Most prison walls
are not made of stone
the thickest ones
are flesh and bone

If I were to end it,
pull the cord and douse the cabin lights for good,
it would be here at the high bluff
salt tang in my hair blowing free to the lighthouse
the blue blue gem of the sea below
this is what I want, if I should ever choose to go
It does not mean I will
just that I might like it to be so

*Such a Beautiful Place

Robert Johnson

King of the blues

All shiny shoes and tilted hat

They don't come any hotter that that

He played the tunes of hearts desire

Guitar that smoked unholy fire

Furious notes from flaming fingers

Cracks the summer heat and lingers

Floating on the delta air

Each string a song of dark despair

Did Robert Johnson sell his soul

For music that would make him whole

Beauty style and heavenly grace

May start off in another place

The devils music leaves an odour

Could it be a whiff of soda!

Walk a mile
with the wind on your face
between the land and the sky
the sand and the water
tread the lonely margins
the frayed cuffs
where worlds meet and end
listen to the cries of wading birds
and wet your tired feet
let the waves heal you
and wash against your senses
this beach is yours
if only in your head

Cool winds of winter
blow but soft upon the land
not stronger
let sparks of Autumn
last a little longer
don't huff so hard
they lose their amber apple glow
hold in your icy breath
we do not want to see them go

On a velvet night,
so silent and heavy
that the breath of life itself seemed an intrusion,
Vincent smiled and bid the world goodbye,
he closed his eyes
and left to join the landscape of his paintings

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

The roots of art
are often buried deep in childhood pain
every flower needs a little rain

I slipped
through a crack in the world
rolled down the bank
and lost myself
among the bottles
and discarded papers
you, a collector of trash
found me
and made me useful again

My old cat
asleep in the sun
he knows his summer
is almost done

So dies the day
In chilly silence with a promise broken
falling night, drinks the light
and pulls the curtains on our words unspoken

A pause for thought in sunlight
observe the flight of bees and busy nesting birds
hear the whispered words of a sighing breeze
smell the green of fragrant singing trees
today I cannot write, no drop of ink will flow
not a single solitary minim scratched across a waiting line
it is a feeling difficult to define, and not as I would have it go
no matter how much I would want it so
spring has stilled my pen

Almost a year of low level stress
a summer and winter of trying to guess
will it be over, can we progress
the urge to cheer up and get on has expired
not sure about you
but my God I am tired!

Winter
is a monochrome beast,
with freezing paws, an icy purr
and bits of autumn stuck in his fur

Waving sails in red and white
catch the breeze and early light,
shiny rich men's toys of the ocean
dance in lazy undular motion

Bequeath to me sleep in your will
let me lay, all silent and unknowing
leave me this as your parting gift
for only the dead can ever know true peace
I may dream of you, and never want to wake
we can waltz together to music never-ending
a sweet sad tune we both know full and well
hold me tight, I will not fear the night
knowing you are waiting,
just as you promised, just like you said
in the candlelit ballroom
that lives in my head

I was a cutting
the empty shell
of what was always meant to flower
my somewhat withered roots
those tangled thorny barbs
were beaten,
crushed to powder
by the grinding heels
which pound life's highway
yet come the spring of middle age
I claimed the time anew,
and flourished strong
no longer swamped by rain
which fell upon my dusty head
it washed me from the drain
where life had placed my weary self
I found rebirth in lost but still familiar tracks
and a writer grew between the pavement cracks

Flowers spread happy
Wanting little in return
It's a rare talent!

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

In the slammer

Doing stir

Eating porridge

Do your time

Does the punishment

Fit the crime

Is this the act of a civilised nation?

Revenge or rehabilitation

If we send someone away

On a governmental holiday

Slamming shut that big grey door

Should we question a little more

What the hell are we doing it for?

How long?

Four years maybe five

Still alive

Survivor of a storm

At least it's warm

And fairly flat

Except for the hill

Which I still

Climb every day

It's the only way

You could see a sail

I have to believe

That I will leave

My sandy jail

Do I need to explain

It's the way I keep sane

The thought that there might

Be a touch of white

Sailing the blue

Is what gets me through

Yet another day

As a castaway

The past is a smell of gently frying bacon
in a house with a green front door
you were too young to remember much
except a dog named Sandy or Rex
it licked up the ice cream you dropped
and someone kind
that you cannot bring to mind
wiped away the tears
from your sticky infant fingers
the memory is gone
but the perfume lingers

I never thought I was the only one

A single ripple among a thousand more

Breaking the surface of the ocean

Not the brightest star to grace the sky

Where millions try to shine

I never thought I was the only one

But I had no idea that there were quite so many fish

Swimming in a crowded pool of words!

Love is a peach,
a sweet and luscious fruit
set high upon a garden wall,
we climb, we taste
we scrape our knees and then we fall,
then through burning embers
one remembers
it was worth it after all

A torrent of rain
flick end of a storm,
we danced to kitchen jazz
safe and dry and warm,
wolves came to listen
more than one or two,
circular howling
maybe they were dancing too

A mashed banana car crash of a morning

Messy and awkward

Words won't heal

Actions are not enough

To **** the silence

Anger heats the room

To a cold simmer

Resentment boils away below the surface

Occasionally something will bubble to the top

The elephant in the room

Lurks, as you dance around him

The clock ticks

Showing it is way too soon

For the building blocks of memory

To start their slow repairs

For now it's just a band aid

On an open wound

So deep you could drive a bus through it

The smashed embers of words that hang unsaid

And the ones you should never have used

It will settle but never leave

Someone will bring it out

Like that ugly Christmas china you always hated

Sad

But you will all learn to live with it

Eventually!

Grace of skies,
wind blown high,
fine figured, soft and fair
tease the wondrous yellow hair
of autumn

Ice on fire

Burning desire

Of melted heart

And flame

No shame or blame

We  both knew the game

Before we started

And now we have parted

So it didn't last

But we had a blast

All the same

Fair or foul
we sail together
the breeze my captain
and I his willing servant
travelling where he wishes
escaped from the tree
but no free spirit
a happy captive
of the wind

Sing like a bird in a tree
Without the rage
Of a bird in a cage

It's a common wish

to swim with dolphins for a while

I don't trust that fish

What's going on behind the smile?

Sunlight bathes the sleeping leaves
in shades of green and gold
this was always winter wood
without your hand to hold
now it fills with music
a bird in every tree
your dappled sunlit kisses
a breath of spring to me

Farewell Samhain
Celtic custom to honour the dead
****** for profit and greed instead
drowned in sugar
until all that remains
is a Jack-O-Lantern rotting in rain

Take the love that dare not speak its name
reduce your thoughts to memories,
lock them deep
hide them in the silent vault that is your heart
smother the singing bird you want to be
snap its feathered neck, quick smart
smother any signs of life
poor wounded thing,
better it was never born,
if it cannot fly, then it should never be
kinder dead than never, to fledge and leave the tree
smash your heel and end it now,
for it cannot be set free

I blame the rain

It has a ceaseless patter

A rhythm on the window and in my head

It stalls my words

Drowning them with sound

Stones that sink that great grey whale of my thoughts

Stilling his song into empty silence

No poems today

I blame it on the rain

Spoilt and pampered season
indulged and petulant spring,
please don't pout and drag your heels
we need the light you bring,
the birds and bees are waiting
so could you make a start
be a dear, stop sulking
it's time you played your part

To change
to fundamentally rearrange
what you are,
or to alter the fit
just a tiny little bit

Fall is theatre

Sondheim of the seasons

One last extravagant show of dazzling firework shades

Daring and carefree, fiesta in scarlet and orange

A deranged Harlequin running riot, dancing with the wind

Raising Cain, a mad finale of colourful conspicuous excess

Refusing to leave the stage or even take a bow

Cool charm stills the orchestra  bringing down the curtain on a  riotous charade

Winter packs away the props and switches off the lights

Party over for another year

I am the wind
the rain which pelts and blows full in the face of adversity
and the silent sound of a million damp and aching feet
I am friendships that will never come again
and the voice of doomed youth
I am memories in old age
the scarlet smell of crushed poppies
and the iron tang of spilled blood  and rusty wire
I am hope and loss
dignity in duty
and outright defiance in the face of defeat
I am all these things
I am remembrance

Time to turn the pages

Leave the book open

Scribble what you want to say

Then draw a line

Put down the Pencil

Make space for a new beginning

A fresh hand can start their story

You wrote a chapter or two

When someone moved over for you

Now do the same

Let the music fade

The lights go down

Time to leave the stage with grace

It is done

Goodbye