Water Sheet

Nothing glides upon thinly cut Water Sheet
Not young birds washing their fresh belly 
Or hovering flies to its edge 
Or the timid fox beneath cover of stars 

Some rest for those under the surface   
The lid closed 
Secrets in 
The sun out

The slice between 

Swift gift

Your orange eyes are all
I see when I think of 
Firm ice holding 
Your shape 
For it will end 
To melt is to know 
How it was to play 
In the winter cold 

Surely it is better 
To have sticks for arms 
Than to have lived
Without them 
Though your time is brief 
It must be worth 

You will topple and tumble 
To a puddle 
Regular and 
But you will have lived 
Come and gone 
Your swift 

A drift

It arrived under cover of night 
A blanket of white as if to hide 
With a layer of gentle ice 
Misgivings from the day gone 

Washed away by a sea of bright 
Eyes blink and squint with light 
Better suited to summer days 
Of sun and fun and yellow 

Layers of sun kissed snow 
Hold events passed beneath 
For a brief time I will forget and play 
As the sound of children wake me

A new world for morning  
As the sun rises and begins to chip 
And the chilly snow drips 
From the day 

Not before long or delay 
White turns to grey to black 
And back to its state of 
Wet cold and frozen air 

As if by magic this day
Returns to its usual way 
Without snow or play 
We will wait

That heavenly light

The arch of day bends to heavenly light 
Past the wanderous eye of a child 
To the chill of flesh grown out 

Our chance begs to come alive 
Though years gone hold us to
Frozen choices made in time past 

Dreams of a youth so eloquently felt 
Swept under roots of rotting self 
The sweet curse of time rolled

Sky Warden

His greying wings flake 
Above blistered air 
To send him  
Into peace that settles 
Up there 

With a slight tilt 
Direction sets 
Momentum holds 
Without sound 
He descends 

An ordinary bird 
Of the common park 
Proudly patrols
These parts 
Of his sky 

To watch 
Passing land 
For what might 
His place

Of importance 
And the coming of his 

He will fly 
To protect 
And care 
The December sky 

Ice song

Sweet petals erupt in my ear 
Drums that softly rattle and
Rustle my quickening soul 

Angelic high notes 
Composed from the throats of children 
Too young to know beauty 

Open water now frozen 
Surrounds their home 
Under attack

Yet beneath warm shrubs
Small birds I cannot name 

Their hearts bleed joy 
From their lips 
A chilling chirp 

A moment  
Everlasting in 

For no one 

But no
one is

Meat vehicle

I am marinated by 
Whispers from a God
I can only hear 
Upon the crushing of hope 
And breaking truths 

A meat vehicle 
Your flesh to enact 
A vision I do not see 
Cannot see without 
Your echoing sound 

What am I 
My skin is split 
To obey  
Come what may 
Come my way 

Where does this spiralling soul 
Meet it’s end 
I beg you to 
Tell me or I’ll 
Cast off 

Break from your steer 
Be free of your fist 
I will outlast 
I will

To what? 
To you? 
To the life you made?
To the ideals I now must now define?
To the emptiness?

I am meat 
Your vehicle 
Whether I choose to or not 
I am  

The Womping Witch

From the gallows she bubbles 
Creatures and features
Of the mutty water 
God only knows 
How such pleasure 
Erupts from her wickedness

Beneath the surface 
Sacrifices are made 
To feed her trunk 
The gerth that needs filling 
Night or day 
Hope or pray 

Carcus and thinning skin 
Rot, green and brown 
Float down 
To a bellowing end 
The inevitability of fate 
Her system of governance 

On and on
Turning dark into drink 
That spawns her 
It repeats 
Taking life 
Giving life

For upon her reluctant out stretched arms, Bluetits rest
Toads hide in her darkened pockets 
Herons perch on her weary head 
And Spiders crawl on her bulging base 
All this 
Her sacrifice 

A heart does rest 
Beneath layers of crumpled leafs 
But it remains asleep and forgotten 
For her dark rhythmn 
And deathly cycle 
Is all she’ll ever know 

The colour of pain

The colour of pain 
Red and black spilt 
Upon naked canvas 

The days of suffering
Do not touch me 

My flesh is clean  
It rests 
In minds and memories 

I do not seep from skin 
Nor does an aching heart 
Pierce blue from 
A chest 

This pain lives in spirit 
When it bleeds 
It leaves no residue 
No evidence 

No colour 
Only knowledge 
That it was there 

Only a witness 
Who felt it 
Come and