no war yet please
one hopes one would have hope
one also hopes the test will be postponed
not indefinitely ~ that would be untrue
but enough so that death will come first
the cruelty demanding hope a close second
the impertinence of even the shortest thought
by those who were not tested forgiven
poem to a rock by invitation
enucleate now this eye of time
for time has perchance leached
all trace of time away
and demineralised as it is
we can but say we knew not
what it was but what it has become
and in the shell of our mind’s eye
leave all to fickleness and smile
a poet sends a poet a poem
in reply to a poem
metaphysics exists
the potential of a word in a vacuum
to appear and disappear
in the detector of the accelerator
that is the entanglement of minds
a new particle is found
let’s call it the higgs boasting
at his last reply
an unreciprocated lament
on the face of a mountain heart
the unrequited wind’s at play
rattling the windows of desire
and blowing her tears my way
when cold the draught is at this door
and the fire has dwindled low
she blew her skirts across my eye
and far away did go
did go ~ and far away did go
i see her in the clouds now
a memory of mine
could it have been that long ago
that i kissed her kissed her fine
to meet we planned
on a summer breeze-beached shore
two path were planned
where only one would go
would go ~ where only one would go
i can see her still
bobbed hair and gingham flow
but time courted her away
but how was i to know
that the first field’s flowers
turn soon to seeds and dry
waves of grass soon wave goodbye
above the deep well of why
why my love ~ why this deep well of why
and never to return returns each spring
the unanswered plea of why
did two become one when nearly two
had hearts that were fit to burst and die
empty hands spill these sands of time
and time and again this why
is as bigger than my mountain heart
oh i wish that i would die
oh i wish ~ i wish that i would die
nothing does not exist
from a
subjective point of view
everything is subjective
death is the ultimate objectivity
alone
with our deafness
our subjective darkness
the living only want one thing
not to
be left alone
in a silent darkness
i sit with my eyes closed
pretending
to sleep
but no one ever listens
the burlesque of a town
in its tumbling down
to a bandstand on the lee
of a mound and its two cannons
way above the sea
and look you now you
little england beyond wales
how sedate in your attire
asleep on many tales
of walls and castles
and arches and gulls
across the sound to caldey boy
how it pulls and pulls and pulls
once
not the shadow of itself
the sun crept up
and the gatepost grew
across the warming courtyard
to reach the feet of you
a windy sea
how the wind played whirlies on
the east wind of a westward sea
above the looking was the walking
as we went down into the wild of bay
to swim in the winter’s way
and how the storm was mad that day
as madder as i have seen him at her
her at him and both at me in my plattitude
under the sky’s skuddering as
the white horses stampede away
over the corral fenced horizon free
it was all on that dervish day
that we lost our minds as we swam away
across the bay and back so cold again
we managed just
as we just managed
to drag the victory ashore again
who is on the throne in this their reign
tell me as i dry the salt away
and i’ll shiver again as i always do
within a millimetre of my heart
that has been left in the soarings
and pourings that none understand
except as you my fellow swimmer do
for death was a shortening shadow
a gasp so close to the last
each time a guess that it will be OK
as it always has so far
at the close of a sundown play
tomorrow the wind
tomorrow the sea and the sky
for
tomorrow will be tomorrow
as hope says again and again
for as you well know
we will swim the whirlie wind
far out across the bay
Oh Swanee Baby
stamp collecting
from the damp album of time
philately will get you nowhere
but everywhere you’ll find
people of a similar mind
why the urge to throw away
to fill the green with grime
my anger is oscillating
in these throw away
short lines
SILVER JUBILEE
rotating
hereditary
privilege
with military bands
in case you don’t get the message
let them eat cake
in a tin
because it ain’t ours
it’s theirs
mate
the taf estuary at laugharne
they have taken themselves off
to shore to see how
everything is high tide quiet
neap between shallow and deep
is less than a moon can say
it slides you know this evening now
it take us off to follow them
to brown’s it is again my friends
the anchor is set fair
says cheers
corset
contours of seduction
becoming contours of delight
loose of reconstruction
try as it might
cannot hope to adumbrate
where my fingers trace illusions
imprints of skin elate
permit my confusion
here between the sheets
finger tip to finger tip
where life and illusion meets
harvestiture
across the sea of a long raked field
waves the harvest of corn dried suns
rustling high in pollarded fingers run
the thoughts of ears in rustling tines
greening to gold a million fingered days
on a bare knee’s wander flowing free
and running ahead of a spaniel day
leverets time and time again away
thoughts fly down beneath the gown
and down sits the minded warming now
trapped in time atop a time’s rare day
and if i should say then it will surely stay
for the spider sun has set full speed
in a long exhale down walk’s slow steps
and warm rocks sleep this cradle day
yet look
the moon is risen over there
and in its turning it turns out to be
that it has been such a perfect day
for you and also for me
making tracks
there
everywhere
where there is a field
car tyre tracks
i am so tired
of them
all
tracks
somethings
good things
like wanderings
leave only thoughts
if you follow me
the conservatives in 2022
alchemy
how does one turn a spittoon
into a tub of icecream
how long can one stomach a handful
before revulsion forces revision
crushing by fistful
is a messy business
but have we not wretched long enough
let them dogs eat our vomit outside the polling booths
i am so cross [X]
closed
an open mind
can be closed at will
and opened again
pain in a pincer movement
can be executed
the dead
all poets
can transmute mysteries
misunderstanding
misunderstanding
is a cardinal sin
reports of youths …
… throwing my pebble poems into the sea
contrary to their statement of disdain
they have in fact been moved by my poems
not in the way that i anticipated i admit
and never in a way that they would admit
but they were not throwing blank pebbles
that would be so childish and silly
but the inculcation of an opinion
and on the written word at that
must have been a churning of the their guts
miles away from the waterbrash of too much ale
that it elicited the basic flight and fight response
now you write me some words that elicit such
a strong response and i will send the feral cats
to scratch your ayes out
me i’m off to collect some more pebbles
attack is the best form of defence
don’t you think
they’ll appreciate that
that nugget
panning the stream of mind
for the nugget word of regina be
shinning and everlasting
out of the aqua regia falling see
all the thoughts down the years
the flowers of so many hues
as you once pointed out to me
it is a rare find these days
a rare find indeed
for a new word to come out
of a cavern that holds so tightly
the jewels that crown a work
so that others gasp
surely not
he didn’t
did he
there
you see
arriving at the sea side
and then the rolling hills give way
through the fast gaps in the trees
to an horizon sparkling
way beyond the roller coaster
the bus chugging closer to
the children’s joy shrieking
for the flags you see so
triangularly stiff on the non-breeze
bouncing on the seats down the last hill
down to barry island or was it porthcawl
the closer of the two but we thought
the more rough and ready than the elegant
barry island where they built a butlin’s
all faded now of course the memories
and sadly the actual
the chugging days have left
over the horizon comes the smoke of wars
a bloody child’s knee long trousered now
fingering the coins in a pocket turning over
the price of everything and the value of nothing
so said doom and we did not disagree
the roller coaster drops stop at the water’s end
and we get off for the last time
the rides are closed
on a red slipped sign
the
summer’s season is over
the paint is curling
the gates are padlocked
hands on the railing we stare
you can always trust in rust
he said
oh to be a cartoon character
some days
a blank speech bubble will do
nicely filled by you
a nice box drawn around my day
the story foretold unfolding
across and down this cartoon page
all the rages on the other pages
over there torn in the corner’s scrunch
me
i am happy just here in my little box
thank you
i bought a boat that would not float
sank you i sink i thaid
wet bottomed pails you
make the wrecking world go drowned
dampy dampy oh damply
i’m high and dry and far from home
launch me launch me oh launch me
and i’ll be sailing
home again across the sea
a morning swim with friends
drinking in
the silken
in the silver seas
of why
is tranquillity
simply complicit
in friendships
so sublime
words are key
words can set other words free
the unimprisoned may run amok
the mob may destroy
it is the company they keep
that decides if it is the prison
or the welcomer that is broken
the key word has to turn
either to open the portcullis
or to dungeon hate
storm on swansea bay
bang the back-flow hits the in-flow
rushing along the wall’s desire
defences holding in trepidation’s eyes
under threat of long and leaden skies
the question lies and it begs of me
be that long ‘n easterly or sou’ westerly
this thunder in my ears under my feet
litigation the light across this stormy sea
soon’ll be summer my child to play
at sand castles moats a lighthouse tree
we’ve seen time’s flow you know
you and me and me and you
an ekphrasis on a paining by david hughes jones
moonshine thinks methinks
pearls scattered before the moon swine
the moon’s wine speaks of
moonshine bejewelling a heaving sea
so many breasts have risen
only to fall asunder on the rock’s milk
the same moon hoists a tiara
higher than they can climb
the stars never say no
go back
shall we
