The sinking stone (song)

If you were the river Then I’d be the land If you were the ocean Then I’d be the sand You're diamond blue water From river and sea Cleanse this poor soul And wash over me If I held the heart light You’d be at its core If I were a two Then you’d be... Continue Reading →

Me

So empty is the page So listless is the soul So morbid is the age So deepened is the hole So dull I see the light So cold now is the night So life is void of bliss So now it's come to this.

Sunday afternoon

I wake up early Monday morning Check the news and make some tea The week is starting with some yawning Now, everything is up to me The daughters up and she moves slow She still somewhere in sleepy land I sit with her and watch the time go She plays with fingers on my hand... Continue Reading →

Shaftesbury Avenue

On Shaftesbury Avenue, you were my first love. We children were the new created star, You would be the hand and I the glove Each moment without you like a scar. On Shaftesbury Avenue I watched for your light And looked for movement in your yard. The warm summer days would change to night And... Continue Reading →

Jill

Did he think before the thinking And question his desire? Did he suppose to strike the match But not put it to the fire? Did he think before the wanting And question right from wrong? Did he start to hum the verse And determine to sing the song? Did he think before the taking Weary... Continue Reading →

Rest beneath the tree

The pen lays long and still now, The window light falls dark And finished lines sit all in place, So beauty and smudge create one mark. For the world eternal will only have To hold and wash their eyes, While the body falls silent The great voice never dies. Ideas like unchained current Moved through... Continue Reading →

The window dust and dirty grey

I've reworked this poem a few times now. My darling mother was ill when I wrote it and now she has since passed. The themes conjure up images of my grandmother's home and my mother's home as they lay empty in those days and weeks after they died.  For some reason I feel as though... Continue Reading →

The Working Girl

The winter cold The coffee shop closed The days ideas Have all been supposed. Lights in the street, Fog in the air, The young working girl With dew in her hair. Her hat and her coat, Her quick leather walking, The sullen cold faces Of people not talking. Through quieting streets And saddening lanes, The... Continue Reading →

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