Latest Poetry
Quintessentially British
For the 'essential' challenge ...
Breathing ( poetry challenge – essential )
Breathing is pretty essential and scary when you can't ...
Sine Qua Non (Poetry Challenge)
An essential element or condition ...
Troodos
OOO ...
Saturday Night
...
Lovers
Lovers Wind is the writer, Earth is the page, Stories written all around Falling from the blue on the ground Flowers and fruits Grasses soft and tender Blooming, humming round the flute, Reaping for readers to gauge. Wind is also a witness To dreads of many a kind, Earth, eager to erase The script so dead, unkind. Wind gifts the stars To the earth, day and night Despite the bruising scars Lovers’ longhand is right ...
Departures
Wheeling this one out of the stuffy archives for some fresh air. Ending revised ...
Changing images
Zeus has forgiven Sisyphus For divulging his secret, For being deceitful, For killing travellers, And for many more sins, His spirit now free; Today’s Polygnotus is busy giving The king a rest and the forever falling rock A stable look. Thus the world has become light… The Thinker of Rodin Is giving a flying kiss to the world Not pensive any more; Out of Louvre La Jaconde of Vinci Is laughing ha ha ha Beyond ...
Your love
You are the only sun of your life, and only you can make it shine to give it warmth and tenderness and love. You have no right to crave it from the others, and if you feel sorted out and forlornly cold-shouldered, those cold shoulders are your own, and only you yourself have closed your heart. There is no other world in you but your own heart. The universe is yours if you would open ...
Bleeding hearts
They are more common than you think, the silent bleeding aching hearts of loneliness, too proud to give away their pain by crying, and the more their aching vibrates universally resounding in the ether of spiritual sensitivity, where they indeed can never be alone; since those who cry in silence without tears in constant inward drowning in their misery are that part of the iceberg of all human grief that never can be seen but ...
Following the hay wain
The antics of youth ...
The untouchable
The wind has sinned. It took ink from the sun Wrote stories on the sky What appeared as clouds Became visible with the moon Daylight is such a lie Thousand stories But whose stories are these Smiling, crying witness. And where are they placed Right in front of nowhere. And how old are they Light-years, or a day. In the middle of all these fictions, The wind, the only indispensable voleur The uncatchable offender Perpetually ...
I’m Sorry
...
Dancing Shoes
...
Council Meeting
...
