Summer half over
Dusty feet in worn sandals
Show my ten brown toes

Shadows caught
waving curtains
nervous fingers
ever tapping
never still
beyond
and
beyond
and
beyond
the endless glassy spirals
filled with glassy spirals of their own
shattered fractal light
tight and broken pieces
filter
flicker
gutter
fall
in darkness
lie in muted heaps
so die the painted shades of sleep

Talk to me in Spring
of bright and coming things
a butterfly wing of words

Talk to me
in drowsy tones of endless Summer haze
fill the lengthening days

Talk to me
in woodsmoke Autumn,
when the nights close in, begin

Talk to me
wrapped in a cloak of Winter
melt the cold within

Talk to me
walk with me thoughout the year
speak and I will hear

Little storm lover
sitting on a windowsill
while others snore and dream their midnight dreams
cold feet a ticket to watch the lightning
thunder has electric bones
a drum roll giant coming ever nearer
she will catch it if they find her
well worth the risk
to watch the show

Where is the beauty
that tiny creeping flower
it blossoms in the cracks
between the slabbed ugliness of this world

Little bird
come inside
shake the chill
cast winter from your mind
let fall that cloak of grief
pooled around your feet
dark moss
old and dry
trampled to dust
watch me kick it away
forgotten in a corner
stay until the sun returns
let spring be your saviour

Japanese haiku
Distilled from simplicity
Essence of poet

Deep and cool green pool
Edge of the board looking down
A flight without wings

Watching from the edge
You can view eternity
Closer than you think

A yellow leaf
caught in the wind
it flutters
as it leaves the tree
try as you might
it won't be caught
I think that's called
ennui

Romeo
you were the East
but there was no sun
for you and Juliet
a drip of light
new sprung
from a talented quill
then darkness
stolen moments
briefly given
then taken
puppets
in the mind of your
creator

Haunted
by the ghost
of a tune that you heard
or a book you once read
a fluttering bird
that flew from your head

She was always there
Britain's loyal royal friend
Working to the end

Zéphyr soft upon my cheek
caress my face with spring
dance with me
wash me with rain
bring warmth
and swell the grain
oh fortunate wind
blown from the West
of all the breezes
I like you the best

Winter's song
is high and sharp
a razor cutting deep
everything it touches sleeps
yet out of reach and far below
beneath the wind and rain and snow
tiny plants begin to grow
he may be cruel but here's the thing
winter's soul is the breath of spring

Bird on a winter fence
all frozen feet and frosted wing
scans the sky and wonders why
crows don't fly south till spring

Early morning tea
Sleepy hands on a china bowl
Peace in the garden

Ash
falls soft
upon the name of love
the game of love
the eternal flame of love
which cools until
through burning embers
one remembers after all
how sweet it was to fall

Speak scarlet secrets
A million sweet vermilions
Whispered in the dark

Words have no walls
except for those enclosures we build to keep them in
some are hollow
splendid fruit containing wasps within
others fill with meaning
fattened ears of corn
they are mysterious
invisible as the wind
with the power to destroy
or to fill our sails
if we find ourselves becalmed
words can be everythings
or nothings
without ears to hear
or grace of page
a stage in which to share
they are nought but empty promises
the sound of passing air

A yen is not a thing
it's the wish
to hold the string
of a yellow balloon
you once lost
on a windy day
in the hills
of your mind

Bubble child
a pretty fragile thing
of pinks and blues
and other multicoloured hues
we watched you
with delight
in skipping dancing floating flight
the wind changed
and we moved on
I turned to look
but you were gone

There is a time
for hoping
for praying if you wish
for watching and for waiting
but when that time has passed
there comes a time for bitter realisation
a time to stop the clock
a crying time
and a time to say goodbye

The rain
when it came
was not unexpected
soft at first
then larger drops
falling music
dancing puddles
ignored in a rush of passers by
I stayed to the end
and heard it all
that orchestra of sky

Tennis racket
lost along with your skis
like falling leaves
blown into the cupboard
they stayed for 90 years
waiting for Anthony to finish the game
but he never came

Fronds of Auburn hair
Frame you as a sunflower
Floating in moonlight

Blend me a colour
In waterproof mascara
Shades of missing you

Butterscotch sunset
Fades our walls to caramel
Sweet hummingbird light

Sleep peacefully now
A sinking sun paints the walls
Cancer drinks the light

You covered me
with a carpet of flowers
clean and bright
pink and white
fragrance light
on the summer air
fine words were said
many tears were shed
but you keep your guns
and I’m still dead

Spring grass to pierce my bones
Moss will stitch my winding sheet
Sweet death of winter

How many missing sons and daughters
buried with tears and a folded cloth
dead pride of a nation
how many banners raised in triumph
lowered to half mast by the grieving
in the name of patriotism's flag
a highly dangerous piece of rag

Take the mother night
Wrap her in glorious dawn
To birth a new day

Sweet undercover night
silence has wrapped the world
in a velvet bag
so soft and heavy
it drinks the light
and makes a cocktail
of the moon and stars

The definition of a maniac
someone who shares
the same locked wardrobe of dark thoughts
that you do
but they found the key
tried them on for size
and wear them to dance in the streets

Oh Vincent
if only you had known
the world would one day marvel
at your sunflowers
and those waving fields of grain
you left us
but they will remain
a part of you
the beating heart of you
the art of you
for your success was unforeseen
you left us
with what might have been

Some cold black coffee
A biscuit on the carpet
Death lets himself out

Grief is an empty place
a dark and silent painful space
with the hardest plastic chair
you wait until a flicker of light
shines under a door
you never knew was there

Frosty morning air
Winter's white haired terrier
Nips at your fingers

Hey gun lobbyists
Another load of children
Just surrendered

Draw down the waning moon
****** the gentle light of fading stars
take not their shine
to be extinguished one by one
I love you
let this night be never done

We are floating leaves
Children of the winds and tide
Following the stream

You can try to capture the wind
trap the airy whistle of trees
or the fluting song of reeds on the river
yes you can try to tame the restless spirit of the breeze
but it will sulk
and sit silent in the jar
until you let it out again

Winter’s lonely queen
grieving for her summer king
a lover long gone
he left his clothes
an Autumn coat of crimson velvet
lined with orange and a dozen other hues
without his light it faded to a duller forest brown
and she was left with shreds and tatters in her hands
that seamstress spring will come in time
and weave a cloak of gentle forest green
to see him though the coming year

Spend an early hour on the shore
sit for a while
talk if it helps to calm your fears
tell the wind
let iron sand and rushing water be your listening ears
for only they can hear

The sock undid me
just a little thing
soft and yellow and drowning in a puddle
I suppose it fell off when the soldiers came
and they ran for it
I wonder where the other one is
perhaps it is clinging to a tiny wriggling foot somewhere
I hope so

You will not halt the rushing wind
restless seas will turn their tides no matter what you do
rain will fall & wet the land to make it green
leaves will drop at turn of year
you can stop a ticking clock
but you cannot stop time

Poppies after rain
Waving scarlet petticoats
A garden can-can