the king and him

 the king

and the american president 

are not afraid 

fool’s gold rushes in

where angleterrs fear to tread

childhood ~ well i asked me

 childhood ~ well i asked me

you name it

i killed it

my childhood

for the life of me

never again

so many things 

we discovered and

filed away along the lines 

of life’s magnetism

polarised

a remembrance 

of wings on heels

grounded in the bog

between the ponds

of life’s spawn

gangs of kids

what was the attraction

that so propelled us

down our differing roads

on life’s journey 

to the destinations of the past

the playground 

fences vaulted 

the containment of advice

spun off the roundabout and

the emotional swings we rode 

the length of evening shadows

from alpha to omega

as unknown then as now

not one carefully placed foot

could pin time’s long demise

dressed in those shadows

the emperor’s new clothes are

but a shroud around the sunshine

that closes these old eyes

in the weight of expectations

unrequited

(actually i’m her human)

(actually i’m her human)

my hand  u  p o n  my cat 

gentles us back

to the dawn of time

our eyes close

the journey begins

slowly breathes slowly

sometimes we share a glance

sometimes a wink

always comes home again

always 

a depiction of dereliction

 a depiction of dereliction 

where we were

there is no one there 

(were we there at all)

not at all at all

over to you

over the fence

by the wall

leave me a note

sometime

Opposites

 opposites

poles apart

top and bottom

positive and negative 

circumnavigate the one 

and you’ll get to the other 

attraction repels 

repulsion attracts

the boat docks

and offloads departure

embarkation leaves a thought

poles apart our love is stretched 

… you tell me yours

… and i’ll tell you mine

such a lot of it

about turn 

it is time is is

 

is it time it is

just  now   here 

at this point in time

everything is

   just perfect

in the sun morn

the easterly laughing

uproarious at the cherry blossom

in a giggle of pink snow

my cuppa placed just so

cat snoozing alongside

the close distance of     of

   soft music 

a breath so deep it is a sea cave

full of sky blue

if there is more

i cannot put my finger on it

there are too many blossoms

stopping me just in time

t i   m      e

water discourse

water discourse

the river 

is longing 

for the sea

the sea

is longing 

for the mountains 

the mountains

are longing 

for snow

the lake

wants to be 

the sea

the sea

wants to be

the lake

waves of clouds

over the mountain’s

reign  

poetus operandi

 poetus operandi 

quietly patiently a poet

waiting in the reeds

with a decoy and a quacker 

until a thought alights

then bam! bam!

giving it both barrels

out it comes

 out it comes

and then it comes

slowly at first

the incoming smile 

then in full spate

my arms open wide

an intake of breath 

salts the main brace 

of another great swim

A ride on the tube ~ a prose poem

 A ride on the tube ~ a prose poem

Subliminal; buried beneath the noise is the noise. Everyday’s commute muted as the mundane. The track of a thought is caught whereas the clatter of the track’s squealing becomes nought. The lullaby of the carriage swaying my eyes to close upon the dark windows. The dark thoughts of the person behind the opposite reflection are an eye into my dark thoughts. Ad_um_brated the points clatter and I smile inside at my growing collection of words. The lighted reflection of the clamour of laughter lightens my demeanour. Now there’s a word for my essay I smile surreptitiously. Now there’s another word I think and that thought smiles into the light of the next platform. Not my stop. Don’t want to stop this merry go around of abstracted creativity. Even as the cables outside undulate into the next tunnel my smile is personalised to me alone. Not one snake knows me or my thoughts I think, neither I theirs. This black and white journey colours my thinking. We all sway in unison our separation lost in the timelessness of our thoughts. Schuum ~ the doors open ~ I get off on it again. 

enough tears

 enough tears

if you say enough

if enough words say

that is enough tears

they will still flow

down the cataract years

white water spittled

into eyes that flinch

at flinching

stay shut and blinkered

for what can one do 

but look forward to the end

of another’s beginning 

theatrical prop

 theatrical prop

my mother had a prop

down in the garden

flat on the bottom 

a V on the top

all the washing on the line

they blew just fine

until to pulley broke

and oh my god no joke

all hell broke loose

that bloody noose

that V on the top

was the bottom line

i swear it was

i saw it see 

just like yesterdee

it was