Latest Poetry

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(My first posting on UKAuthors in Jan. 2003 and my first comment received was by e-griff, who recounted the logistical challenges of raiding the sewing box and candle drawer when tank building! Pic. part of my old crinkly birth certificate   Young children always regard deprivation as being caused by their own inadequacies ...

I walk the shores, I dip my toes, The sea that is, ebbs and flows, Not because of me, It's the way it goes, Tossing to and fro, Never stops, never yields, some days calm others not. Whipped by the wind, frothing at the mouth. One day green another blue Dark and light, some pass through ...

just some thoughts while out early one morning: pic. my own   Fascinated by Nature's diversity, the colours and complexity of wildlife, the bustling socialness of interwoven humanity, people roam over the surface of the Earth, even the moon, sprinkling the crush of their footsteps everywhere they go.   But not here, here we're blessed with a sparsely-populated natural vastness, as yet, largely untouched by Man ...

I dance within my dreams I walk a road of tears. The mist seeps deep Into my bones, to keep as desperation takes hold. Seeking love When all’s laid to waste. Love will tear us apart. Its been said, it takes hold as all around is fear driven cold. I saw two people copulate Down an alley as I strolled. A desperation i’d like to hold, but the whiskey only allows Glimpses in that cold! ...

Not sure about this, a totally different format for me ...

some are skating on thin ice! (Written last March during the Boris crisis. Pic. taken then) ...

Feeling the cold ...

mourning is a process of assimilation and conservation; pic of Camberwell Beauty: my own ...

in this morning's world, offers no escape. Written on the day Ukraine was invaded - pic: my own ...

A model of distinction ...

A memo to myself ...

Actuated by real, experienced and/or expected loss of people and pets, but including perhaps.... oneself Still life set-up: my own ...

  With tears I wash my eyes yet I cannot see you, I can feel you're here, can sense your footsteps but cannot hear you. The marginal gap, lightyears away ...

Because my diagnosis, borderline personality disorder, the physician said just focus on  having one day to live. Now, a sunrise stipend  serotonin inhibitor  and an open window. Winter's  wet morning, daydream drifting  with the sound   of a distant car engine  and blown gasket cranium. Soon someone else  and a short  Saturday sojourn  into the city. Here I am anybody. Nobody. Repeatedly. At the same time.   ...