Category Archives: Poems

Music

I am it
open
my heart gives
as the warm air
rises, a climb
beyond
bodies
to joy
I am spirit

Notes
strings
open then close
galvanising
flesh on the bone
to jolt
jiggle
feverish happiness
alive
in me

Colours
are colours
I have met
in a dream
only once
a taste
so sweet
everlasting
now
etched

I dance

Love doesn’t say much 
days roll
evenings patient with us.
We are vulnerable
that is enough.

I heat half the bbq
salad and cheese and hot tea
the cold is held back
early summer, new air
we breathe.

Give me only this.
Never strip
this stillness
for as long as we sit
I dance

Its ok

You jump up 
to be held,
excited
now settled.

I worry
when you get sick.
It’s not like I can ask
if today is any better.

I take my time
looking into you.
We can’t hold eye contact.
Don’t have to.

‘It can’t be comfortable’,
I say.
But boney knees
are rest.

‘What do you want’,
I ask.
Then you turn
and I know it’s ok.

From inside

Like a penny down a well 
clanging
until the noise stops
it’s value lost
to the pit

Anxiety
is in no way gradual
pages unfold
faster than a hand
can hold

Hope
lost
to a fleshy belly
feeding
from inside

Grounded hands

My hands are black with hope 
from living in the earth.
Soil sunk into my rinkles
of skin and mind

Memories. I am young
we are making cake
hands full of flour, sweet sugar
A separate chocolate bowl for me

Not much has changed really.
Still resist it.
Too slow to do what I should
too fast to quit when I shouldn’t

Leave me here
holding on
like we used to.
I remember

Common Stream

Clay drinks rain from the downs
like a sponge, till it flies
beneath our sleeping village
out to a common stream.

The bed is not it’s own
it only gives.
A being that lies not in the living
but in the honour of a life well lived.

It knows,
fate travels up and down its bends
only on occasion do the inspired young
have a go;

Waves break,
shapes form and flatten,
ripples open, deepen,
dive.

It doesn't last
a current too strong,
a word too loud,
a purpose.

No melancholy here.
Fresh rain from the hills comes
for ducks to wade,
fish riggle.

Jealousy? Envy? No.
Nor hope for a new way.
Love of place,
it knew all along.

Soft sun

A soft sun hovers upon white skin  
soon to burn it of innocence.

Winter months went, untested, wilted,
now a fleshy wrinkle.

Like a bird of prey, claws bury to bone and round and up again

heat cooks the blood to boil, bubbles
rising like floating dead.

Without her knowing, the sun had murdered.
Into the shadows, it waits

Flat land

I have come from hills 
now buried in my mind.

I tread lightly
to preserve
this flat land
make peace

Fields of yellow rape
ripe with the sun.
Bunched crops sing
at a whisper

Sounds of a field,
breath upon wind,
voices whipping up
above thick hedgerow

I cross to a verge in shade
tweets peak, pitch squeezed
from a robins belly, paused
now holding height, hanging

The yellow towers don’t rest
stripping the sky’s light
for lift above the flat
-

Drift

Sometimes 
when the day is
normal

In a
sequence of old
routine

we drift

Can I hold you,
one of your hands
just sit

My attention
not heart was
failing

You bare no fault
all along
it was me

Green square

Black tarmac streets run
drips on a mirror.
I hear noises.
Cars breaking
guls cracking

Big city
yet,
the pause.
I am lost
not alone

There is an old church god left
or maybe it was rich people
to feel less guilty
about their money
or their thoughts


I like this
louder, satisfying quiet.
Don’t miss the field
Got a square of green here
and structures of man