Monday, 25 August 2025

a grain of truth

 a grain of truth


the breath of another pauses 

atop of a sand dune’s flow

a grain of truth unsettled 

in a new direction now


it’s all so unsettling 

sharing an indecision 

all alone until 

a lone breath

of another intones


this way not that

now

who would have thought that …

a cuckoo thought

 a cuckoo thought


the cuckoo’s call

is a false heart 

inside a true heart 

the call out of an orphan

in that unjust moment 

tomorrow is decided

in yesterday’s deceit 

Sunday, 24 August 2025

canes canes canes

 canes canes canes


all those tall canes

along the road of winter’s holiday

where once the snow relied upon them

to steer the plough

now see how they flash past on the black road

that kisses the mountain tops

making passes at girls in sunglasses

canes canes canes

hold out your hands to

the draft of this thought

the arthritic librarian

 the arthritic librarian


the pain booked

on the top shelf of   if only

reached by a ladder wrung of words

hobbled from the hands

that placed it there

the pagination 

of an imagination 

that could move you 

to read what was written

up there

in an attempt to make it

all right again with god

while down here

the ladder’s gnarled feet

refuse to slide

Saturday, 23 August 2025

some wards of wisdom

 some wards of wisdom


we called the gurney

the silver cloud

their final journey


twelve wards 

a hospital canteen

yet the destination of the silver cloud

was always ward thirteen


the notice on the door said

by appointment only

the chapel of rest 

the mortuary


Thursday, 21 August 2025

a poem for Salem’s poem

 a poem for Salem’s poem


the booming of whale song

hooves across the savanna 

the screech of a raptor

a breath at sunset

moonsong above

the crackle of a camp fire  

the yes of locked eyes

yes

some words reverberate 

homeless in the tome of the ear

restless as the background radiation 

across the universe of humanity they roam

awakening in every hearer

a deep longing 

for we are all lost 

in the cacophony of being

dancing like butterflies 

their beauty is mesmerising

eternal in their transience 

they boom

how to write a book of poems

 how to write a book of poems


sit for a long time

staring

the flow of clichés

down the rivers

of thought 

of life

stay sitting 

let the leaves flow past

one after another until

in the col of waiting 

one here

another there

step aside

courting one another

in their roundabout way

a chain

forms 

to bind the book 

that will lock up your heart 


now


throw it into the depths of could have

stand up

walk away


courting a thought

Wednesday, 20 August 2025

reflective counterculture a reflection

reflective counterculture a reflection


then i saw me

and it was all over

the rage 

that i might be the establishment 

drove me sane

never again the freedom

to say this is me

seething

the smashed reflection 

was no longer reflective 

the establishment had been established 

long before

here they come again

kids ~ well i ask you  

Tuesday, 19 August 2025

tallboy

 tallboy


upstairs sunday morning

hand-chins on the bed with my mother

watching them through the curtain crack


off to church in their finery

with their fox stoles 

their lucky rabbit’s paws pinned in silver

mum tumbling acid drops at so and so

all fur coat and no knickers

etc her amen


then down stairs to get on with the dinner

dad down the pub for his prandial pint

before his afternoon nap

when i winked off to sunday school 

and the curtains closed

Monday, 18 August 2025

hard infinitum

 hard infinitum


poetry is all you think it is not

the possibility of probably


the knot that is tied up in its undoing

the ballad of the barking dog

 the ballad of the barking dog


the midnight barking dog is dead   hurrah hurrah


the midnight barking dog is dead   hurrah hurrah


the midnight barking dog is dead


now we have peace and quiet instead 


hurrah hurrah hurrah hurrah


  hurrahhh

i mean to say

 i mean to say


it’s meaningless 

  but i don’t mean  that 

    i have lost sight of the meaning

or that 

  i no longer see value in the meaning

oh no

  i mean  that 

    there is no meaning for anything 


          do you get my drift

numquam iterum refert

 numquam iterum refert


if i talk to her she no longer understands

if i answer her she no longer understands

if i correct her she no longe sees it my way

why do I even try to lift her days

in so many ways


why does anything i say matter i say

when her line of what’s appropriate is gone awry 

and umbrage now her volley reply

i am sure she thinks i’m off my trolley 

so no more if or why

far better not to try 


thus my lord i rest my case 

post haste to cuss and think

let this poem sink into a desert of dust

i guess i mean i think i must

for it looks like my time of healthy lust 

is totally gone is absolutely bust


numquam iterum refert