No more

will I tolerate

your gentle storm

smudging its way

across my sky

It sits 

over the sun

and hardly

seems to care

where it is.

I wait for it

to blow over,

to dissapate,

to fade-

or move on.

But still

it lingers-

like that kiss

you gave me-

full and heavy.

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No more

will I tolerate

your gentle storm

smudging its way

across my sky

It sits 

over the sun

and hardly

seems to care

where it is.

I wait for it

to blow over,

to dissapate,

to fade-

or move on.

But still

it lingers-

like that kiss

you gave me-

full and heavy.

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I bend,

I turn,

I twist,

I burn,

I kissed,

I learned,

I wished....

But-

You spurned...

me

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 As I languish and yearn, wring my hands and lament-

time seems to lengthen

and the clock counting the beats of my slowing heart

shows the lack of progress and emotional content

of my day.

It tells me that despite my best efforts

by mid morning- 

I am still unloved.

At lunch time - when the hands point to twelve,

I cant quite feel where my heart actually was.

Later, d...

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Lay me down in river's rush,

carry me to the shore,

dry my skin in the smile of the sun,

-leave me wanting more.

Take my hand through meadow's mist,

scent my hair with flowers,

show me love with one sweet kiss,

share with me night's hours.

Dress and clothe me - leaf and moss,

be my love forever,

take me far but keep me close,

- nature bound together

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"There's sharks out there !"......

the woman warned.....which was madness,

as we were in a ordinary, busy high street,

on a sunny afternoon.

She was just some woman brushing past,

breath full of sour whisky-

a chilling rattle of cough and spit.

In desperate clinging fashion-

her gaze worn,

she gripped my arm, then with agile sprint leapt out into ...

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Sweeping municipal buildings 

loom inward with principled overhang.

Swooping seagulls launch lazy graceless

glaze on parkland treetops.

Sweaty armpits seep from runners-

panting painful spittle.

Sweets in tiny mouths, sticky toffee fillings-

swapping dripping lollies for fizzled nectar bottled toothache.

Swooning mothers, strained and flustered-

cleansing scr...

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Fear soaked, I drag myself upright -

unsteady but true at last,

ready to speak

to the  patient crowd,

whose forebearance lasted out.

Now willing to use my voice-

though weary and torn

by shattered hopes

and shards of spite

swallowed for

far

too

long.

So though trepidation

and much hesitation

threaten to engulf me,

it is no longer e...

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(I make no apologies for this slushy Christmas whimsy- I like Christmas , or rather my rose tinted view of it !)

Tinsel twisted,

twinkled tree.

Tresses glintling,

glowing lights.

Little smiles,

small hands.

Halls a bounty

Boundless love.

Loading stockings,

stuffing turkeys.

Tuneful carols,

candy kisses.

Kind hearts,

helping strangers.

Still nights,

nipping frost.

Fruity fea...

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The last wolf stands

with burning gaze,

amber eyes

full of moon glow.

His face tilts to the wind,

wise and true,

body and soul.

Waiting for the sunrise,

his solitude well chosen.

This born warrior

from a lost tribe-

this storm from the underworld,

searching for higher climbs.

Holding the hilltop

in silent vigil.

Looks down on hollow valleys

with roaming mists.

Greets the morning a...

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These shamans with their second sight

might tell you they are guided-

by misted past lives,

future spirits,

a distant queen,

a prophet....

or two.

They will wring their hands,

face the awful agony of clairvoyance-

annoyance and blessing they say,

heads shaking

with the pain of it all.

Cross my palm-

for the next hour

on my carousel of wonder

you will sit-

and in a bit

I will te...

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In taut tango embrace,

two coiling bodies

boldly manoeuvre

across the floor,

weaving magic

with their steps.

Caressing the music

they coax the crowd

to swell with flame,

to bubble and simmer.

Eyes burning with thrill,

craving heat,

lost and consumed

as glowing embers.

The rhythm carries

their rise and fall,

their clinch ...

then final release

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The printed voice of my enemy

tells a tale of false woes and wails,

of splintered lives-

stolen and shattered.

Poisoned, smudged, inky pages-

a narrative neither uniform or blessed with truth,

engraved with prattle and malice.

This paper bound monologue,

filled with malevolence.

Yet I am learning to guard and shield,

to gather and fold my injuries,

put them somewhere safe-

awa...

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You tumble home-

weaving your transient web

around my heart.

Planting silver weed at my feet,

rings of regret on my fingers.

Am I immune?

Even now I breathe you in

and my sighs ripple through the air

Could I forgive your careless neglect,

as you petition and plead with petals and perfume

and your kisses freckle my skin.

I look into your eyes

for a glimpse of what it means-

I guess it'...

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Dulcet notes rise to greet me

through the glaze of sleep.

Soothing envelope membrane

obscures light in glorious folded darkness.

Rooted in my glade of peace,

cloaked and veiled from daybreak horizon-

this timeless... supine ....heaven...

my sweet by and by.

Sanctuary of silent hopes and dreams-

undercover.

Faraway there are voices calling me

- a distant whine in the wind-

breathing and...

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Red rose in his hand,

"Sorry" slips from his lips,

my eyes match the bloom-

I am undone.

His look of contrite longing

scenting a path to my heart,

sweetness dripping

in time with my tears.

All I see are thorns

hooking my skin

and another empty promise

in a vase.

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Sylvan hands rough and bent

forage and range into the furrows

and creases of my terrain.

Fertile kisses like seeds,

dry land made moist,

watered topsoil seeping growth.

Planted and drilled

I am rooted and set-

awaiting life.

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Swift, sudden, sideways glances,

hushed 'off camera' murmurs.

Rumour sipped from whisperings-

flat and stale, spoken through vapid lips.

Greedy, needy eyes pinch and grasp

at my passing shadow.

This mass, this horde of polyester dress and suit,

this gathered congregation of evenness.

I am amongst them - explicit and exposed,

always controversial and different.

I portray nothing but quie...

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Nothing like love tastes so bitter in the morning

after burning all night in your embrace,

then learning my passion has been misplaced.

I am penned into my own situation comedy

with black permanent marker,

a slack smile with no laughter.

So I no longer quake, shake, rock or roll,

I am merged with dullness and deepest grey,

I am purged of useful words to say.

On the longest day I held out ...

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Memory scenes,

they blink and flicker.

Like spikes,

they prod and press,

threaten to break out

and gatecrash reality-

into this life carved

with cuts and slashes,

each day clawed and held in place,

each breath fought for.

Why must it be so hard?

These memories

forced upon me -

intrusive, unwanted,

not even mine.

As if sought out, cursed

and chosen to suffer,

I thrust..parry...loo...

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Faded banana boxes,

bulging with memories,

dusty and dumped.

Letters of hate and hope,

mixed up and messed up.

desperate documents,

torn crumpled pages,

aging lamented emails,

received and sent.

Layered down and stored -

mostly ignored,

excused from the room,

consigned to the loft.

Lie low, tarry awhile,

until I waiver and

re-visit those times gone -

half remembered tears,

long si...

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Men are like flowers,

they burst into your life with the promise of Spring's new growth.

Men are like flowers,

they are vivid and glow in the radiance of Summer's sun.

Men are like flowers,

they drop their facades like petals wilted by the Autumn winds.

Men are like flowers,

they hide under the ground and hibernate during Winter.

Some men even return in the Spring -

Beware the flowers.

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The car 'stutters' its response to cold ignition,

hesitant and sleep heavy,

lurching into some sort of limp wakefulness,

but resistant to movement.

The driver mutters obscenities to the dash board,

cold breath full of impatience,

attacking the innocent air with impotent steam,

filling the car with sharp spite.

The passenger prays silently for a miracle,

then quietly speaking, gently coaxi...

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I wanted him to be there -

that strange man with curling lip,

sitting at my kitchen table

first thing in the morning.

I willed him to come,

even as the coffee machine bubbled

and nearby toilet flushed.

I wanted to see his curly black hair

settling on his shoulders -

as he flicked it back.

I closed my eyes against the world,

the day ahead unwanted,

the sinking dishes ignored.

I coul...

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    (I realise that we are way past January but having noticed the posting today "Hum Bug" I thought ...why not. The format is concrete poetry so needs to be viewed on my personal page.)

Sian

                                            Jan

                                           -uary

                                         beckons,

                                       post-festive

...

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My father stands at the stove,

I remember him;

four burners fired up,

in control, hassle free,

exercising his cookery wisdom

for the dinner table.

All I have is his book -

precise, neatly inked recipes,

each page a culinary lesson-

A temptation to try,

or an invitation to fail?

Maybe I could souse a herring

and create ham baskets.

Would my slender attempts match up,

or would I hear ...

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Do you always have to speak that way?

With heartless grit between the teeth...

and masking what you really feel,

you speak a lie then make it truth.

Why does it seem that what you wear

is starched and neat, all shiny black?

Is it to show that you are clean...

above reproach, beyond attack?

How can you live to fight again?

When battle scarred I leave the site

and dazed, confused I m...

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       This futile existence- leathery, unyielding,

woven entangled barbed wire bondage,

       swallowed up my voice of protest,

taken my strength, left me paralysed.

       Heart burning, stomach twisted,

only my eyes betray more,

       the submerged drowning soul,

beneath the surface mirror,

       pleading for lenience.

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                         Hot Chocolate

The world's worst hot chocolate,

made from dry earth, gravy browning and water,

my daughter's face crumples in disgust,

the sit down cafe' treat in tatters.

I should have read the 'signs' much sooner,

the waitress in burgundy nylon,

picking at her nails in the corner,

silently absorbed with flaking violet varnish.

The Menu board with absent ...

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 There's a new face in the White House.

                            Built by the irony of black slave hours.

Number 44 inhabits now, mindful of black and white history.

      Aware that nothing is black or white.

                        No white wash expected in his reign.

Yet as the black ash of mistakes are dusted from his shoulder,

                                       the specks fall li...

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