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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this is very silly!

xx

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPZl4bhOTAA

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I was born feet first

dipping my toe

into the world

an only child

perhaps a lonely one.

when I was four

we moved from a

linoleumed Brixton flat

to Ealing and a garden,

an apple tree,

delphiniums, forget me knots.

I made houses for snails to play in

but they ignored them.

there was an allotment to explore.

and the park with pa...

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we moved into the garden,
don’t ask me why.
we sit near the rhododendrons
lit by the firefly.
and through mothwing muslin curtains
we watch the world go by.

a peal of bluebells is our door chime
the dandelion clock tells us the time

a hearth set in a pebble circle
to boil rainwater
for our birch bark tea.
a sacrament made by nature
for you and me.

branches are ...

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will men ever understand

why women love morse?

the most unobtainable, romantic,

idealistic, cerebral -

most fascinating man!

a brainbox!

the most erotic fix

for any woman

worthy of that title!

thinking, dreaming,

searching for perfection.

he would be . . .

the perfect fuck!

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take me down into the well of passion

let me lose myself in the seaweedy ocean

rushed back and forth by unknown currents

to give myself up to the tide.

dive dark and deep, dark and deep

on the seas rough bed,

with tangles of  black kelp 

and brandy snaps of coral,

serenaded by the whales song,

to feel a salty freeflowing pleasure

at your sailo...

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i can feel the heat rise from my skin

the hot pink temperature of pain

self inflicted!

oh foolishness!

why did I never think the sun would be so hot!

a soreness makes me aware

of my vulnerability,

of the softness that is me.

a delicacy of skin and flesh and bone.

when even clothes cause pain.

delicacy to dying

is but a short journey.

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Someone once explained

That daft offside rule to me

I quickly forgot

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It’s gone now

And all is pure.

The water has no ripple

The breeze has fallen

And in the sky

The heavens are smooth.

The clouds float seamlessly

And all is clean once more.

The grass is green once more.

At nightfall the moon rises

Like a wise witch,

One who knows it all.

For the breeze has fallen

And the grass is green once more.

The fox sl...

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ease your toes into the puddled sand

and squeeze the softness

between those baby bones!

you’re squeezing rock

you’re pressing eons

vast periods of time

trilobites and iguanodon!

and maybe somewhere

there are pieces

knocked out of the moon. . . .

a comets trail

a shooting star

a meteorite

all the way from Mars. . . .

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She gives good head, the poetess

because her mouth is full of poems

and her inspiration is love.

Words spill out of her when she comes.

Her breasts are a rhyming couplet.

The poetess is good in bed,

her pillows are full of soft vowels

and her eiderdown’s a sonnet.

“Make me rhyme” she says.

“Show me a good time”

(for her poems are not very good...

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The lioness shall be my mother

Her huge strength will be my shelter

Golden arms will hug me tightly

Lioness will be my mother.

The elephant shall be my father

In power and wisdom he shall guide me

With noble thoughts he will instruct me

Elephant will be my father.

Let the zebra be my sister

Let us run in joy together

Ever playful, ever cheerfu...

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  "I am the woman who lives in a cave

on the beach, out of reach.

I didn’t always live in a cave

I had a home, was not alone.

I don’t wear shoes

no blue suede blues

seaweedy hair

but I don’t care

my food is free

and good for me

and as I sit

the water drips

the rocks are black

against my back

the roof is high

the seagulls fly

and I...

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I’m formed from clay

turned on the potter’s wheel.

Spinning made me

and I spin still.

Smoothed thumb and finger

and wet earth.

From honest mud,

that was my birth.

The gods made me to carry the can.

Poor womankind, to get the blame from man.

They put in my possession all the gifts

without my knowing

when the pot was raw,

that they were t...

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In the woods the trees are heavy with green

but it is cold for May.

The fat brown dog shambles her way along the stream.

Quiet scatterings of wood anemones pale as ghosts

gather under hedgerows

and a few thin bluebells hang their heads,

ink blue.

The trees are heavy with green.

The colour hangs like guilt,

a soft miasma of potential sadness

yet to u...

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Withdrawal of love

Causes pain,

Engenders blood.

The spiny shards of love

Are hard to lose.

It’s like removing some great thorn

From flesh

Made tendersore by loving and by kisses.

Withdrawal, more than murder,

Causes pain.

When love is pure,

Was certain

But no more.

Withdrawal of fine love it causes pain.

And so, with heavy heart

...

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i woke up this morning and right away

i knew it was a stan laurel kind of day

my hair was standing up like fresh cut hay

cos it was a stan laurel kind of day.

avoiding bossy wives with rolling pins

wearing my stripey nightshirt that comes down to my shins

carrying a piano up twenty flights of stairs

another fine mess i’m in and no-one cares

didn’t go ...

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His final hours were happy ones, remembering.

Back in the days when he was a lauded YBA

in black framed glasses and gold lame.

His style and his Yorkshire tongue

incongruous in 1961.

His mind drifts back, he’s there again

painting portraits of beautiful friends

with their hounds lazing at their feet.

On opulent Chelsea afternoons.

And then those ...

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I always felt so sorry for the hound

the piteous beast, alone and chained

up on the tor,

his lips and eyes lined all around.

With phosphorous.

The pain he felt was never mentioned in the book.

I never cared for young Sir Henry and his fate

when that dumb creature

with his heart so great

was imprisoned there in ruins ancient.

Distorted, tortured to i...

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Two steps on the water

That’s me.

I’m the devils daughter

That’s me.

You wouldn’t think to see me

That’s me

You wouldn’t want to be me

That’s me.

An angels wroth the deaths head moth

The quicksand strand the speckled band

The poisoned dart the straying heart

The fever you catch the itch you can’t scratch

The note that’s flat the mummi...

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I have decided that we should all dance more! Instead of discussion threads that sometimes end in fisticuffs (this years latest fashion accesory) POETS MUST ALL DANCE for at least 10 minutes a day. Well, I will if you will!

eternally yours

old bossyboots!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

...

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She was pure as the blackthorn

Sweet as the apple tree

Trusting in nature

Oh how she loved me!

Her heart, an open book

Her soul was a dove

And when she looked at me

Her heart it said “love.”

I courted her in maytime

When blossom hung low

I told her I loved her

Wanted her to know

That my heart it was heavy

As the flowers above

...

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she swoops and dives around him

like the first carousing swallow

chatters and sings

on loves new wings.

she trusts him.

circling him

like bright ribbons in maytime

she doesn’t care

where the path will take them.

up and on they go

cloud-high now

into the sky’s breath.

the path is steep and stony

but she does not see.

...

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I have a bedroom full of rooks and roses

A willow tree grows on my window sill

A cooing owl is perched upon my wardrobe

And down my staircase runs a rippling rill.

An iron cooking pot steams in the kitchen

A woodworm table stands upon the floor

A hundred candles gleaming in the twilight

A golden heart, the knocker on my door.

A silken rug as thick and...

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Men and women aren't the same

it’s written in the stars ;-)

Because I come from Venus

and you lot are from Mars.

Yet on a summer evening

if you would hold my hand

gaze into my Venusian eyes

I know you’d understand.

You’d speak sweet Martian nothings

into my shell-like ear,

translated to Venusian

t’would say “I love you dear.”

And our eyes wo...

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sitting on that rock

smooth and twirled as a rollercoaster

or the oilyslinky hide of a minke whale.

that was me!

breezy fingers ruffle hair

smiling, eyes squint at the sun

hoping, alone, not lonely though.

that was me!

imagining the space beside me - filled

yet still content to leave it empty

gently dreaming.

that was me!

w...

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the men thought they'd be centre stage

they trained their wives

they chose their ties

they lay in wait!

they'll be on the front page every day

no escape for us!

but what did they know?

VOLCANO!!!!

(and in the cities they can hear the blackbirds sing)

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FEocnp2qiw

hope you're all chillin'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCYf2pBdZvg

like this one too

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

tres bonne xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xx

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If I could be your doxy

we’d meet down dogshite alley,

we’d rage, rampage and copulate

as the old rough bells tolled two.

You’d tear my smelly petticoats

I’d call you my old smelly goat

but I’d luv ya and I’d luv ya

and you wouldn’t care what you’d caught.

If I could be your doxy we’d never mind the poxy

or the blemishes of skin,

the pits and ...

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a silly song for my cat! xx

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I get so sick of married people.

All those husbands and wives.

The Bisto-flavoured Katywomen.

Coupledom, smugness, all that crap.

I hate that!

Why am out here on my own

chopping wood?

Why is it that a glass of wine

is my only friend at the end

of the day?

Where have I gone wrong?

Why do I have to be so strong?

I know it’s not rea...

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I see it in others.

The gentle touch.

Been together for so long.

The patina.

Why did you leave me

long before the surface

was all rubbed to a gentle

mirror shine?

To make that object

that we feel the need to touch?

The patina.

The glow, the richness.

Being robbed of that conclusion

seems unfair

somehow.

And so I polis...

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I want my own dedicated water damage claim handler

because emotions are flooding through my house.

I want my own dedicated water damage claim handler

because your tears are flooding,

forcing me out.

I want my own dedicated water damage claim handler

to sort out the condensation of my guilt.

It’s steaming up the windows and I can’t see out.

...

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So, shyly, she slips out of her life.

She tried it, tentatively,

she dipped a toe into the water

but found it to be cold.

Life turned out to be a shoe

that never fitted her.

A shade of lipstick that was just too bright.

A song that played

always too loudly.

So now, slipping through

the sea green opacity of another ocean,

at last sh...

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Just as cavemen wondered about rainbows

I find I sit and wonder over you.

I marvel at your mystifying glory,

don’t even understand the things you do.

What is it that my beloved’s made from?

What focus’s the glory in the sky?

The fleeting wonder was a joy to cavemen

too dim, like me to understand the “why”.

I can imagine all those lumpy cavemen

sitting r...

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Whisper-rustle bushes tell a tale that I am here.

Hiding from you, huntsman, wishing I could disappear.

And yet, and yet, to see your face I’d willingly appear.

For you are the sweetest huntsman

I have ever come upon.

Your stealthy soft approach I fear

it really turns me on.

To see you follow stealthily

in your leggings green.

They really are the sweete...

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love was never smooth

tenderness and anger bind

now there are ashes

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Peggy wanders down the rainypuddle path

rescuing worms from a drowny fate.

She walks quicker now.

She mustn’t be too late!

She pops them by the hedge

where they can wriggle free.

“Goodbye worm. Good luck!”

says she.

Peggy saves the pips from her lemon tea.

She plants them in old baked bean tins

with holes stamped in the bottom.

She never gets le...

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let me die a poet’s death,

a what shall my last words be?

kind of a leaving.

to make sure there is no-one at home grieving

as they just ponder on my wise words of departure.

let me drift off just as I’m composing

how I wish to be remembered, as I am reposing

in my best poet’s lacy shirt

with wild neck tie flowing,

so they will not dwell upon my go...

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little goblin-face

hanging up like an unfurled black umbrella

spread the webbed gabardine of your wings

and twitter your secrets to me.

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couscous and petticoats

a bidet and faded wallpaper

in a fusty room

that overlooked the Gare du Nord.

the Jeu de Paume.

art nouveau lamp posts

and strong black coffee in a tiny cup.

hands tied gently to a rusty bedpost.

a long lost french weekend

 seems so long ago . . . . .

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWtgd3Q7Rsk

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSOSmmi1dHw

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aroma of joy

banging whirring contraption

lovely bread maker!

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I hate you!

You can’t even spell!

I love you!

Must be your secret smell!

Why is it ?

That I cannot resist?

I love you!

And that’s the final twist!

The pain!

Your beauty binds me so!

I love you!

And you will never know.

Surely

Behind those eyes so blue

I must see

The inner truth of you.

You fool me

With such cerulean gaze

Yo...

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Intoxicate me, lady bountiful!

Let me sink into your wantonness.

Sidle up to me with your lazy glamour.

You are so gloriously soft

with a generous sumptuousness

and a voluptuousness profound.

Somnolent with pleasure

you are the queen of all the bees.

And all I can think of is

Your honey, honey, honey!

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If you listen you can hear it

padding softly up and down.

Whisperpaws and fleeting shadows

just that feeling, it’s around.

In the space between the shadows

there is safety, there is hope.

Just slip through to where it takes you

clinging on to safety’s rope.

I can hear you, feel you tremble,

rugged creature of the dark,

of the sea and win...

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Fanny my Indian cow

She cheers me up somehow

She’s got one horn

Her tail is gone

But she cheers me up somehow.

She’s probably got dry rot

And that’s not all she’s got

Her feet are broke

She’s a pig in a poke

Fanny my Indian cow.

But she’s got such a pretty face

Even with no style or grace

She’s sweet to me

Though no beauty

Fann...

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One minute she looks like a goddess

shimmering on the brink

glowing with a secret.

People stop her in the street

“You look so beautiful” they say

amazed indeed at such translucent loveliness.

A moment passes and a thought.

Suddenly faded, who is she now?

They don’t recognise her anymore.

Like a plane crashing a thousand feet

in one second

...

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I thought I’d met a man

Who saw the real me.

He held a buttercup beneath my chin.

He said “My God!

You don’t like butter!

I’ve never heard of that before!

You are a living miracle!

For every maiden’s chin blushes with gold

When beneath her face

A lovely buttercup I hold”

I was impressed for he was right.

I don’t like butter.

Butter mak...

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It's 1832

And I am nine

This is my house.

I'm sitting by the fire

But I am cold.

My clothes itch me.

And I have to do my sampler.

Here are the windows of my house.

And there are flowers in the garden

But I don’t know what they are called.

This is my house.

My mother died.

But we don’t talk of her.

This is my house

And it...

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   I love you

my wicked little witch!

Is it the whiff of sulphur in your hair?

Or your cat’s-eye pupils when you look at me , 

with what?

Love, pity, fascination?

I can never tell!

   But now you’ve cast

    your potent spell.

And so I love you

my little witch.

Is it your pointy little feet

dancing all around me in the street

leaving n...

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And so I lose you

As I lose every man.

I never had you

For it was over

Before it began.

You’ll never know now

The passion of my lips

And it’s lost to you

For all time.

The pleasure of my hips.

If you could hear me

But you were deaf to all.

You have your safe life

Why would you choose to fall

For such a strange one

So...

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spindly rickety ballerina,

so lanky you’ll fall off yourself.

you sweet poem of uncoordination

a prayer for your mother,

your world is opening in sunlight.

new freedom as your legs learn to obey.

warmmilkmother nurtures

and everything is new,

everything is joy.

you lanky daffodil of springtime,

tremulous on skittering hooves.

new smells sp...

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if sheep had long necks

so that they could reach more grass

would they be llamas?

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Entomb me in a chapel of rosequartz

for I need healing,

with incense at my head

for I need sleeping,

a pink tinged tomb

where I can find oblivion,

a dawnpink home

where I can rest my heart.

Just lose me in a chamber full of light

for I seek dazzling,

with candles all around

me in the night

for I need warming.

A safety zone

wher...

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mum, still in my heart

children grown but love still strong

 two cards - I’m happy

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fox comes thursday night

scatters trash willy nilly

. . . bin men come Friday

photo Sam Driscoll

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spider in the bath!

did he come up the plug hole?

when is he going?

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Diplodocus blunders through the swamp

He’s munching moss and singing to himself

He’s humming cos he doesn’t know the words

Diplodocus is a little thick.

Tyrannosaurus boxes through the trees

Punching the branches biff biff boff!

Grunting and puffing

Tyrannosaurus is a street-wise dude.

But even he admits he’s getting on a bit.

Stegosaurus daydream...

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my dog's got an asbo

but 'e didn't mean no 'arm

'e was only playin

when 'e chomped off your arm

'e was only teasin

an' tryin to have a laugh

'e didn't really mean it

when 'e bit your kid in 'alf

an 'e was only jokin

when 'e tore off your dog's 'ead

i know 'e's very sorry

that the sweet chiwawa's dead

and anyway, it's all your fault

so don't ge...

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If you were mine, if you were mine

they’d never see us more than half an inch apart.

No one could get a piece of paper

in between us.

There’d never be a time

when your hand was not in mine!

When I wasn’t running my fingers through your hair.

When my arm was not around your waist

and my tongue wasn’t tickling your ear.

I could always be found

...

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They’d been a romantic item

for really quite a time.

They’d met one night in April

when he’d been fishing on a line.

They’d started with a struggle,

arguing over a tasty fish.

And it had really burst his bubble

when he saw she was such a dish!

He takes her down the local pub

where there is no mermaid ban

and all his friends and cronies

think he is a ...

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they thought he was just

cream crackered

then sadly they realised he was

in fact

brown bread

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The carpet fitters broke my pot

they didn’t even care,

they tipped the pieces in the bin

like it’d never been there.

I must admit that I was wrong

to leave it on the shelf

but I just feel so sodding cross,

not going to blame myself!

They thought I’d never notice it,

that was the real insult.

If they’d just apologised

I would’ve excused their guilt.

...

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He stands so still

Like a real person

His presence so complete

His character so strong

Aged and tatty

He’s almost too big to contemplate

His head is on one side, to look at me

He has a kind face

Like a Martin Brothers’ oddity

But there’s no denying, he is unsettling

Nearly too big for my room

I hope we’ll be used to each other by the morning

But I...

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I lie against you

looking up at the

pale hill of your hip.

Getting to know

the lie of the land,

familiarising myself

with your contours.

Suggested bluffs and plains

as the moon sets behind your shoulder.

Fingers wandering along new pathways.

A meander into paradise.

Slipping off the beaten track,

I know it will be a smooth journ...

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{  my knee

{*  kiss my knee

! how it feels

? then what will be

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we are, I think, a gentler

society, nowadays. 

A tv presenter,

young and gay,

comes to a sticky end

in his own way

but still, sweet little old ladies

are so proud to call him friend.

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Slippery eel, slippery eel

no one knows how you make me feel.

Look forward to grasping your coils all day,

you hiss, you smile, you slide away.

Poisonous snake, poisonous snake

you don’t know the risks I take.

Give my heart, you swallow it whole,

just a lump in your throat, and that’s your goal.

Greasy worm, greasy worm

knowing all night I twist a...

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there’s no name for the back of the knee

or so they say.

that delicate area of skin

so gently folded when we kneel

a whispersoft place for your secret knowing.

there’s no word for how I feel,

a million spring to mind

but they won’t do.

no, nothing can describe

that exquisite tingle that floods through me

when you kiss the back of my knee

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I’m so tired today

The moon kept me awake all night

She wouldn’t let me get away.

There was so much moon-energy going down

She kept pulling me back from sleep

Wanted an audience I guess.

For her beauty.

Or was it all a ploy

To make sure I was just too tired

To appreciate the sun?

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The wind’s busy today.

It bustles and hurries

flipping bin lids

as it goes.

The wind’s forgetful today.

It rushes past me,

can’t remember where it’s going,

turns back

and rushes past me

again.

The wind’s playful today.

Stripping the leaves off the trees

to leave them naked.

The wind’s chatty today

laughing and giggling

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a delft bowl

a fragment of coral faded like old lace

a carved fruit made out of apple wood

a long black feather

a marble with a flicker of flame at its heart

*

the window sill

*

Look out of the window

*

a trampled path

reflexions in puddles

a scattering of sparrows in the hedge

a field sloping up a hillside

seven black cows

*

...

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kE0pwJ5PMDg

Read more …

 So here’s to the heart then.

The pure and beating one.

So full of blood

hot and pulsing.

And here’s to love

love and the heart

as one.

Debauched in its own sanguinity

or pure and true,

it is the life

and it is the death

of you.

Turned into a benign design,

a posy or a valentine.

But the true heart

it smells of...

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Walkin down the road I got

Cold feet.

Something to tell ya I got

Cold feet

Back of my mind I got

Cold feet

They say love is blind I got

Cold feet

Maybe it’s not worth it got

Cold feet

Shiverin all over cos of

Cold feet

Got to say I love you but those

Cold feet

I just seem to clam up, it’s my

Co...

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Ladybird ladybird

fly away home

your house is on fire

your children are gone

The fire engine’s racing

up over the hill.

Where are you ladybird,

far away still?

The neighbours are crying

cos your babies are burned.

You’re always lying,

you never returned.

Going out on the town

just whenever you can,

going out drinking

...

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Grief is like a wrecking ball

made out of ice.

A lump of ice that thumps you

in the heart.

You go for days,

it’s like it always was.

And then . . . .

a name, a thought, an image or a song

and here it comes.

Here comes the wrecking ball again.

I wear a hard hat every day,

it does no good,

I know that I am going to fall -

and here it comes...

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Little fox little fox
what are you dreaming?
Cascadings of blood and
downpourings of feathers?
Of red coats and trumpets,
of fleet hounds and horsemen?
Or screamingscreetch couplings
in cold winter meadows?
Of mother’s milk warmth
and the tussles with brothers,
of hiding and seeking
and pouncing on flowers?

Or do you dream nothing
but just soak the warmth up
in you...

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The key with it’s number tag.

Ours for the week!

The slightly damp chalet,

the scratchy grey blankets.

A pink flash of foxgloves

at melting green windows.

Pastel blue egg cups

found in musty cupboards

with glass salt and pepper pots,

a dish for the trifle.

Jazzy grey lino

and bunk-bed excitement.

Rainy-day puppet shows

with toys playing ...

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Slender as a sliver of paper

as she slips through the door

ajar.

Light as a leaf in autumn.

I pick her up

she almost floats away.

Eyes swivel slowly

to look at me.

We love each other.

I know this.

And I know this too.

People who say that cats can’t love

are wrong.

My cat

at eighteen.

We are a knowing pair.

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I got the valentine’s day blues

I got the valentine’s day blues

I ain’t got no valentine

I’m not yours

And you’ll never be mine

I got the valentine’s day blues

I got the valentine’s day blues

Go to bed each night on my own

Wake up in the morning

And I’m still alone

I got the valentine’s day blues

I got the valentine’s day blues

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The highly sexual rabbit

pokes his nose out of the hole and sniffs . . .

sniffs the fire breathing dragon.

He can detect smoke on the air.

He feels aroused,

the highly sexual rabbit.

The skinny rat he lives with

pulls him back in.

She doesn’t like the look of him.

Dragon feels happy alone

free and breathing her fire

but . . ...

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 egg is perfect

egg is full

egg is patient

egg is still

egg is power

egg is grace

egg knows all

there is to know

egg eternal

egg transcends

earth cracks

egg mends

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We ricochet from pillar to post

buffeted like an atom in the Hadron Collider

smashed up from emotion to emotion

from love to guilt to fear

to lust to passion back to love again.

Made dizzy in this hollow biosphere

and round and round and round

we go again.

And on the windscreen of the world

we only form a smear.

A brief streak made from

blood and swea...

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Let me back, just a little.

I know you had to hide my picture in a drawer.

But it’s been two years now.

You can let me back a little.

Can’t you?

I know you’ve painted the kitchen pink.

That’s O.K.

I’m cool with that.

But maybe you could bear to look

at my favourite book

again.

“Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”.

You coul...

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I want to be your bicycle

   I want to be your bike

I want to be your bicycle

let you do whatever you like.

I want to be your coffee cup

pressed against your lips

I want to be your leather belt

pulled tight around your hips

I want to be your handkerchief

I want to be your hankie

I want to be your handkerchief

you can wipe your nose on me.

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It was a few months before

I could eat an avocado again.

They were a sort of ritual with us,

we had one with our evening meal,

half for me and half for you.

When you were here.

It always was a risk.

They were such temperamental things!

Sometimes their skins were thick and leathery

you couldn’t tell until you’d cut the flesh

if they were hard as rock...

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I know you’ll never understand me.

But does it matter?

The magnet that draws me to you

is shaped like love.

I’m mesmerised by its weight and texture

the smooth curve of the magnet -

a horseshoe on which I sit and wait.

I swing my legs.

When will you come?

photo jiformales

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Don’t build me a coffin

of coromandel wood,

just leave me be.

No ormolu brass handles,

not for me.

No church, no pews, no prayers

and not that final curtain call.

Please.

Dress me in white lace

as for my wedding day.

Carry me to the meadow

and just let me lay.

Circle me with daisy chains

if you must

for there is nothing more to say

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Strong and lonely light house,

bleak master,

faithful presence

guarding me from harm.

Never to have a companion -

for what good would two light houses be,

standing close together?

You are wisdom,

strong father,

faithful lover,

but in your isolation

I want to cry for you,

tears salt as the sea.

For you, for me.

No one will ever visit you,

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The soap slides from my fingers

like a slippery mango stone.

Gleaming blue,

your eyes sparkle,

bright-cut,

engine-turned.

And I splash you.

Your toes dig into my hips

as I lean forward

to kiss your lips.

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ImageTristan Savatier - www.loupiote.com

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Take off your clothes and come with me

it’s Candlemas, so mote it be

pure nakedness, we’ll feel no shame

it’s time to play the Candle Game.

The men are sitting in a round,

a tinkling bell, the only sound,

a candle passed from hand to hand.

They really are a merry band.

Each woman stands behind her man

what she must do, that’s if she can,

blow ...

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Please don’t trample on my heart,

step carefully where bluebells grow.

Admire the violets of my eyes,

the roses, as my lips I show.

Don’t steal the blossoms from my breast

or snip the blooms with your sharp blade

to press my petals in a book,

and rob the garden I have made.

In secret place I bloomed alone,

you found me in this valley deep.

Wit...

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feathers.

When I think of you

I feel feathers

Tickling the soles

Of my feet.

They feel like

Turquoise feathers

Long, lush, soft.

I think maybe

They’re feathers from a fan

And each spoke of the fan

Is studded with pearls

And opal spangles.

And then . . . .

You make my toes curl.

Palomino.

And there are gilded...

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The awful Eve within me lights her fire

Puts all my ease and comfort on the pyre.

A hateful Harpy zooms out of my head

She takes command, she rolls me in my bed.

I toast the ancient goddess - love and lust

I let my good name fall into the dust.

Where has all my well-trained goodness gone?

Just hunger, with your flesh to feed upon.

Excruciating pleasure, let me go

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Each day they come. We see them on the shore,

come rain or shine.

They climb aboard the boats, some with excitement,

some with trepidation.

Some look really sad.

Poor things!

The boat speeds out to where my friends and I

are frisking in the waves.

We wait for them - it’s our job, it’s what we do.

Now.

With help, they timidly descend into our r...

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The weaver wears a shawl coloured like moths.

Her gold rimmed glasses twinkle in the glow.

She hums a secret song, the notes

get interwoven with the woof and weft.

From her beloved’s ivory brush and comb

the secretly collected threads of hair

are delicately spliced into the cloth,

a little gleam of gold that shimmers there.

She’s stitching now, a poem...

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I see it as a memory,

gleaming.

The stooks of corn

the patient folk

coming home from evening church.

There's something strange

as in a dream,

and over all

the moon hangs

like a golden sovereign

heavy with summer

and the deep rich night.

I want to join them

in their solid procession.

I want to follow them

to their humble homesteads.

...

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The world whirls round

a whizzing mandala

of unrecognisable images.

An action painting

made of light.

Faster and faster

in fishnet tights she spins.

And she wonders

“Does he still love me?”

or is there another

knife thrower’s assistant

waiting in the wings?

She’s strapped too tight to struggle

as he begins to throw knives.

Hopefully,...

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Blackbird, you’re singing again!

And I’m so happy!

You’ve remembered your song.

It’s been so long

through all the dreary days,

days without your song.

But today it wasn’t just the sun

that shone.

Blackbird! You’re singing again!

And I’m so happy

that you’ve found your voice once more

as I’ve discovered mine,

with poetry,

and for me, it’s for ...

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Slipping a tentative toe into her boots,

which cling like silver fishtails to her legs,

she hoists on her armour with a little shudder.

It’s cold and heavy and she knows

that all day it will weigh her down.

Glances for reassurance at the stone,

a mighty cairngorm crystal on her belt.

Sees her reflection gleaming in its depths,

a pale soft woman, so many tea...

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Are you in the marriage tense?

Or is it in the past tense?

Will I be your future tense?

Or are you in the marriage, tense?

Is your past imperfect?

Will our future be pluperfect?

Or are you in the marriage tense

While I’m the past imperative?

May I be interrogative

And ask you if you’re negative?

Are you in the marriage tense?

Cos I’m feeling so subjun...

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My wings beat

they almost creak

but I don’t feel the weight of them.

After hundreds of miles

it’s all the same to me

it’s all the same.

I don’t know why I’ve come back again,

the old familiar track across the sky

it brought me.

My head turns as I look

from left to right

to see my comrades.

But one familiar face is missing.

She is missin...

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a white dove was sitting on my pillow

soft on soft

white on pearly white

a cooing purring preening thing

she looked me in the eye

her eye was beady sharp

judgemental dark.

A small red fox was crouching

at the foot of my bed

he grinned at me

his hot coat burning in the dark.

I liked him better than I liked the dove.

The dove said “don’t do it

b...

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Do you remember when they landed on the moon?

I do.

A schoolgirl, I was obsessed with it.

The jerky images on the TV,

the bounding jump, the giant leap.

And I remember going into school next morning,

but something else had happened in the night.

The father of a girl in class had died

and all her friends were gathered round,

and all that I could think to...

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I hide in bushes just to see your face,

I have to watch you in your day-to-day.

I hover over you when you’re in sleep

my fingers stretch and strain to touch your skin.

It would be so simple just to take,

but I must not.

I must not drag you in.

To enslave you in this hollow hell.

My eyes are hungry and my hands are hot.

And as you pass, I sigh.

...

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Our winter visitors

I must get to the shop!

I know it’s snowing and

there’s ice on the ground!

It’s freeeezing!

But I’ve just run out of bird food!

Oh no! what will the little creatures do!

Without my constant supply

they will surely turn up their little claws

and die.

So off I go

a-tumbling and a-sliding down the lane.

A sheet of ice ...

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If I had a horse

If I had a horse what would it be?
A pretty little palomino mare
with spiky legs and chamfered hooves?
With sequins tabulated in a mane
of ivory silk
and nostrils delicately flaring?

A tossing head of Arab line
ears pricked, nose fluted, retrousee?
A forelock provocatively
tumbled
over one eye.
A my little pony, just for me.

Or a bold black stall...

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It’s got to have the WOW factor,

to look better than the rest,

so we’ll stand out from the crowd

and all our friends will be impressed.

It’s got to have an en suite

attached to each bedroom

so I’ll savour the aroma

when you go to the loo.

I’ll need a walk-in wardrobe

for all my walk in clothes,

a sauna and Jacuzzi,

I really must have those,

...

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Old Pollyanna

lived up the lane

in a tiny cottage

honest and plain.

In her eightieth year

they said she couldn’t cope.

To go into a nursing home

was her only hope.

Her bags were packed

the date was set

but old Pollyanna

she wasn’t finished yet.

She’d had one ambition

since she was a child

to do something crazy

to do something wild.

...

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If you can read this

you’re too close.

That’s what he used to say.

If you can read this

you’re too near

and I can’t bear it.

So be on your way.

Respect my private space.

Don’t get in my face.

If you can read this

you are too close

for comfort.

Just go away.

If you can see

the colour of my eyes

then look away.

You’re ...

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my love is like the train

waiting at the station

where no one gets on.

my love is like the last

wilting bunch of flowers

left at the garage forecourt.

my love is like the broken egg

in springtime

left lying beneath the tree.

my love is like the party

waiting to begin

and no one comes.

my love locks the door

and takes th...

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They have to flirt
it’s in their contract
though he hates her
and she hates him.
They have to spar
to make eye contact
he’s masterful
she’s acting dim.
They have to
almost touch each other.
He’s got BO
she’s got bad breath.
They have to flirt
it’s in their contract
although he hates her
half to death.
She plays the mum
he is the dad
to make the news
more comfy for us.
Cos we’re all babies
we can’t take it
to see the...

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They say wood for the fire,

it warms you twice.

Once when you chop the wood

once more when you burn it

on your fire.

Your love it

warmed me once

and now

in the memory of it

I feel that warmth again.

So thank you darling

for your love.

It warmed me twice.

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my cat is being twit-like!

twit-like little cat!

she doesn't like her food

SUDDENLY!

little twit-like cat!

doesn't she know IT'S SNOWING?

doesn't she know THERE'S SNOW?

that down to the sodding village

i do not want to go?

just to get her something different

that she won't like anyway?

grumpy little twit-like cat!

please go away!

(O.K. - where's me boots!)

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The black splat shape of the ragged rook

the egg-smooth hoot of the owl sailing.

The skittering bat goes back and forth

as we walk up the deep dark lane.

High hedges make a secret path

cushioning the sides of our home journey.

A confetti of moths scatter in our wake

an escort for our returning.

The torch is abandoned,

the night is so pretty

we follow our noses

across the wide ...

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See that bloody weather girl’s pregnant again!

Can’t see a ring!

Sticking out as far as Cardiff, she is!

I can’t see a bloody thing!

Shouldn’t be allowed,

weather girls up the duff.

At least with the girlie newsreaders they’re behind a desk

so you can’t see it so much.

Used to like this weather girl,

pretty, nice eyes, good legs.

Couldn’t keep them together though could she!

Huh!

But...

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I want a softened image.

Breathe on the lens for me

smear butter on the glass

let things slide gently

in and out of focus.

Don’t want a high definition kind of love

let it fade

let a misty haze

play on our bodies

as the shadows deepen

and we move softly into

our inner space.

I know we’re not perfect now

but then we never really were.

...

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