the sky

onto my head knocking me

onto the rainsplashed paindashed pavement

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You’re the twin sister I never had

With a nun for a mother and a wizard for a dad

Your boyfriend’s called Sir Galahad

And here you are juggling peonies.

Your umbrella’s made of Chantilly lace

Cos you love the rain upon your face

With your skirt in your knickers you’re a real disgrace

And here you are juggling peonies.

Your boots are made from ca...

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Lazy waves break over the rock

round and smooth as a seal’s head.

My hand cups to pat it

expecting warmth,

expecting a flick of a tail and then

away.

Across the bay

hummocks of blue green nets swaddle

Smeaton’s Pier where cars are gathered

out of place.

St Ives, all rooves and windows,

looking down.

A slate rock rubble far ...

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Strolling down old Back Road West

I thought “I know what I’d like best!”

I usually stick to my Ryvita

Today I fancy something sweeter

A smile upon my face did beam

“I’ll treat myself to an ice cream!”

Strolling down the sunny Quay

Nothing left to worry me

I slurped my cornet yum yum yum

Until to Smeaton’s Pier I come

Where lined up smiling was...

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Why do I keep hugging men?

I’ve only done it twice

but it’s so nice!

1)The gentle taxidermist,

quietly collecting coffee spoons.

2)The anorexic poet,

all whispers and gl-i-i-i-ding gestures.

3)The jokey local butcher - well,

I haven’t hugged him yet!

But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.

Now I’ve started hugging them

I don’t w...

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Oh yes! I remember that day.

You’d gone back to London

the old taxi chugging.

I waved goodbye

as you rounded the lane’s bend.

There’d been flies in the conservatory for days

and you never did approve of spray.

I went to the hardware shop to buy a can.

The man behind the counter said

“Have you seen what’s happening in America?”

I walked h...

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVKsxGyjo6g

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love in middle age is

standing in the supermarket carpark

fumbling in your backpack

for your phone.

rummaging for your spectacles

so you can read the text.

juggling technology

as your heart breaks.

hiding your eyes behind sunglasses

feeling stupid and too old for this.

love is a ridiculous woman

sitting alone on a

sodden bench

in ...

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Sitting outside the Sloop Inn

with my half of cider

reading Sexual Personae

by Camille Paglia,

wearing my sparkly pink spectacles

and taking notes

on Emily Dickinson

I feel enthroned in

independent womanhood

Only occasionally

are we truly

ourselves.

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She's all woman, Connie the lioness.

She pads around her home -

she lives alone.

A little overweight, and getting on.

Once there was a lion but he's gone.

The keeper says he died after a fall.

Seems odd to me a cat would fall and die,

the platform that they jump from is not high.

On Connie's back are deep dark marks, old scars

from some rom...

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Home was warm buttery potatoes

a thermometer under the tongue

Lucozade bubbling orange on the bedside table

cream of tomato soup after the doctor’s been.

A firework buying expedition

walking through chilly streets with dad

mum left at home.

In the shop Brocks’ boxes

blazing black and red and yellow

Jumping Jacks and Catherine Wheels

an...

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A resignation of sleeping owls

dusty newel posts, swivel heading.

Two plump packed zebras in

chocolate and ivory

one hoof coquettishly angled.

Anonymous creatures on secret missions,

fossa, agoutis, kinkajou and pangolin.

A perky bat, chittering, almost within reach.

Connie roars then sleeps, sulky browed.

She licks like my homecat but her...

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The kestrel he hovers above

Like your heart, he’s a hunter for love

His wings are so strong

His tail is so long

He’s silent but good company.

The driftwood it lies on the beach

Echoing the highest tide’s reach.

I’m driftwood myself

On the Atlantic shelf

But I hope you’re the lover for me.

Your hair it is salt from the sea

Brine-stiff...

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=og0gKmKAuhM

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the cave is dark and deep and wet

where all the mermaids hide

they keen and cry and pine to try

and catch a sailor lad

they swim in circles

at great speed

and he is sucked right down

a willing victim to their greed

oh what a way to drown

a mermaid wedding is the thing

a glorious sight to see

the sailor's final word is yes

as she...

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a yoghurt pot crushed in the muddy verge

black plastic rumpled by the field gate

a buzzard flaps, hunting, shaggy winged.

dull trees oppress.

and at the fields’ edges as I walk

I sense the shades of other quiet lives

there beneath the ashes and the oak

many dim figures soften into green.

interminable windings, little hills -

the road drones...

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Oh Josie oh Josie

Bristolian maid

If I was a man you need not be afraid

I’d love you forever my blond blue eyed pear

While you suck your sweet thumb

You know I would dare

To ask you to marry

Don’t care for John James

He’s not worthy of you

He’s just a big pain

With you in my arms

We would have such big fun

Oh Josie I love it

When...

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If I was a fisher of pearls

In nacred palaces I’d dwell.

A folio of fantasies distract

Swimming deep in opalescent wells.

Crawling up the sparkly sand

Crabs scatter like iron filings

Drawn by the magnet beneath.

I find eight ancient bottles

Lined up waiting.

I write eight poems and scroll them

Tight into the vitrine necks.

Stoppered, I place the...

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talking in the kitchen with Daljit

he says to me you have to persevere.

his undercurling smile is full of love.

not for me but for poetry.

to publish poems is to give yourself

in a concise abbreviated form.

you sacrifice the adjectives and lines

not needed for what you want to say.

but i am still afraid of letting go

of losing audiences that...

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Tis life in death appeals to me

So said my love -

Infinity.

Do not fear death but dance with me

Enjoy our synchronicity.

And when my love

The dancing’s done

A flake of ash

We’ll be, as one.

And when my love

The song grows soft

On high, in love

We’ll fly aloft.

Tis life in death appeals to me

So said my love -

In...

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I take up my embroidery

I stoke the fire

So carefully laid.

I walk to church

My prayers are said

I banish all desire.

Yet in my room

Passions consume.

Scraps of paper

Barely owned

Scrawled on

By my perfect hand.

My poem.

In all my life

Scant six

Have seen the light of day.

Yet I know where...

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God knows why we went

Wendy Pedley and me

To the Camping and Caravanning Exhibition

At Earl’s Court.

We must have thought that something else was on.

And there we saw it.

The iron lung.

Why? Why was it there?

Displayed as an exciting new invention.

Near scared two girls to death!

A long iron coffin

With a window where the eyes would be.

...

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It doesn’t matter if I cry

It doesn’t matter, no one sees

It doesn’t matter if I cry

For want of love

For want of thee.

It doesn’t matter if I speak

No one can turn my words away

It doesn’t matter if I speak

No one will hear

The words I say.

It doesn’t matter how I seem

What look is hiding in my eye

It doesn’t matter how I am

...

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His life was a roller-coaster ride

A “Look! No hands!” experience

With the smell of chip fat and gallopers

And the tang of candyfloss on the evening air.

A fairground of tawdry prizes

For the winning.

Girls eyes flash as he lights a cigarette

And a gold tooth and a gold earing glitter.

Pretty legs dangle from the ferris wheel,

Fluffy toys are hugged to ...

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Nodding heavy damp hydrangea heads hang low

Mauve and brown

And snapdragon flowers moulder in the flower beds.

Grasses seed at the lawns edge.

Summer is soon leaving.

In the town, bedraggled bunting hangs listless.

Carnival time, and posters flap.

Swallows gather on phone wires

Planning their departure.

Another summer gone.

A voice insid...

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Sometimes I think of WOL as an aquarium

With the poets as the fish.

We swim round and round.

Some live at the top of the tank

Skittering about and bumping into each other.

Some have little shoals they swim in for protection.

Some live alone in the dark depths and suddenly splash up to dazzle all the rest.

There are a few snappy piranhas!

Down below, we hear...

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Gritty dry-eyed morning comes

Glimmering around dead curtain edges.

Grey murky shroud of repetition

Forms another day.

The incubus of loneliness perches

At the foot of the bed.

I catch its glittering eye.

Soon, he’ll make a grab for my toes.

Nervously I tuck them in.

I know that next

I’ll feel his feet

Slithering up my legs

Like ...

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I thought of you today.

In a teashop in Penzance.

There were blue plastic gingham tablecloths.

It was light and airy,

Sitting with a friend

Over coffee.

And then (for there was Classic FM)

I was swept away.

Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis.

And oh, my darling,

You were there

You really were.

The teashop and ...

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If I could, I'd make for you a circle of protection.

A glade of bluebells where the warm bees drone.

A place of peace for you to sleep in.

A dwelling that you could call your home.

Where tears and fears and dreariness can never reach you

Where obstacles are none.

A place where all is calm and filled with beauty.

And it would be your circle of protection.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDfQZWLir0Q

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I've never looked at them.

They're in a cardboard box.

Very environmentally friendly -

you'd have approved of that!

I can't scatter them.

For that, I'd have to touch them,

feel their texture,

let them pass between my fingers.

And I can't do that.

I remember the first time I saw them

at your mother's flat

on a high shelf.

I didn't...

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Are you an incurable romantic?

Do you need an escort when you go out

To prevent you falling prey to love?

Have you had counselling

For your love addiction?

Do they tell you

There’s no hope

Then pat you on the head and go?

Do you suffer from a form of Tourettes

That makes you shout

I LOVE YOU at the top of your voice

Til people, shock...

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All is green under the willow tree

As chiff chaffs echo

Above the ferny fronds caressing

The divided trunk splays

From dry soil

Like an open hand

All age is in this tree

From ancient twisting base

To light young summers leaves

A white butterfly skims giddily beneath

Hurrying through a gloom

That presages autumn

Badger paths...

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Like butterflies they flock upon the beach.

So many colours!

Stripey awnings fragile tents boogie boards

bare legs and flowery shorts

sun hats and pink shoulders.

All as busy as bees!

There’s such an urgency

in damming streams

and making sandcastles before the tide comes in.

The sea is wild but welcoming.

I brought a book with me.

...

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When I have a dog I'll call her Ithell.

A boisterous shaggy madam she shall be.

We'll walk in rain and wind and drizzle

no one will dare to stop us, she and me.

Our hearts will race as we climb up the mountain.

No one can catch us 'til we reach the top.

We love the wild the windy rugged weather.

There's no fear in us when we see the drop.

We'll ...

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That rock there, reminds me . .

So many years ago

On holiday with mum and dad

I was about fourteen

Some days I saw a boy

Sitting on that rock

With his family

I think they were german

Our eyes never met

And yet

Every time I see that rock

I see him

Long bare legs, light khaki shorts

And sandals just like mine

H...

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A crystal clarity

Clinks against my cheek

Cold as ice

There’s nothing there

Ice melts

It will only leave a tear

To trickle

Brittle as stars

Love shoots off

At a tangent.

Sparks, then gone

Did you see it

Or were you looking

the other way?

Ask the Titanic

How it felt

To knock into

A transparent not...

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the sea sucks to the leeward side

a subconscious urge

a gut-tug

saving lives is automated now

with gravely klaxons bleeping

red buggies on the beach

loudspeaker warnings

and a jet ski throbbing

such a tiny strip of sand

is safe

like one inch marked

on a ruler

we all start here in the safety zone

then slowly we get dragg...

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Chewing on a filbert

Pondering and fingering

Lazing on her bedstraw

The lady thinks of love.

Of basting and of baking

Of dutious lovemaking

Of listening to tedious tales

The lady thinks of love.

A pomander of lavender

that she is loathe to squander

A noble book for reading

A cherished gift of love.

No more the hills to wan...

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Death came to the cottage,

Visited about five years ago.

Unexpected - she was only forty-two.

Left three girls and a man who couldn’t cope.

No hope.

Sometime later,

Saw him rushing down the lane in shirtsleeves.

Guessed who he was

On that freezing January night.

Something not quite right.

One day the eldest daughter sat behind me on the bus

...

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Two climbers die

Fall thirty thousand feet.

A man and woman.

And my first thought is -

I hope they were in love.

To see the other fall

When you are safe

Must be the saddest thing of all.

How long would it take

To fall thirty thousand feet?

If you fell alone

Perhaps you’d have that cliché time

When all your life cascades bef...

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The lime green nylon negligee held a fascination

as did the fluffy lemon yellow mules.

She flicked ash and her nail varnish

was a little chipped.

He was entranced.

She smelled of sex.

She led him up the stairs on slender legs.

The mules clack clacked and

her heels shone orange

in the light of a 30 watt bulb.

Her room was chilly

and the gas jets hisse...

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Above the beach

the heather is purple on the clifftop.

The tide is in.

Red and yellow flags stand sentinel.

No one is in the sea.

The sky - a woolly grey.

The sea a demon.

Soon the rain will come.

We sit on rocks.

What sand there is, too wet.

Everyone looks out to sea.

To a chaos of waves.

An anarchy of raging water.

If you were ou...

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_3_EdxODcY

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We play chess. . . . .

Can a queen take a knight

If it is her dearest wish?

Rooks and castles clatter to the floor.

The king is gone to another country.

The pawns are all against her,

The bishops are irrelevant.

But the knight, the knight

The queen so loves the knight!

Lifted onto his rangy nag

The queen catches her breath f...

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Curled as a shell curls

Pale opalescent nacre skin

Pearlised in a moonbeam.

Her neck curves gently

In seahorse shape.

And round her face,

pearled,

Sea anemones coil.

A foetal-angel

With body turning

As the wave revolves.

Shooshing waves will never wake her

Sharks sharp teeth will never take her.

Dreaming deep, whe...

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no enigmatic

moustachioed composer but

some banker named Smith

image - Dysanovic

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When you’re unaware.

That’s when I can touch you

lose my fingers in your hair

stroke your arm, caress your shoulder.

When you’re unaware.

When you’re unaware.

That’s when I can watch you

from my window, from the stair.

Watch you as you’re working

and admire you if I dare.

When you’re unaware.

Take you by surprise.

Just as you’re ...

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eR6PKtgEL_w

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Cat curled loosely on the wooden chair

in front of my computer

on a needlepoint cushion.

Old unkempt fur taffeta tufted.

Beyond her dreams she hears

the sounds of sparky sparrows

that nest behind the gutter

just above the open window.

Lots of chatter, the young are nearly fledged.

Suddenly, through the opening

flutters a baby sparrow.

Timidly fighting...

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Starfish sleepingswoony dreaming

softly sprawled.

Turning in sleep

as a wave turns on the shoreline

when the ocean breathes.

In, out, in, out

sleep gentle lover, sleep.

Heavy head sunk in the pillow

stubble jawed,

those wicked eyes are closed.

Sleep angel, let peace be yours.

I’ll bring a posy and lay it at your feet

while you’re...

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he loves the very heart of her

the blood the bone the womb

and every part of her.

scrapes passion from her skin like fishes scales

his fingers close around the very core of her.

the hot iron smell

the taste of salt

as teeth clash -

love by default.

love that doesn’t care for yesterday

or for tomorrow.

for names, for histories,

for anyt...

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She steps through mine fields, my love.

Thinking her innocence is her protection.

But she is wrong.

Wrong to believe that her heart is innocent

It's black as devil’s coal.

Songs and lilting provocation are her aids.

A pleasurable distraction from a previous pain

For her.

But stir up the deep dark depths of his soul

And a maelstrom is created.

Its ce...

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I take it with a pinch of salt

Or so I try.

But salt stings,

I’d rather let the pain go by!

It’s honey heals,

So I’ll spread honey on the wound,

The sweetest honey, from my silver spoon.

For often love and pain come,

Holding hands.

One lover may be true,

One may have other plans.

And on we sail, at loves old beck and call

Until we die, then...

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She intrigues him

descending the staircase

into the studio.

He imagines her,

having breakfast on the grass -

as he admires her arse . . . .

His studio is chill and damp.

Dark maps of humidity grace the walls

and the floorboards creak.

There’s a grimy kettle on the hob,

the grainy window panes are cracked

and in the centre of the room -

a bed...

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