above the sea’s bellow

above the sea’s bellow

above the blackberries 

above the cliff

above the sea

on a seat

sue and me

listen to

the roar 

of the sea

beneath the cliff

beneath the blackberries 

sue said to me 

in tensive care

 in tensive care

the ven ~ til ~ ator 

goes up and down

down and up

the ven ~ til ~ ator 

the tubes are silent

in the night light

light night

they come and go

go and come

some stay a while

with me by me

the ven ~ til ~ ator 

goes up and down

down and up

your creativity

 your creativity

if the present does not chime

with it

the bells from the past call out 

for it

the bells of the future are being cast

in the mould of licked tongues

for it

will resonate with you

for it

others can wait or seek it out

fuck it

fuck ‘em

write it

coffee time

 coffee time 

slowly

the day unfurls 

sip by bitter sip

nibble by sweet nibble

necks straighten

eyes look up 

the sun slips

over there the fox goes home to bed

over here the cat waits on her red mat

slowly

slowly

life quickens

the woman from cork

 the woman from cork

the woman from cork was sinking

her husband had left her four years ago

she was missing him and at seventy five

life had pulled a cruel twist to their story

we walked with her along a rough coast path

the shrieks of the gulls blew away

but sadness hung like lead weight

a retired nurse she deserved better

than this and at this

we parted company and she walked on

it looked as if it might rain

find my friends

 find my friends

she was in the

dentist

  co-op

    tesco

      m&s

soon she’ll be through the

castle

  orchard

    allotments

time to put the coffee on

the rain has held off

don’t you just love the internet love

digitalis purpurea

  bella donna

browsing my life away

my back hurts

  now where was you

hot iron

 hot iron

thump thump thump

the iron iron ironing 

your poem is my mother

emerging from time’s steam 

by the fireside aglow 

a childhood measured in white shirts

stiff in the starch of held tears

back then a thin smile 

pressed

easily impressed 

give me time

silence

silence?

they shout about silence

the deaf ones

we can hear them 

but they see our silence

for all our conversations 

we cannot understand silence

not really 

we say we can but that breaks it

the lie

is there a bridge

or is there not

speak up

give us a sigh

bah!

you’re fired

 you’re fired

there is no future

the saddest line

in the saddest poem

never to be read 

there is no poem

there is a fire

we burnt the poem

that said they burnt it

when we did 

now then

there is no we

so there now

where is the poem

i read this as it wrote me yes i did

 i read this as it wrote me yes i did

swallowing the spoon ringing of

a dark breakfast on a wet morning 

in september before october fell

with the denial of leaves that they were ever there

that summer was someone else’s dream

that becalmed was a disease best given air

like consumption in the trees that coughed the wind

that lay deep within the golden chested meadows

pollen petalled and clover rolled

the waiting time was long and hot and hallucinated

in perpetuity

do me a favour my lad and run you away now

wings on heels like the butterflies that exploded

heather bent on raising a hare or a languid fox

here high upon the hill where the north beacons held

the light of winters veil

for 

see how far the sun mist lies upon my thoughts

of going on and on up that stream of rainbow trout

on and on across the midged grassland’s meander

until back for dinner calls your weakening stride

and falling back along september’s steps you dream

of engines steaming on golden stranded excursions

best suited to sea side teas and scones and jam

and damn me if the breeze has dampened cool

for it is cool isn’t it

there’ll be fireworks if i’m late for october’s feast

when sunday school is candled light again

around old ladies scarfs and crinolined angst

for the year is a lover that once was spring

but is now wrapped deep for winter is here again

here now like mun 

dew mun it’s time for tea and toast upon a fork

for a flake or two has lamplighted ere this day

and cosseted in these words will lay me low for

the squirrel’s nuts have closed the day

and breath has steamed up the window’s webbed dust

sleep tight my ciriad golden locks 

sleep tight my bachgen bach

let us take turns to dream the tales

that spring is closeted ere begin