From the damp dark recesses
Of cloistered bookshops
Into the blinking glare
And thronging crowds,
We are all unfocused
And unrecognised except
For our reflections
In shop windows.

Down newly cobbled streets
Walking at your speed now
Whistle, guitar and violin
Offer original renditions
To down and outs and drunks
Who dance where they slept
But quickly if you want
To hear some real music
For the Incas are in town.

Wheelchairs and children
Are politely ushered to the front
Gathering around
Standing next to me;
Until the shouting and screaming starts
His shots indiscriminate
Knocking me over.

Today I answered the call
For more commitment, more passion
And everything I did came off.

Today the wing belonged to me
I had it all, I really flew.
I was the danger man, the hot shot
Whose courage and vision
Rallied a late victory.

Trouble though when I arrived home
Full of it and still trying to score
As all of my best moves were ruled offside.
When I appealed I was warned, no more
And answering back resulted in a sending off
To the spare room
Where I was eventually given what for.

Night times
Are the best times
To miss you
Followed by
Mornings
Afternoons
And evenings.

I saw you twice today!
I swear on my grave I did.
The first time
I called out your name,
The one before you changed it,
But you were just out
Of earshot
And later I almost touched your arm.
So close!
It's a shame, we could
Have gone down by the river,
Done a bit of shopping,
Bought you some new hair colourant,
Maybe gone back to my place.
I know!
"In my dreams!"
Oh yes I definitely saw you
As well as any trick of the light
Would let me.

I was one of the lucky ones
Used to be part time mainly
As and when really
Maybe a Thursday or Friday
The odd weekend
And very occasional night away.
Since when did getting
And staying well
Become a full time job?

From the moment we are born
The lottery begins.
We are all given a set number,
Of days that is
And we never know
When ours is up,
Luckily.

Just the two of us then
Until it's all over
Whatever life tosses our way
Especially the thick and thin bits
You're in my bubble
My support group
So don't let me down
You're my seat of learning
My splinter group
My dream team
My hit squad
My inner circle
You're the nearest thing I've got to family
To a Christmas load of
Uncles, nephews and aunts
To a shed load of mates
To a swarm of bees
And a flock of pigeons.
You're the closest thing I've got
To a one and only
To a nearest and dearest ...
What do you mean you didn't know,
It doesn't matter
You're still there in spirit.

For those who don't believe in chance
It was destiny when they met
Both being at the pub
And at the dance.
But in the High Street of all places
She chases him, spilling apples
Around a tree
And when they embrace and kiss
It's as if they want the whole world to see.
But I find it strange
No one tells them
Feelings change, so much happens
To get in the way
Of so many good intentions
Oh well, let them
Enjoy their moment
While they can.
The moment of love.

Started something big today
Something miraculous,
The acorn I planted
In a little tub on the windowsill.
And the bigger the tree gets
The smaller I get
The older it gets
The younger I become.
Until the day
It's as big as a house
And I scramble up it,
Not even noticing my scuffed knees,
Only the million leaves,
Feeling so safe,
Not really lost at all,
I only have to keep going down
And down
To find the ground again,
If I ever wanted to.
And I will sleep easy amongst the stars
Happy I started a forest,
Did my bit to save us all,
Until the day
I can no longer reach
For branches and clouds
And I slip gently
From the encompassing arms,
To lie forever in the shelter and shade.

Now all has been said and done
We are still talking,
Ours is a desperate kind of love.
We know every day
Is our last chance to be together
Before bitterness wipes away
Whole years.
Anxious to show each other
The other point of view
The different perspective
Where everything makes sense.
The usual emotions played out,
How quickly lines become rehearsed
Resentment, hurt, guilt
Over and over again
The same old ground
All the world over.
But still we keep talking
Anxious to show each other
Our desperate kind of love.

You can keep your pyramids
And Hanging Gardens
And statues and temples
And mausoleums and palaces
And museums and Colossus,
It will never be New York in the snow
Or the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul,
No chance of asking a wise man anything here,
But this is my river,
As much as it's anyone's
And it's very humble,
Whisper it,
It's the longest one in the country.
Swans try not to make too much noise
When they take off
And salmon do their best not to jump too high,
People on boats and barges
Only give little waves
And Cathedral bells have to toll the hour
But they try not to intrude on timeless afternoons
Where, whisper it,
Kings and Queens once walked.
And it's where I go everyday to remember you.

A moment before I was drifting
Shipwrecked and sailless
Clamouring for a sip of cool fresh water,
The reassurance of your love.
But here there was a silence
As complete and sacred as any pilgrim
Could wish for.
Here there was a promise of treasure
Beyond my wildest dreams,
Not gaudy baubles hurriedly discarded
By lurching pirates, their escape route foiled,
But something lasting, as yet unmapped.
How easily I turn from friends calling
Pointing to safe pathways over the cliff,
And suddenly I'm in the bear's cave
Unable to make any sense of the shadows,
Peering through cobwebs which cling
Like my fear, and walls silently moving
Closing in on my last few breaths.
At last I stumble gasping into the sunlight
And collapse exhausted on the warm grass
Just lying there until a gentle breeze
Stirs me, fills me with a new sense
Of gratitude and peace,
So that when you called me to your bed
I was loathe to leave the safety of this,
My own love.

Don't let them tell you
That you are good
If they start to say it
Put your fingers in your ears
And sing Dixie as loud as you can.
Good is worse than *******
It's commonplace
It's ten a penny
It's entry level for any writing
Or anything artistic.
Good relegates you to a life
Of expectation and frustration
Because you will probably
Never achieve what you want to.
So you'll need to be a super talent
Maybe one in a million
To really get somewhere
And if you are I imagine
You'll need two things,
To work hard, very hard
And to try to keep
It all together
Which I'm guessing
Might be the hardest part,
It must be unnerving
When you realise you can
Fly up ladders
While everyone around you
Keeps sliding down snakes.
Oh, and good luck.

New shoes are like some people
You're grateful for them
But you don't love them yet.
You just hope you can wear them in
Before you wear them out.
In the Army of Northern Virginia
About half of us had shoes.
Sometimes it was better to go barefoot
Than march all day in some two sizes too small.
When my best friend was killed two days ago
I got to wear his
A pretty good fit, and best of all
It meant that something of him
Could carry on.
He would have done the same for me.
But now it's not the thirty miles
To where we will lay down our arms
For the last time.
I don't have to watch for snipers
In the trees or across the river.
The only things killing me
On this three miles to the bench
Are these new shoes.
I've stuffed paper down the back of the heels
And with every step I'm trying
Not to visualise the seeping blood.
Anyway I've made it,
Maybe I'll get to love them more
On the way back.

When I walked with you on Sunday mornings
Was it ever frosty like today?
Did Cathedral bells and footballers' shouts
Fill the still air?
Were you talking, was I listening,
Could I see your breath?
Were people washing cars?
Were children playing
And dogs barking
And shopkeepers yawning?
Did we ever stop for something to eat or drink?
And did we cross the bridge
And walk back alongside the river?
Were there even any boats?
There must have been,
I can't remember,
But what a wonderful memory.

I hardly knew the man
Had only spoken once
That he had spent many years
In the high country
Was plain to see.

No matter how far I walked
How high I climbed
He was always just ahead
Always just above me.

Within shouting distance
If I dared to call out
My cries longed to split the air
Instead of lying festering
Inside there.

When I faltered he strode on
When I stopped for a drink
And looked round
He was gone,
When I was overtaken
By exhaustion and wanted
To turn back
He found the mouth
Of your cave
Down my forbidden track.

Let the flowers grow where they grow
Empty hands are still good hands
There's nothing to reach out for
Or hold on to or push away
No splinters or cuts to worry about
Breaks are healed, scars faded
There's nothing to touch or feel
Nothing to count
No one to wave to
No hand to hold,
And it was all right there
In the palm of my hand
This life
There for the taking
There for the receiving
There for the giving,
I let it slip through my fingers
But empty hands are still good hands.

The little train
Goes around the track
Straight through the station
Leaving plastic arms
Stuck in midair.
I like to lie down
Get my head really close
Where everything looks bigger.
On it goes,
Into the countryside
And the plastic people
And sheep
That never look up
And the farmer's wife
Whose eyes see
Right through me.
On it goes
Through the wonderful tunnel
Driving me round
The bend
Until the batteries
Run out
Leaving me stranded.

We had to run
To the nearest tree
Holding hands
For the first time
Instinctively clutching
Each other's in case
One of us slipped,
Because you brought
The rain with you.

In my room
Our first kiss
The lonely minutes
Cried out for the
Reassurances of eternity.
When you slept
I stayed awake
It felt like
You were healing me
I had found my source,
Because you brought
The night with you.

In the morning
We started our lives together,
I thank you
For all those days
We shared .
And I will try to imagine
How you look now
Wonder again if you
Have someone else,
Because you brought
The years with you.

Not for us the delights of Venice
A tan on the Med or being seen on the piste,
Our holiday was passed down to us by elders
Who religiously planned for two weeks of heaven at least
When the whole street decended
Like so many aliens
Who on reaching the earth's atmosphere
Forgot they were supposed to **** and pillage
And just went plain silly,
In caravans and huge tents you said
A congregation of days running together
Whose shimmering horizons, like great moats
Protected, edified, were ready to sweep away
Invading thoughts of ever returning to that hum drum existence
Of that make believe life forever ended.

Sadly we never achieved such heights
Ours were snatched days, hastily arranged nights
When we gambled on the weather
Opted for more familiar sights,
And there it is, just as you had left it
The sandcastle with tiny flagged turrets
And shells, handpicked, embroidered
On to walls packed tight
Enough to repel the advancing tide
The merciless frothy blackness, creeping all night
Over our lost childhood and innocence.

Even those stolen moments are not on offer any more
Leaving me hundreds of miles from shore
With the bucket and ***** you both forgot
And plenty of time to reflect
On what could have been
But if I ***** up my eyes really tightly
I can just make out two small figures
Playing like children
On the beach
In the sun.

He chose you
Over everyone else in the world
He doted on your every thought
Every word and breath
He missed you
More than life itself
Felt sick to the stomach
That horrible emptiness
In the pit of it
When he couldn't see you
He was unable to eat or sleep
Was looking in bad shape
Until you scooped him up
And healed him
With a smile and a touch
As you did me,
I have given way
To a better man,
That's how I see it.

The time travellers are always there
But will only be visible to our earthly eyes
At the end times.
Which feels like now.
Until the lights change
We are a captive audience
But the seven trumpets
Sound more like pneumatic drills.
Why did we come this way?
Weren't the signs clear enough?
We could have gone a longer way round
Even risked getting lost.
Are we going to be here forever?
They shake their heads
Grin at our impatience
Knowing none of this really matters
If they can't fill in
The hole in the sky.

Can't seem to get warm tonight
Darkness is a cold blanket
Her arm around my shoulder
Chills my bones.
She pretends to be my friend
To hide me from myself
But she brings her own night
And I am wide awake with my fears.
And she loves it that I can see things
That are not there
And that I can feel her icy touch
On this midsummer afternoon.

I had expected to be woken
By canons and church bells
And brass bands and people
Lining the streets
Waving the Union Jack and climbing
On each others shoulders
To get a better view
Of the victorious homecoming troops
And shouting 'Let me take your rifle son,
You won't be needing that anymore'.
But instead a kind of eerie silence pervades -
A bit like any other Bank Holiday really.

So, bemused I wander into town
Along with the other stragglers
Solitary shell shocked forlorn figures,
Some wearing medals
Who like me had somehow become left behind
And missed the best of the fighting.
Nor do the decorations inspire patriotic fervour,
Half a mile of bunting
And a scattering of flags
Hanging listlessly in the morning drizzle,
And the odd poster advertising fireworks tonight
All live ammunition having been descretely confiscated.

In one shop as if to draw attention
Away from their opening
There is a school project, a mock up
Of the Blitz
While others, not wishing to prosper from war
Have remained closed.
A handful of old soldiers are huddled
Around the memorial, in muted thanksgiving.
They place wreaths, salute and hug each other
And I feel if only I could hear what they were saying
Then I would really know.

But on TV celebrations are gathering pace.
Numerous authentic black and white films
And to stirring renditions of the Dam Busters
A parade for those who knew victims and survivors
Who wipe away tears and stare into no man's land,
And later beaming presenters will reunite
Sons and daughters of airmen missing
And presumed dead seventy five years ago
With their families, who in turn
Will be introduced to the grandchildren of their captors
Who have become best of friends
And who now regularly go fishing together.

Can't stop
******* a kiss,
Keep the umbrella
I'll call you
There's so much to do
Where did I get all this stuff?
It'll never fit in there
Maybe if I squeeze it
Oh you're back
Did you forget ...?
Hey sit on that will you?
Stop laughing
And then there's the cleaning,
The decorating,
It's no use, I need more boxes, more time
Okay, okay, I'll calm down, I'm fine
As long as we keep trying to make room
In our lives for each other.

I'm really running
Tripping really
Slipping in the rain
Through any puddles
I can find
Keeping clouds above me
Whichever way they go
And wind in my face
Or on my back
As long as I can still feel
I can forget
I'm running out of time.

Well China gave us two metres
So we can disregard that straight away.
But a Professor Hanson in Odense, Denmark, came up with 124.5 miles,
Although it was drizzling so not ideal conditions.
I know they have done tests
In the Rocky Mountains
To see if they would impact the data
And in Iceland, Dr Staria, no less, has tested the effects of the climate there.
And I read even the Atlanta Space Flight has done simulations,
But the honest truth is
We simply don't know how far
We can blow a kiss.
So we still have to do it the old fashioned way,
The sender sends the recepient a message,
The exact time they are to receive the kiss,
And they in turn make a little wish
And wait with puckered lips.

My lady in waiting
Now I lie in wait for you
If I don't see you
I know I was meant to
For I am destined
To be more than your guard
Don't make me wait forever
I will find it too hard
I've so much to tell you
We have only just begun
But with this battle to fight
I must be on the run
In all my conquests
I was never taken alive
Now I worry if I'm captured
I'll be lucky to survive.

But with your sword of light
And magic shield
I will know no fear
When I follow you into the night.

My lady in waiting
Now I lie in wait for you
Morning has come
All around me this heavy dew
And though I am wounded
I can feel no pain
I know if I could live forever
I would gladly wait for you again.

Tonight I will easily
Put you out of my mind,
Out of sight
Where I do not need you,
Out of reach
Where I do not need to,
Safely, without tears
Tidily, without remorse,
And instead gently kiss your shadow
As it falls
Silently, lingeringly, exquisitely
Across my shiny, upturned face.

I think she is letting me go
Though she doesn't know it yet.
I've seen that look in someone's eyes before
The distance, the glint,
It's the look of love.
It's like she has a secret
She's found a part of herself
That she hadn't even realized she had lost.
Things don't matter to her anymore,
Little things mostly, if I spill the tea
Or forget to buy the biscuits
Or need to shelter in a rainstorm
And get back home late
She is not bothered in the slightest,
So probably she wouldn't miss me anyway.
I suppose she'll tell me when she's ready
And when she does where will I go?
What will I do?
There is someone I need to catch up with,
If they will still have me.

He is average in most things
Falling over and not hurting himself
Juggling with fire
Flying the great trapeze
Making seals jump through hoops
And lions stand on one leg
Also, riding the white stallion backwards
Running across a tight rope blindfolded
Lying under an elephants foot
And throwing knives at the princess
But if you gave this man half a chance
He would really pull something out of the hat,
Your love.

He wanted to keep walking
I know he did
But on this fine Spring
Morning
We are only allowed twenty paces.
We turn and now I'm looking
Down the barrel of my pistol
At the one aimed at me.
We never met, I wish we had
Then surely one of us would have said,
But what if we both fall in love with the same girl?
No, we just grew up together
Got used to each others'
Funny little ways
We're inseparable really.
When his parents died in a boating accident
He came to live with us
Until we both got jobs at the bank
And could afford a room
Over the hardware store.
I pull the trigger, the powder ignites,
Love saves more than it kills
That is true enough
But it's all over in a flash really.

I could sit here for ever
Watch it all pass by me
In the fantasy of time.
Other lives unfolding around me
Bring a sense of peace
A feeling of relief
That their happiness will never
Depend on mine.

I have returned to the Roman road
Where you chased after me
With your fantasy of love,
Hoping I might find you again
In that alternative dimension
Where reality skewed off
Into different tenses
And where we have prospered ever since
On a completely different course
Before the fantasy of life
Turned our love into mere senses.

When you left I gave up on everything except you.

Beneath a dead
Red sky
I climb to the hilltop
To a place of still memories,
And there you are
Defiant and calm
Waiting to be rebuilt
For one last crusade.
Gone now the pageantry
Of armour gleaming
Of banners unfurled,
People laughing and cheering
And young girls screaming.
A merry dance
You led me then
So let me linger awhile
In the ruins.

The bridge on the Severn
Stands still, hushed
Dutifully guarding
What tries to be a holiday.
Swans, congregating
Delicately preening
Unconcerned by the longboat
Making deliberate progress
It's passengers all wearing
A Captains hat,
Heads turned towards
The Cathedral
And just for them
Nine bells announce the hour.
Ladies, brightly dressed
Carrying large cake boxes
Lead a gentle procession
To the fete.
Bikes, two at a time
Unhurried pedalling,
Weaving their way
Around promenade trees
And grandparents with children
Always stopping to hurl
Stale bread at unsuspecting ducks.
But imperceptibly
Insidiously, remorslessly
The unholy din of traffic
Gathers strength
Drowning out all who dare
To shout out against it ...
And normality returns.

There will be good times

And there will be bad times

We're having the time of our lives.

Like fireflies, shooting stars,
Snowflakes and faces
On the moon,
They pass easily beneath
Thin veils of underworlds
So are often mistaken
For fairy dust.
Sometimes they are
Left behind by
Reindeer and sleighs
Then blown in through
Open windows
Drawn especially to
Wind chimes and
Sleeping faces
Where if encouraged
Can ward off all manner
Of ills.
They are angels wings
And beyond imagination
Every child's playthings.

And later they are
Brooding reminders
Which if ignored
Will hunch shoulders
And drag feet their way.
They wake us at night
Greet us wide-eyed,
But leave us in
A cold sweat
With trembling hands
That forget how to touch.
They are tired
Restless demons
Impatient for release
And must be channelled,
Given purpose
Given hope
If not peace.

When we lay holding hands this morning
I could see that your every breath
Was really a prayer.
Then through the curtains I saw
My love was luminous gold
On the plateau beneath the Luberon
And scented with pine,
Roses and thyme.
I watched it roll down rows of vines
Olive trees and wild rosemary
And become a field of sunflowers near St. Remes,
Then it joined the parade of poplars at Le Thor
Was shouted from the mountains
East of Vaison-la-Romaine
And whispered in the ancient
Narrow streets of  Menerbes.
So I wondered if this was a new beginning.

I never applied for a poetic licence
But as a non poet
The last poem I ever wrote
Was my best.
I deleted it
Or threw it away, as they used to say
Along with my poet's curtains
And my poet's pyjamas
And my poet's slippers
And my poet's pen and notebook.
I knew it  had a couple of good lines,
I didn't need to show them to anybody,
And I knew I couldn't do any better than that.
It was enough for me then.

In days not long after hopscotch
Stories of wild parties began emerging
Of music played too loud
Friends holding hands
And cider, invented by older boys.

With your long flowing hair and flashing smile
You were always the first to be asked
And I watched from a safe distance
Fascinated by the circle you drew,
Thinking that you had never even noticed me.

Until the day that changed my life.
Preceded by whispers and giggles
I received your invitation, as if one was ever needed
To meet up after school in the Block B Chemistry lab.

The room was dimly lit,
There was a Bunsen burner hissing romantically in the corner
And a spotlight on the desk where you sat,
Surrounded by phials and corked flasks.

Measuring, pouring, mixing, stirring
I had no idea what it was possible to create
As I stood, spellbound, watching over your shoulder
Not knowing how far to go on a first date.

Midnight.
Locked up, turned off
Tucked in,
Said goodnight to
Prayed for
Listened for an answer to ...
Silence.
The dripping tap starts
Must always have been there
Like a countdown to morning
Leaves me counting the seconds
Until the next one
When sleep turns me off.

Those bright clear happy moments
Are the best
Before we fall
Into each other's arms
And our only problems
Are the clothes we shed
And place together
On the chair
In the dark room.

What poems will the robots write
In the next century
When all intelligence is artificial?
Still the nuts and bolts of life probably,
Romanticising about when that's all they were,
The feelings they think they have,
The dream of being more human,
Of wanting to believe the old stories
Where their creators were heroes
Who risked their existence for love
Or God, or to make a difference
To the nuts and bolts.

First light around the hard
Edges of the curtains
It's a soft play day
Rolling in a ball of sunrise
To bounce to you
And to you.
It's easy to catch it,
It's not a test
And when you do
Squeeze it gently
Make a wish
Before you pass it on
Nothing heavy
Keep it light
Keep it sunlight
And we can keep playing
Until the moonlight
Calls it a day
For children know how
To beat the doom and gloom
The grown ups have made
For themselves.

Do we ever recover
From the shame
Of that first essay
Thrown back,
Covered in red ink
With comments like,
'Spelling mistakes galore,
Writing unintelligible,
Question misunderstood,
Could have done better,
Should have been more?'

Or held up in class
For everyone to see
Read aloud
To a background
Of sniggering relief
As an example of how
Not to do it
And then, 'If this is
Your best, it beggars belief.'

They say some mistakes
Are accepted
Even invited as part
Of the process,
But going back
To when we first met
It seems so many
Have gone uncorrected
That you cannot forgive
Or forget.

I'm hanging on to my life,
Blindfolded, tasting
The sweetness of the rain.
There is a noose around my neck
My feet are tied, and hands
Behind my back,
Unable to move, I'm relieved
Of all decisions and responsibilities,
Only these last thoughts are mine
And they are strangely free.
But memories are racing too fast
To catch even one,
They must belong to someone else,
Maybe I am trying to shut out the pain already.
I can daydream though,
Those moments before wakefulness
Trying to remember last night's dream
Where everything was the same yet different.
Oh the times I have pleaded my innocence
To every stone deaf wall I could find,
But still I am accused of lack of faith
So, one last thing then
The trapdoor to heaven or hell.
I hope no one sees me
And I can slip in quietly somewhere.

She drives down to a room
On Rainbow Hill
And sits in the car staring
At raindrops on the windscreen
Which look like tiny
Planets in the darkness,
And she feels like an astronaut
Weightless, about to take her first
Moon walk, then realising
She had gone to the wrong moon.

Then she goes inside
Climbs the bright green stair carpet
Up to door number two
And is surprised when her key fits
But not that it is cold and dark
And stale from the cigarettes downstairs.

And she rolls a sleeping bag
And some blankets on the floor
And blocks up the fireplace
With a blue flowery eiderdown
To give the spiders something
To think about, and she takes
Her toothbrush and soap
Into the bathroom
And drops the towel on the floor
And trips over it in her muddy shoes.

Then she gets undressed and finds
A place for her clothes,
On a chair in the corner
And turns out the light and stands
At the window as if they might
Walk past, and she's checking that
They will never find her here.

Then she lies awake wondering
When the street light goes out
Just as it does, and more people
Coming up from the takeaway
And she listens not realising
She is listening for her name.
And then the wind and rain,
And a train coming straight towards her
Then veering off
At the last moment.

I can travel as far
As the painting lets me;
The Beechwood stretches
As far as the eye can see
Far back into the secret wall
Then out into the room
Flooding it with cool fragrant light;
And I cannot believe how much she looks like you.

There amongst the Silver Birch
The most lavish carpet of all,
Your beloved bluebells
Offering up the gentlest of hues.
She bends easily in her long skirt
Cradling fallen branches in both arms.

Then the wood falls silent
Surely a blackbird or thrush would be singing?
Is it morning, is the firewood for this evening,
Is there a church nearby with bells ringing out?
So many things to ask her, and still
I cannot believe how much she looks like you.

I want to spill the beans
Though it's not much of a secret
I'm still head over heels
What a trip!
I'm as high as a kite
I saw the once in a blue moon
I saw the light
I'm literally over the moon
Lost in space.
You are the best of both worlds
Heaven and earth
You bring all my senses into being
Past, present and future tenses
You blow my socks off
I don't care about the cold feet
I wish I could show you the picture
It's worth a thousand words.
But let's not beat about the bush
I missed the boat
And you were on it
I went down in flames
Up in smoke.
I am trying to pull myself together
But I'm still all over the place
Come rain or shine
I will always love you.