Because I can no longer kiss you

no longer feel your skin

beneath my fingers

or hear you in the night

Because I can no longer call you

no longer sound your name

beneath my breath

or hear you whisper soft

Because I could not stop time passing

could not return time's sand

beneath its glass

or heal the wounds of time

Because I could not hold you here

could yet y...

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Can it possibly be true

How the twelve months flew

Really twenty-four have passed

In terror of being outcast

Since that dire vote to leave

The parties it seems must all deceive

Mindless of the real cost

All thoughts of governance long lost

So the lady May survive

Gainst all that ministers contrive

Regardless of the pundits' sense

Ever blind to the expense

Ever d...

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Twas the night before Christmas

When starless darkness held the night

With howling wind and sleet;

All through the house was ne'er a light

Dark, and a door that creaked

And despite the fire, twas cold as snow

Only the low fire flicker

Could lend the room a ghostly glow

And light the undecked tree.

I crept towards the bottom stair

Mouse-still and watching

A creak, a...

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In silence

She stole his soul

In love

He gave his heart

What took him from his course

What gentle zephyr force

What brought him to the isle

What beauty did beguile

In silence

She sought his mind

In sorrow

He felt her tears

What held him to his aim

What subtle noble flame

What kept him on his deck

What held his lust in check

In silence

She tempted ...

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The withy cross now gold!

An interlace of old,

That endless pleter braid

Beautifully arrayed:

An ornate gem to show

That love will always grow

His token glows through time

An endless poignant chime.

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It was all in her eyes

When he said

I

He saw the tear

When he breathed

L

O

V

E

He knew her mind

When he stopped

Outside the mist rolled in

As ropes slipped off bollards

When he left

He heard her say

M

Y

When the door slammed

He hoped she said

L

O

V

E

When he heard

It was all in his mind

Outside the engine sta...

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I weep for his skills:

                the perfect crafting

                of the calligraphy

She sighed, "Forge me the seal of our love"

She sighed, "Render yourself to me"

She sighed, "I am your vellum"

I weep for her artistry

He saw the curves, the loops, the cursive strokes:

                flow smoothly from his nib

                harmoniously

  ...

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It was black and white

for a while

Until the first line

was drawn

Then the pale grey people

the people who could only draw

a black cross

in a white box

began to sense

other possibilities

shading the palette

The colours of debate

splashed clumsily

over everything:

the harsh red of anger

the yellow of injustice

screaming crimson

a har...

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To wake lit by that lunar light

Toiling from the depth of dreams

Misty minded from the night

So the distant land below the window seems

Illusory

To see beyond the shaded hedge

Hear again the whisper soft

As bedewed we walked, that ghostly pledge

Those lovely echoes of a distant past yet waft

Silently

To sense again her presence there

Knowing how we walked at ease

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At dusk

a pink moon

low over the sheds

in a cold clear sky -

ice blue, yet light

hiding stars

a leaf fall

the pond water stills

but does not freeze

Much later

that same moon

lights my bedroom

in the cold night air -

velvet black, the sky

glints stars

an owl flash

my blood chills

but does not freeze

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This tree

is old

It knows its time but has grown in the ancient hedge

escaping the billhook and the thresher blade

standing 'gainst the farmer's pledge

that every stem should be neatly laid

This tree

is wise

It is as large as it needs to be and no more

its spread has grown to contain all of its leaves

and each year it grows to store

just as many leav...

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It has been so many years

since that moment of truth

when finally you were truly alone

It has been so many years

since you flew with the flames

as the organ played

something

and I looked out at the distant horizon

seeing you there drifting away

into finality

It has been so many years

since I made you a promise

I could not keep

You said

Do no...

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Night.

I am transported by

a narrow orange moon

                and a million stars

                the still cool air

                the silence of the yard

I am welcomed by

a single ghostly owl swoop

                over the sheep fields

                the creak of my gate

                the scratch of my key on the lock

then

the silent click...

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I remember exactly the spot

the place I sat

when she told me

I remember the cooling coffee

forgotten

when I was told

I remember the uncertainty

in her voice

when she told me

but

I remember how I smiled

the joy I felt

when I first knew

my almost son

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1: An Old Transformation

Her body

cold

as sea ice

lay before me

broken

by life’s swell.

I remembered

the pull of her currents and tides,

her surging waves and deeps

And I knew

I could no longer navigate

the course

we had set

so long before

As she lay before me

still, pale, cold

I wept:

for ever

becalmed

2: Lovers

Naked

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Before I go

Let me drink this rich wine

Let me sing my delight

This gold red dawn has promise:

vibrant with the cold sun

vanishing valley mists

leave damp spider web to shimmer

mistdrops on the long reeds

and ungathered lawn leaves

damply shining

against the muted green of wet grass.

This amber morning has perfection:

wonderfully wooded leaf tints

golden...

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I only try to write of joy

But you only read my sorrow

She came to me by chance

I suppose that's always so

We sang the bodies' lively dance

She rescued me from woe

She came to me in passion

I only knew my lonely life

We dreamt our bodies' ration

She rescued me from strife

The tear you see escape my eye

Remembers only pleasure

The gasp of breath yo...

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There is a time

channel mists behind, we sit at anchor for the tide

then in the early hours the Thames pilots board

and - slowly for the mist still lingers close to land -

we move up river reaches, take tugs and find our lock

to gently nudge our way between the barges

until we are tied up again in Albert's dock,

derricks swung and hatches open -

and I am free

Again,...

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As we sat

over coffee

she said

                she liked

                the blue

                of the wall

I could see a shade of green

                in the blue

The next table

                agreed blue

but

understood

me

                too.

We called it

Mermaid Blue

I wondered if that lady

                at the next ta...

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Those words we share

                and those we don't

The ones you use

                what do they mean?

So much is lost between the lines.

That inflexion or joy I might have heard

is mute

Those words we share

                and those we don't

The anger I feel in you

                what do your eyes show?

I can never know as I read the lines.

The thoug...

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He watched the leaves float

in the pond

windmoving on the surface

drop-pitted by rain,

leaves, orange-brown against the black depths

He watched the leaves stick

to the patio

wetgluing to the slate

slickened by the storm,

leaves, orange-brown against the black stone

He watched the leaves move

on the trees

wildwaving off the branches

leafstripped by t...

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10th October 2018

The radio speaks, it's daylight, I'm wakened

A momentary pause: consciousness beckoned

Sunlight on the trees says late Autumn Summer

More news on Brexit and the policy's dumber

The bins must be put out for the lorry

I had better get up, it's late and I'm sorry

There's news of a flood and a broke coffee chain

I'll email a poem to friends up the lane

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You're aching for peace

I'm hurting too

Let the arguing cease

There's polling to do

You look for meaning

I offer a word

No sense for your gleaning

I'm not sure they heard

You called referendum

I thought it was flawed

A meaningless thrum

On democracy's chord

You were not aware and

I never knew

That voting out fanned

A nationalist view

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To you, readers, I say

I am no writer -

these words

placed themselves

on my page

to tell a story

To you, writers, I cry

I am no chronicler -

these tales

spun their web

through my mind

to make a memory

To you, poets, I sing

I am no rhymer -

these lines

etched their pattern

on my paper

to form a psalm

To you, who come, I whisper

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I sat all day in the corner

awaiting a call on the 'phone

but when it came through

the voice that I knew

was nowhere at all in the room

The nurse that called me much later

knew where I was travelling to

but she never heard

the call of the bird

that flew in my traveller's dream

The doctor gave me some drugs

to keep the malaria down

but the pills that I ...

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Black steel

curling wrought iron

balustrade

Beneath me

coffee steam

and noise

rise

and a poet

sits talking

animatedly

his foot jiggling

as he gesticulates

outside

autumn sun

shines on wet roofs

and casts

tree shadows

on house walls

outside

the sea is rising

while

London sinks

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I, dreamlost,

wake

to golden leaves of beech

sunlit

from my bed

as airdew clouds over the hedge

rise and vanish

as the eastern horizon above the valley

is lost, sunk

beneath dawndrifts of mist

not yet warmed to fade

beneath the clear blue sky;

the uncut grass of the dew-wet lawn,

droplet bent:

cool promise as

I, barefooted,

explore

the cusp of the...

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She said

You could do a poem about the snails 

And meant the painted trails

Around the town

My mind ran down 

Fail

Hale

Male

Well met!

They let

Artists paint

And pattern

Snail blanks

And someone ranks

Their shell design

Good, bad, just fine!

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From beyond the far horizon arc

travelling travelling calmly on 

to swell gently across a sea

until the deep corals 

are left far behind

and the seabed 

rises sloping up 

to meet land

forcing us

to turn

to curl 

to break

to surge

to rattle stone

to shape sand 

our strength waining 

retreating quietly beneath

the wave behind our wave

a curling s...

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Last night the moon

orange sickle bright

seemed too large, low

hung over hedges

briefly eclipsed

by passing trees

dimmed by

closer light yet

always the lit

rondure

discovered

its umbral orb

to me -

I was driving

in the moondark

night

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5th September 2018

Today

on the drive home

the transcendent wonder

of the clear ice blue rimmed with golden pink

and the blackness of trees

horizon silhouettes

and bats

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Low early autumn sun

a lone long strand of spider silk

                stretched across the window glass

                above a tiny downy feather like a snowflake

shivering in the breeze

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Below the incurious sheep on the hill

                that stare at me as they endlessly chew

The sun is warm and I perch on a stone to watch quietly

As it is reflected off the surface of the lake:

                the part not covered with pond weed

                where flies dip and buzz

                dragonflies and damselflies dart

                     and hover:

    ...

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a sonnet

That thou may'st happly spend your day

Fair maid amongst the northern hills

With books and study that will oft defray

Your time and thought in winter's chills;

That there is pleasure 'mongst your shelves

Oh lady in your cottage home

Tis proven by each and everyone who delves

In dusty library vaults to hunt a tome;

That thy bookish studies are good I swear

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In the distance

the green tops to the chalkwhite cliffs

slope down to the sea

behind countless breakwaters

wading out through low waves

their wooden posts testament

to the shifting stones of time

Below the grey sky

the bluegrey water rattles the beaches

sloping down to the sea

between stark black breakwaters

mute guardians of the coast

each wooden barrier m...

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Between the wooden breakwaters

I sit on the flinty stones

to watch the grey sea

waves rattling the beach

That foaming water

that was once the horizon

where I sailed

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stone, stone, shell, flint

the rattle of a beach

of beach steps

on stones

the endless stone rattle

walking

beaches

groyne divided

beaches

And the waves

of a leaden sea

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Books make visible the writer's soul

Which bleeds its angst by pen:

Spread thin across life's whited bowl  

A thin red stain of madeleine

Books may offer us an author's eye

That ensnares the reader within its brail

Or should writers light the reader's sky

And tear apart the shadowy veil?

Books will hold the writer's thought

And bridge the gap twixt pen and read...

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It starts with that

the feel of paper

between the fingers

the paper worn by touch

the ink a little faded

but the weight of

the incorruptible text

resting on the eye

retaining its worth

for ever

Even before that

there was the heft of it

in the hand

the boards scuffed

the jacket torn

but the perfection of

that binding

resting on the palm

is ...

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It is a meeting place, this coffee house of ours

The atmosphere is friendly and relaxed,

And it is popular with everyone.

Its tables and the chairs are a mixture of styles and ages:

Metal or wood or comfy arm chairs, and benches

They must have come from an auction!

There is a full bookcase half way up the stairs

There are newspapers in a rack

Some customers read while they ...

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Kneeling at the window as if in prayer

He looks out at the night

The surrounding trees are black shadows

Barely seen against the indigo of the sky

No stars shine tonight

But an unrisen moon lightens the air a little

With an almost imagined spectral light

Somewhere over the distant lake an owl calls

And calls again

A late moth blunders against the open window

Otherwise...

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16th July 2018

In places the grass is brown and dry

The garden is a desert of cracked peat

Plants dead and trees about to die

Only my sunflower loves the heat

But this is Wales, yet

nearly all of my bees

have never known these

 raindrops

until

today

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A series of 11 short poems

End of a Galaxy

A blink

In the silent depth of night

As the last leaf of the beech tree

As the silent tear of my love

End of Harmony

I see her dancing on the sands

I see her                                     as she sees me

and in that moment

sand, sea, sun, surf

vanish in the vortex

until

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waking

in their bed

beneath the slates  

waking

as in a dream

slowly aware

waking

completely

waking

in the window airs

waking

in the hush

of the night

palely lit by her lucent light

the night

calls to him

and he walks out

the night

absorbs him

summer dew wet on his feet

her cool breath on his naked flesh

the quiet mysterious night

s...

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In that first perfect summer, that summer of love

when rifles bloomed and we turned on

and so nearly dropped out

in that year we met

and in the sun

we loved

despite clouds

that threatened us

and sought to break our love

a sad weight of parental love turned on

our first perfect summer, our first summer of love

In that first perfect summer, that summer of love

whe...

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It is so many years

since I felt some part of me wane:

all those thousands of days

since we spoke of nothing -

could find no words;

and even many more

since there were whispers

as we lay naked in the night

or in the cottage garden

beneath the harvest sun

It is so many years

that I have known that dark void:

deep within my very soul

and in all those long ...

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I sit outside the door

on a slate bench

my back against the cottage wall

in the evening sun

listening to a blackbird sing

the most astonishing sweet notes

In front of me

there is elderflower

honeysuckle

buttercups spangle the uncut grass

and the old larch looms in its corner

beyond the ancient stones of Hafod

which mark my plot

The sun has not long returned

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Thirty-nine bodies

                lay on the ground

                in the summer sun

As I watched

                workers carried two more away

Around me

                life continued as usual

                a hum of activity

                oblivious

Thirty-nine bodies

                on that square of concrete

                that summer afternoon

As ...

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When I have gone

what waits this room

with its vacuum

                where I sat?

Does

my chair sits sightless

musing at my absence

midst space bereft

                   my music play on?

After I have left

ask my empty bed

all sheeted void

                about my dreams

Does

my mattress dent

minding my long night wraiths

maintain my ...

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