Sunday 27 October 2019

sunday drew to a close

the grate was
black-leaded
the tea was
steeped
the book sat
comfortably
sunday drew 
to a close
after a fine day
we slept

Saturday 26 October 2019

purview

purview 

a seat by the fireside of my mind
insipid are the tears of yesterday 
a sallow tallow of thin dreams
snow-bound in bottle-bottomed windows 
a vignette of tomorrow’s cold avenues 
all the bolted doors on every cobbled street
around every corner of life’s sorry tale
it’s later than you think and then of course 
it arrives

Friday 25 October 2019

No puss

‪I’m coming back‬
‪my darling cat‬
‪don’t you dare jump‬
‪into my seat like that‬

the taking, and the giving, of the seed.


the taking, and the giving, of the seed.

the taking, and the giving, of the seed;
can you not see, what this says to me,
the fulfilling, the very essence, of our need.

society forever setting out the creed,
where the mating mind must assuredly see,
the taking, and the giving, of the seed.

that nurture of the future is the deed,
for the children of our children, so goes the plea,
the fulfilling, the very essence, of our need.

but on what does art in our hearts there feed,
and from the harshest emotions set us free,
for the taking, and the giving, of the seed.

and the fine fashions of our status forever plead,
in perpetuity that these statements be,
the fulfilling, the very essence, of our need.

but love, you say, is devoid of greed,
yet in that self same selflessness agree,
for the taking, and the giving, of the seed,
the fulfilling, the very essence, of our need.


Saturday 19 October 2019

the sea and me


‪in the sea ‬
‪in every storm‬
‪it speaks to me‬
‪it means no harm‬

‪of every past‬
‪of today’s tomorrow ‬
‪at last hope’s thought‬
‪at past grave’s sorrow‬

‪for it wails‬
‪for it is Wales‬
‪for me is thee ‬
‪for thee is me‬

‪my sea ‬
‪sees my‬

‪yesterday ‬
‪my today‬
‪and of course‬
‪my tomorrow‬

Friday 18 October 2019

Across the mirror of our time stay true

Across the mirror of our time stay true 

For although you did not see me I do see you,
That little boy, the little me, upon that snow slide freeze;
That through the mirror of our time rings true.

And all along that long night calling out, who
Will come and risk toboggan upon bleak knees;
For although you did not see me I do see you.

Boys, boys, under these stars come do,
Greet the claw moon and the blizzard pleas;
That through the mirror of our time rings true.

And the love of pals seeming all down times blue
Laugh every snowflake wild upon the breeze;
For although you did not see me I do see you.

For now is your once and only chance to
Feel the shiver stir the rime upon stark trees
That across the mirror of our time rings true.

For all of time’s long night through
The wild wind calls down a wilful tease;
For although you did not see me I do see the you,
That through the mirror of our time rings true.

GBDT

GBDT

‪the giant barking dog turd’s‬
‪ geodesic dome‬
‪i’ve never seen anything like it ‬
‪ quite this far from home‬
‪any passing resemblance ‬
‪ to persons alive or dead‬
‪is purely coincidental ‬
‪ or so belief be led ‬
‪so cast aside all doubt‬
‪  leave intellect behind ‬
‪the giant dog turd’s out and‬
‪ about to change your mind‬

Thursday 17 October 2019

XR

the hot air‬
‪of extinction rebellion ‬
‪is in jail‬
‪so no more global warming‬
‪we are all safe forevermore ‬

Tuesday 15 October 2019

the ninth life

the ninth life

and so remember, 
the cat’s ninth life remains in
the shadows of the always wind;
there, in the hedgerows of the mind,
bright in the moonlight of a sudden movement, 
stalking to jump upon an illusive tear.

Monday 14 October 2019

reflections

reflections

the rain drops run off the ducks
and into the duck pond disturbing 
the reflection of the two ducks
on the duck pond watched by the
two lovers on the bank 
reflected in each other’s eyes 
and in the rain drops
and in the ponds ripples 
and in the duck’s eyes
and they all reflect
that 
reflections are 
just that

geodesic

geodesic 
doggy dumper
chasing a rabbit
thumper thumper 

Friday 11 October 2019

and then the chimneys fell

and then the chimneys fell

and then the chimneys fell,
one by one by the ton of
ancient soot billowing applause
from the lads in the sidings 
wagoned in trammelled bravado.

some by explosive nostalgia,
some by pick and prop and fire 
and hope for the tugged heart strings,
bricked in piles, taking the stacks
down brick by brick, upending the past.

so now they are gone.
the boys and the men the boys
planned to grow into the furnaces 
of the old testament, in the black book
of the psalms, of sadness long chanted,
and now, finally, the grime on the headstones
of the past falls away.

take the long path to the reed beds
resurgent where the water coolers 
towered. where the slag tips glowered.
give the children their ponds, their 
tadpoles, and finally, again finally,
let sleep take the day away. let us
use the chimney bricks to lay a
road away from the past, and through
the windows of our eyes, espy
everlasting ...

Saturday 5 October 2019

substrata

substrata 

oh to have been at Oxford 
to have developed a reader’s ear
to have talked with talkers walking
in the days before the war

after reading Vera Brittain 
in a musty second-hand book
cheaply bought in vain to gain
the dust of a dry tears look

spider spider

spider spider

once again in dark childhood corners 
lurks what the dark in darkness hides
for exploding across this mithril meadow 
a belly on eight stilted legs rapier glides

the spider jumps and we jump back
ancestors screaming quick hide and hide
as "got you" is pulled back quick as a flash
it’s fangs remaining to chew on our insides

Thursday 3 October 2019

Dylan reads ‘Return Journey’

the dead voice of christmases past
haunts every yesteryear of
our ageing in the raging of
the town that never was
to be again alive for just 
one more time before
we too are dead 
voices of christmases past

The Mumbles train

the Mumbles train

running red in veins 
the Mumbles trains
rail against those who destroyed
the shaking, chili hot leather seats
where the eyes of a child focused,
hands a polish on the brass rail as
the Mumbles train rocked, and
the sailboats tocked to a stop 
at nab rock 
at the end of the pier show

Either side of the hill

Either side of the hill

It’s where the ships' hooters came from,
the other side of the hill, 
where the docks are;
or the black works, on the black river,

on the other side of the hill.

Get up there boys
and spin your rainbows,
immiscible in oils,
in spoils, in whirls,
in worlds apart 
in all your similarity;
for there is no circularity 
around the hill,
where the boys spill;
for after all, after all,
they hail from

either side of the hill

Wednesday 2 October 2019

poem power

poem power

it’s not the words,
but the way they woo, and
carry your books to school for you. 
argue, kiss, in parting moods,
moon in the one eye,
sun in the other,
lifelong friends,
the lover’s lover.