a queen of not so long ago
said to a queen of yesterday 
move aside, you're in my way
to which she swished her train
the other stood as frozen rain
and neither did a foothold gain

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     The essence of what was shared          

emitting from its aromatic brew…

    in spaces we once knew, together

no lunar phase could eclipse 

this regnant cue

is déjà vu.

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From the rugged shores of Penzance, 

a figure emerges, cloaked in the salt-spray. 

A privateer, pockets jingling with spoils, 

his presence a mix of legend and enigma.

Boots press onto cobblestone streets, 

each step a promise of untold stories. 

From his coat, treasures spill forth, 

gifts from distant shores, tokens of daring.

A compass, once guiding acro...

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sat down to fingernail drum rolls
staring blandly at desk's habitat
paperclips give chase at loosened
leaves blown by climate control
sporadic demi-flight, staggering
across a well-appointed bedroom

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Scattered like stars

thoughts glimmer:

constellations of ideas

mosaics of the mind’s workings. 

Words twist and turn

a labyrinth of meaning

each line reflects

each stanza holds a riddle

Neon lights and ancient shadows

merge in a collision of epochs

their spirit breathes through the chaos, 

a tapestry woven from tradition and innovation. 

A ...

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By the cool, clear waters of the billabong,

where the willows dip their branches low,

we sit in quiet reflection,

listening to the symphony of nature.

The cicadas hum a relentless tune,

a chorus of life in the heat of day,

while dragonflies dance on the surface,

their wings catching the light.

In the shade of a eucalypt,

we find respite from the sun,

a mome...

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Body betrays while caught in a tempest

The mundane morphs in peculiar ways

A silent storm stirring within you brews

With each surge, it claims a piece of you.

The office now a swaying deck

Unsteady ground, a wretched mess

Fingers clutch with fierce might

Against this inner sea’s harsh battle.

Eyes search for anchors in the gloom

Against the tides, t...

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And then there is ‘bear pottery’ 
farming salmon adjacent to a bear sanctuary:

while waiting for spawning season 
as the ice begins to melt, 
those that have unhibernated 
are whiling the time away 
at the potter’s wheel….

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The streets pulse with the rhythm of change, 
voices rising in a chorus of hope. 
Each shout, a call for justice, each step, 
a march toward a better world.

We stand together, united in purpose, 
our hearts beating as one. 
In the glow of unity, we find our power, 
a collective force that cannot be silenced.

The world watches, and we persist, 
demanding a future where all are seen, 
...

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naught save the peddlers of art

where entertainment’s a la carte

and the menu card’s kind a faulty

yet here we’re reasonably comfy

so show us the justice of poetry

lost in the valley of minutes and years

it’s audience so glad to have been found

consumers shall ever-consume and

restlessness gaze at sighs of those at ease

the hand that wipes away all ...

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non-existent metaphors glide past

this momentarily lucid blindspot

where Snuffalopagus intimates

a sauntering, “Hiyah, Bird!”

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Three dots dancing, blinking bright, 
Like marquee lights in the dark of night. 
A rhythm timed in silence creeps, 
Promises held, secrets to keep.

Each pulse a breath, a hope replete, 
In moments paused, our souls meet. 
Thread of words, fragile yet strong, 
Keeps us close, like we belong.

In those dots, life's spark revived, 
Without their glow, we feel deprived. 
So wait, heartb...

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An outside world, ever closes in;

eavesdropping on young lovers,

envious in every kind of way—

so envious it could transform deserts,

if not for the voyeur's curse:

Intimacy reserved always to two sets of eyes,

peering in and diving into each other's perfect abyss;

intensities inexperienced, potentials fleeting.

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How have you inked this palpitant heart? Let me tell you:

Your barbs extend long and deep, 
far enough to pierce the skin of my resistance, 
with the needlepoint of your persistence.

But not only skin deep— you refuse to settle for what I had to offer. 
You broke the skin and plunged deeper than anyone ever did go, 
pierced right through every venal lining, 
polluted my bloodstre...

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Shadows chase him through
narrow alleyways and wide streets.
He quickly darts - heart pounding,
mind flickering with past confrontations.

Echoes hiss with accusations,
louder than any voice -shout. 
Fear pushes him forward,
no room for bravery or heroism.

Each sunrise finds him breathless,
unyielding, and ever hiding. 
His reflection in still waters,
a reminder of those left behin...

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Years and seasons passing 

persons moving on, away 

from moments, perfectly 

converged; perhaps still 

memory, sweet in time

Parallel courses, across 

pioneering spaces, once 

again unite, wayfarers 

through portals, dusks 

and dawns of rebirth

They walk through 

landscapes ever-

changing, where 

shadows play on 

ancient stones, and 

ligh...

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In fragments, I find you,
piece by piece,
each shard a story,
a glimpse through the cracks.

Moments drift,
unanchored,
and I catch only slivers,
glints of who you are.

Splinters of knowing,
scatter through my mind,
I gather them,
building an incomplete you.

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They cling to the weight of their quill, 

the tactile sensation, grounding them, 

yet, the digital tide pulls at their resolve, 

urging them to adapt or be left behind.

Nostalgia blooms in the scent of old books, 

memories of applause, now distant echoes, 

the poet's dilemma, a struggle within, 

to honour tradition or embrace the new.

Their heart aches for ...

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In the shadow that our hearts cast,
hatred blooms, a stubborn weed
where a garden of trust once grew .

Words, once tender,
shatter like glass,
a bridge collapsing under weight;
echoes of apologies
falling into silent abyss.

We deceive ourselves,
clutching memories like
fragments of a broken mirror;
forgetting the faces we wore,
the warmth that once held us close,
burying ...

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Today refuses to break its silence,

dawn holds its breath, the first rays

glisten on dew or frost or snow,

holding back the chorus of waking sounds.

The rooster paces, crow stifled, the air remains hushed.

You step outside, feeling the stillness,

feet crunching on frost, every step a muted echo.

Yesterday's shadows cling, hesitant to retreat,

the world precludes...

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Today has yet to break its silence, at dawn
the first rays sparkle off dew or frost or snow
followed by a rooster’s crow and we know
Yesterday rescinds its front row seat for another

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And as you walk through these familiar streets, 
You notice small details you used to overlook:
The worn-out benches where people rest, 

The graffiti that boldly splashes stories;
The fleeting smiles of passing strangers…
Each moment feels so much more precious-

Each breath a gift, not to be taken for granted.
You accept that endings are part of the journey;
Finding a truth ...

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Embrace the evening, let it wrap you
in its gentle whisper, softly gilding
each breath towards a tranquil rest.

Welcome the night, with open heart,
accept its peace, its quiet song,
for life's dance needs both shadow and light.

Surrender, not in defeat, but in grace,
allowing the natural flow of time
to cradle your spirit with tender hands.

The stars don’t resist their twilight,
...

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In the flow of days and nights,
awareness intertwines with time,
each moment birthed anew.

Full consciousness breathes
within the heartbeat of change,
not separate, but entwined with life's pulse.

The truth ignites not a fire,
but a gentle dawn,
easing shadows into light.

Presence is not static,
but dances with each breath,
each blink of an eye.

Wisdom arises not from
silent...

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Don't know what to say

anymore

my mental defragmentation 

distills my thoughts

cremated and wind scattered

water tension propelled

pond-gliding chase scenes

surrealistic ballet

Don't know what to think

anymore

mince meat re-minced

mindless in Seattle

shuttling to and fro

Brownian movements

my emotional upheaval 

seat-belted turbule...

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does breaking mirrors
really alter my features?
looking glass-cripple
 

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In a darkened chamber 

shadows twist and writhe 

Pale light spills through cracked panes

illuminating dust motes 

The air, thick with the scent of age and decay

A raven, black as a void, 

perches on the windowsill 

Its eyes, piercing, stare into the soul 

Murmurs of lost hopes and unfulfilled 

dreams linger in the corners

Quill in hand, he writes feverishly 

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Culture continues

in all corners of the globe

Summer showers’ song

1693

Maruyama keep

Yoshitsune’s long sword shines

in poor wretched place

Benkei’s lone defence

Summer grass remains today

Sepuku farewell

Back wood canopy

Over swollen river flows

Mogami boat ride

Teary eyed vista 

Yudono’s vertical drop

words cannot describe

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Have we found what eases pain, it shan’t remain;
yet hardly a memory lingers that might untether,
should even that be erased, p’raps a wound reopens-
it’s angry eye emboldens a spectrum of jumbled feelings:
tangible only in laconic holds we cannot hope to break.

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Bring on kintsugi
In the night’s cathedral hour
New life starts at dawn

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bailing soat happily out to sea

glailing foat eating up my tea

So wherever it is that I may be

a goating boat is a sight to see!
 

(... been living with this for years, do it with numbers as well, even if my clerical numeracy accuracy-efficiency is quite high. It all goes back to homework when I stammered a lot & couldn't get it right the tirst fime;nowad...

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A dragon basks in my stew, scales glinting with heat
Steam curls, weaving tales of daring quests
Potatoes anchor islands, thickening the plot
Carrots float like tiny boats on a spicy sea
Pepper flames flicker, igniting bold flavours
Onions create layers of intrigue
Garlic breathes magic
Stew simmers bold.

Spoon stirs, dragon flares
Bubbles pop with mystery
Savoury secrets blend-
Cou...

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When echo lost its shadow, 
a haunting void took shadow's place. 
No longer bound by shade's gentle grasp, 
then echo drifted through empty space.

Without its shadow, echo felt cold, 
a chilling darkness, an eerie silence. 
No longer whole, it sought the past, 
its identity lost, its voice forlorn.

A slightest whisper, a lonely sound, 
echoed through the void, not fully grown. 
I...

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The echoes of laughter fade, 
hushed whispers of a time when 
innocence wove through our days
fragile threads now unraveling.

A boy stands by the edge of the river
                    eyes wide with wonder
tracing the ripples that dance 
beneath the setting sun.
The world felt endless then
             each stone a treasure
                    each tree a fortress.

He built dreams...

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word-painted pictures
along with each season’s change
colour-splashed meanings

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We part, each on our own path
                     ...no longer united.
Shards of a once unified day, scatter.
In the long shadows of the old towers,
Babel’s echoes linger, misunderstood.

Before the tongues twisted and were lost,
Voices shared, and the plains glowed with trust.
Their dreams reached skyward, unmarred and clear
And in unity, they placed their hopes and fears.

Aft...

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A figure, stern and cold,
receives a laurel leaf with surprise.
No introduction, no warmth exchanged
                . . . just the reality of presence
                 the edge of diffidence . . .

The leaf, tender and green
rests lightly in their hand
a symbol of honour, unspoken worth.
In its quiet embrace,
               a connection begins to form;
bridging the divide of understa...

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We stand at the shore's edge, gazing at the sea.
The horizon stretches before us, unhindered.
Your eyes hold the wisdom of the tides.
Your words bring the calm where truth resides.

The ocean's song provides a gentle lull.
In its waves, our bond grows ever strong.
We speak of dreams, of hopes, and fears,
Remembering incandescence of boundless years.

As the sun sets on that distant lin...

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Picking up the internal slack,
invoking an inward tension
that emboldens one to face the day
and the prospects of oncoming ones.
Wet cheeks reveal visible cues,
flipping calendars, leaf upon leaf:
          . . . existing surrenders,
like a sparkled after-rain,
bringing a moist crystalline relief
               that fills the cracks
and mends the broken places.
 
 

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flames and mirrors flash

windows and rain, pan on screen

reflective pools, still

lines, l o n g  d r a w I n g  gaze

light, topographic texture

shade; toxic mixture

ambient perspective

people together, alone

all moving me home

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What’s a decade here and there?

Perhaps a lot if you’re past 50.

People live longer these days, so 

a spritely 70 is meant to be

acceptable, looked forward to.

If you get past the wrinkles

and the short term memory loss

remember to share your secret-

youth’s fountain is found in both

      - the realm of heart and mind

Peace with self and adjusted lif...

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You are never far away from my thoughts or heart's embrace,

we are tethered between life states and alternate existences . . .

believe me.

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With some we connect but once and that once may not be enough, so the onus on us is to connect well.

N.B.

Sad news from Texas, just a few hours ago; my first cousin (60) died suddenly, her brother, my other first cousin, having passed 30 years ago after returning home from serving in the Gulf War. The last time we were in a room together was in 1978, a few days before they left for Au...

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Take that bold step up to my words, linger until they have had their fill, each party imbuing the other, overflowing with the permeate of life. Read to your satisfaction, but read: free your mind upon these winged lines and read to your absolute satisfaction!

Immerse yourself in a tapestry of thoughts, each thread revealing a new pattern, weaving complexity into your consciousness. Let the ...

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In the still of night, 
              . . .  a voice 
becomes Dawn's first light 

Where every shadow meets its end 
Reverie ascends skyward:
a final page turned
, weary lines 
of hope, once written 
               now unwind 

Until this day comes
, we seek our peace 

Never again lost
  . . .  in darkened sleep.

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