- Books, Literature, and Writing»
- Poems & Poetry
City Things and Return Charge - two poems
Return charge – a poem
Returning to you never disappoints,
All the stage and props of reminiscence
Are true mirrors that your being anoints,
With an aura of grace and love's essence.
And the hard days away and the longing
Fall like the autumn leaves from summer’s joy.
This first glimpse, where memory meets seeing;
Quickens the pulsing heart, not ever coy
Like the poor mumbled words on a first date,
It surges with your touch of tenderness.
And would we be, if these absences of late
Were replaced by constant togetherness,
So charged with desire? It seems to be,
In truth, our true love’s spark and battery
City things – a poem
The cover of a fashion magazine
Billboards on inner city roundabouts
The flower beds in the parks of the Queen
The Bible basher on the street who shouts
The perfect look of a brown eyed brunette
A woman’s reduction in the male gaze
The city sky in a summer’s sunset
The winter’s tightening shortening days
The wash of sound from motors, drills and trains
Play unheard keeping away the silence
And under the horizon built with cranes
Crowds of people in controlled compliance
The wrap of the world flowing in the eyes
The digital mould of the earth in disguise
- Where - a poem
caution is a prison for the heart where crumbled whispers blow like dust scattered to far off shores where breakers dissolve tears from rivers that weave the hollows of the earth where the roots...
- Inspiration - a poem
the tapestry of your body from socks to halo is woven in heart and soul you are hidden seams of gold in barren landfills and dormant seeds in unploughed dirt you unveil the skys demeanour to ...
- Haikus - Needs must
Wanting to produce a hub but lacking any inspiration came across a hub by Russ Baleson about haiku. They're easy to write, probably impossible to write well but best of all they're fun in a cryptic...
- Poems with no home
Have had poems lying dormant on my hard drive. They needed a home, so I've moved them here. I can never decide whether I like my poems or not! If you read them I hope you like them. Three poems made...
- Finsbury Park Station - a poem
I have seen the death certificate died in Islington Workhouse 1914 Dead toes under starched sheets A name in copperplate - a plumber in Angel Court Inside my veins I carry the blood of people who...