LOVE

Love hides in the gap

Between sleep and dawn

In the space under stairs

The air above skies

And the void below ground

Love is neither left nor right

Up or down, in or out

It will not be confined

Like a ship in a bottle

Or restrained like a horse

With bit and bridle

Love keeps no appointment

If you ever meet love

It will spring out

Wit...

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PLASCRUG

There was a great ditch

And an avenue of trees

Leading directly

From the busy town

To the cemetery’s silence

Ornate gates sick with rust

Relics of grander times

When they marked the way

To ancient Plascrug

Back and forth we jumped

Across the weed choked water

There was a Scout Hut

Near a playground

A row of park benches

Where we sat i...

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ST BLAISE

St Blaise is the patron saint

His image adorns the walls

Defender of Dubrovnik

Also patron of the throat

Once a year as a young boy

Two candles beneath my chin

Held tightly to form a cross

To celebrate the feast day

And to keep my voice from harm

The priest mumbling his blessing

We sail out of the harbour

Anchor a little way off

...

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EXCITEMENT

That snow white Vauxhall Cresta

With its red leather seats

And stunning chromium bumpers

Flashing through the town streets

In the front passenger seat

I waved to friends going by

As dad raced the engine

Keeping the rev counter high

That pure white Vauxhall Cresta

With its iconic look

A classic sixties motor

The best one in the book

The pu...

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BERSHAM

We wonder amongst the ruins

Rusting trucks and cutting gear

Severed cables protruding

From weathered walls

And the pit head wheel

Still proud above us

Preserved temporarily

By municipal crumbs

And volunteer labour

Only open occasionally

For public inspection

We whisper questions

Reverentially

Here the miners lamps

Here the cramped cage

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THE OLD COMMODORE

This faded slab stands to commemorate

David Lewis of ‘The Conqueror’ late

A Montgomery man ‘The Old Commodore’

Who served under Nelson in times of war

Then as a harbourmaster in peacetime

A grand old seadog not far past his prime

Here in Aberystwyth he lived and died

His watchful eye always on the tide

In this peaceful town on Cardigan Bay

He dropped...

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TOO LATE

Too late now to strike sparks with words on poetry’s anvil

Too lengthy a journey of diversion and distraction

Now weariness forces me to pause

Beside this twisted trail

My wrinkled hand trembling as I write;

Inspirations of a lifetime compete for attention

Triumph and disappointment fight to be immortalised

But the sands fall steadily

In a glass that w...

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