Latest Poetry
Camera Obscura
I originally called this piece "Reality Questioned", however that seemed rather a cliché. Our reality is being changed for us: Some say the result of our meddling with Nature and disturbing the environment of animals, but I believe it is much more than that. We are fearing the tiniest or floating particles in the air, yes, but we are also being forced to change the very everyday aspect of our lives... and are seeing things ...
Reading Matters Picked
Page-turners ...
from P. in Tangier to Sally B.
from P. in Tangier to Sally B. god, how I miss you, your fragrance lingers everywhere haunting desert dusty corners there’s no escape I open a wardrobe your green velvet dress is there I open a drawer half-full perfume bottles lie there and silk pink lingerie I open a book, it’s signed, “to P, from S, with love” I lay awake replaying those nights of loving, and gorging ...
Rose is not a word
The word rose doesn’t emulate any colour, no matter how perfectly read, it doesn’t carry any sense of smell either, however flawlessly the speaker accents ...
The supreme species
I think this discourse in French is relevant. farmers, who feed the human civilization, are starving to death, women, 'used' to breed the supreme species are getting violated; rich becoming richer, poor poorer, as an aftermath of the vulgar growth and development, global warming, in the heat of hatred and wrath; wars have advanced, they have become viral, digital, cyber, nuclear; on the other hand, volumes are written with chosen words, selective histories, measured Ps and Qs to highlight generosity, ...
bird has flown
bird has flown we walked the windswept wildness stepping onto marram tussocks to keep our hiking boots from stagnant water her eyes sparkling she laughed at the rain dripping from her nose onto the faint fuzz of her upper lip, stuck her tongue out at me, and licked the wet away in a momentary epiphany the penny dropped; I loved her before - after a fashion - but suddenly knew she was the ...
A phone conversation with Bill
One of many daily conversations with a good friend who's writing his father's biography. (He’s finished chapter fifteen) ...
first day out with Aoife
first day out with Aoife two ‘Seaside Special’ day returns to ‘kiss me kwik’ and candyfloss, a ‘pirate cruise’ around the bay - no extra cost in the middle of nowhere a juddering halt – the guard announced ‘cows on the track’ Aoife looked out the window, ‘it’s a sign, come on, let's go!’ we walked an ancient track-way - a gothickry of gnarly trees Aoife broke the silence, ‘this ...
Imagine
Forty years on ...
THE HOMECOMING Picked
One from long ago. Don't kmow when my muse may reappear. “I’m sober,” he said, “and I love you. Come home.” And the pines on the mountain danced with branches outspread in a green ecstasy, the birds sang Ode To Joy and rebellious hope flooded the sky and fields. The forest flared with green flames, harps sang in every stream and waterfalls thundered applause. Homeward I sped through Betws and Blaenau, through Rhaedr reeling along ...
B irthed L ike I S ee S alvation?
For 'birthed' read 'written' - for 'I' read 'imagined' - for 'salvation' read 'home' - the rest is nothing. How do you see it, I wonder ...
A View From the Top Picked
Look through any window. I live in a new house. two-up, two-down, on the periphery of a market town. The door knocker is made of brass and all the casements have mullioned glass. From the upper window I can see distant hills and a verdant meadow full of daffodils. I wonder if those jonquils could be the same that inspired Wordsworth prompting him to claim he'd seen a host of ...
Ashamed to death
I'm ashamed to be born as a human being, doubly ashamed to be born as a man, I wouldn't choose to end my life, but I'm waiting to die. ...
Utmost priority
A speech by Sarojini Naidu Without peace, without absolute, determined, delivered 'warlessness', every inch of growth and development is meaningless - an insipid showpiece of plastic progress; it takes us miles away from what we truly merit, equanimity, and happiness ...
somewhere in Catalonia Picked
somewhere in Catalonia la Plaça fills sedately as ancients in wheelchairs gather in the shade of wild olive and myrtle trees to smoke and think nod and doze they used to mutter bitterly of the desecration of La Capella de Santa Eulalia by 'Nationalists' in thirty-six but that subject has run its course now they sit in remembrance silence, a silence broken by cockerel dodging squawking hens stray dogs snapping pigeons ...