Friday, 30 November 2012

"Dissolve" (version with one word altered)

those final

dusky pinks

now dissolve into grey

as inspiration fades

and the last grains

of almost-hope

slip slowly, painfully



My expectations can't go any lower.

You're already talking, cellars of the mind.

Curtains up. Perform. It's time to show a

view of disappointment, unrefined.

Monday, 26 November 2012

"Darkening Afternoon"

Autumn's warm tones

now lie, damp upon grey pavements -

the neighbourhood's trees, naked once again.

Vibrant umbrellas

hurry through

the darkening afternoon,

seeking the alternative warmth of

radiators, and welcome cups of tea.

Friday, 23 November 2012

"Only The Horse"

There was an eclipse,

and a violent storm, on the afternoon

that Lucy Lightfoot disappeared.

Only Lucy's horse ever saw

the white light,

as lightning struck the steeple

of the little church.

He was tethered

to the rusty gate -

and, of course, the poor animal was afraid.

Lucy was inside the church -

by her lover's side.

Her lover - from a former life.

She had visited his tomb

each day since she was twelve,

presenting flowers, whispering secrets

and words of passion,

to his wooden effigy.

She must have realised

that the time was right,

that she and her valiant soldier

would finally reunite.

But only the horse ever saw

the white light -

and no trace of Lucy Lightfoot

was found, beyond that afternoon.

"The Legend of Lucy Lightfoot"

At seventeen, so radiant,

hair raven black, eyes emerald green -

the local lads, they just don't stand a chance.

Lucy's heart is in the village church -

the love of her life, a wooden effigy,

of a soldier who died long ago,

before Lucy's birth.

She has visited the tomb

every day since she was twelve.

She brings her lover flowers,

tells him details of

her daily life:

living on a local farm,

with her father and two brothers.

Then, one day, Lucy is riding

her beloved white horse,

in the direction of the little church.

She gets caught in a storm,

so fierce. The skies turn black.

She must reach the church,

her sanctuary from the violence

of the elements.

She tethers her terrified horse

to the rusty gate,

and soon she is safe, with her lover again.

Lucy's horse was later discovered,

frightened and alone.

But where did Lucy go?

No trace of Lucy Lightfoot was ever found -


Wednesday, 21 November 2012

"There Has To Be"

beyond the sadness

beyond the feelings of rejection

beyond the stress

emotional distress

beyond grief

there has to be

there has to be

"Crisis after Crisis and Friends Without Knives"

Struggling with crisis after crisis,

day after endless day:

physical and mental health

deteriorating steadily.

Family and friends might casually

knife you in the back,

at any time -

and the few doctors and

"care co-ordinators"

who really care, move on.

What can I say?

But all I can do

is to keep going,

anyway -

and be grateful for the


knife-free friend.

And, for the record, most of my best ones

have feathers.

Tuesday, 20 November 2012


this hurt remains


and will not pass

and will not fade

Friday, 16 November 2012



by the final flames of hope,

I watch as each one flickers

and expires.

I then wait, in silence, for the

familiar darkness

to surround me,

knowing that I will always

belong to the night.

"Dying Illusions"

confusion, such confusion

the pale, failing light

of dying illusions

too late, too late - so

duly seal my fate

another chapter's

so sad, too bad conclusion

the death of my final

illusions, delusions

Sunday, 11 November 2012


switch off the lights

every single one

even the sun and moon

I am going home tonight

"Bigger Picture"

They accuse her of failing

to see the so-called "bigger picture".

Maybe she does see,

but simply remains unimpressed,

viewing the "bigger picture"

as an even bigger mess.

Saturday, 10 November 2012

"Street Lights Reflected"

ebony night

street lights reflected

in puddles

and still more rain

steadily descending

"Harsh Lessons"

The world is no less beautiful,
but life has taught her
harsh lessons - and some days,
it feels almost impossible
for her to trust
another human being.
Yet, the changing skies,
throughout these days
and nights of sorrow,
still make her feel
something. More than merely numb.
Cold winds can remind her
that she's still
alive: a real person,
in spite of how
she has often been -
and is still - treated.
Nature has her own
form of harshness:
moments of apparent
cruelty, to rival
that of the human race,
and she too knows
how to cause
Yet, Nature is not
sadistic and manipulative,
not in the same gratuitous way.
The trees, and every creature, great and small -
all are as beautiful
as they ever were -
and even though she still
feels like
letting go,
she doesn't.
And she still cares about
the other people too,
even the ones
who have hurt
and rejected her,
and possibly always will.
She thinks about,
worries about them -
wishes them well every day.
Maybe sometimes,
some of them
even think of her as well,
and hope that she's okay.

"Time" (for Stacey, who died on 10/11/10)

Time moves on, not caring

who enters or leaves our lives.

It's been two years now

since you died.

Time drifts on, regardless -

and each fresh sorrow

leaves its scars.

One season dissolves into

the next -

one year becoming yet another.

The happy moments will continue

to come

and go,

as time moves on -


not really caring

who enters or leaves

our insignificant lives.

Thursday, 8 November 2012


There is a bridge across a stream.

Descending leaves are golden-brown,

creating a tranquil, autumnal scene:

a spiritual sanctuary,

place of pure peace,

where eternal dreams

can flow.


emerald summers

of vivid emotions

preserved eternally

in the sepia tones

of her selected, collected memories

so beautiful


simply unforgettable moments


Ebony darkness

weaves her own melodies

into the silent sky.

Beautiful memories

light up the darkness,

each one exploding, like a firework -

each one, duly expiring.

Then those final colours fade,

as the display draws to a close -

leaving me wondering,

in the empty aftermath

of calm skies:

Wasn't it all just an

exquisite illusion?

Is anything real?

Friday, 2 November 2012

"For Other Survivors" (version with stanza breaks)

My soul absorbs

the pain of others.

I don't think that I

am the only one.

I feel amazed

by the strength

of others.

I feel inspired

that others survive

and shine,

and face their own

new days.