Far from easy street

 Living on the wrong side of the street I stare with care and mighty depth. If I thought of Defoe and imagined Man Friday, He would surely be the image of you. Your hair dirty full of tangles but maybe that’s OK. Plastic bags adorn each ankle like flags on a pole. I’ve seen you rise like a serpent, Escaping

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Don’t

Don’t lean or tilt.Don’t bend or buckle. Don’t slip or slide Don’t follow trends. Don’t wallow or stay hollow. Don’t live in a bubble. Don’t move with trouble. Don’t let others dictate your huddle. Don’t duck and dive or let others decide, it’s your life to live…

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Hush not a word

Knit one pearl one, She muttered, as the candles Danced and flickered. Click clack needle Seemed to dice with needle. Wool recedes as the bamboos twist and turn, Prodding with haste into ever deepest red. Fathers immersed in print.Head down out of harm,  Sheltering from her ordnance. No one dare speak a word, Hushed in the early spawns of night.

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The ghost of Tobermurray

The first time we set eyes on Tobermurray We viewed you from the  window of a passing train My first and last on the iron road… You loomed large as we approached your derelict shell, Grass growing through the cracks of cobbles. People chatting gazing with amaze,  We sped through this vibrant homely place. It was as though we were

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The Journey Is Long (Part III)

   I would wish for a light at the end of the tunnel but I can not find the tunnel. How will all of this turn out? So much evil and hatred broiling around beyond me; corrupting power clutched like a prize and not one ounce of fairness unfolding for the approaching mid-terms in 22 days. The rule seems to

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Old faithful

The sun glows, It grows so strong Beaming, brimming , With summer light, It never seems to fall. Light fades as summer leaves Our shore., The sun grows weak, We see it fall, The evening sun sets early. A wondrous  Backdrop emits. Radiant, pulsing, Almost alive! Clouds zip in red hue It’s like a party in our sky. Time is

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Shipping forcast

Of a Sunday we would mass Around the wooden box. The goons would fade, Memories of Spike would linger Long into the next week, I would be both glued and hushed. Father would lean inward. Names lept from the walnut They left me pondering Mizzen, Dogger German Bite Found myself wondering, Wanting desperately to learn more…

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Lets run with the Moon.

Let’st run with the moon!Watch the sunlight on her face, See the reflection of her smile. I love the sparkle as your light hits the rain. Running hiding behind the cloud. Weaving, throwing shadows as you move. Using your power to rock the waves, Pushing the water to and fro! Forcing the tides to come and go Occasionally eclipsed by the

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