Isolated Together

These strong roots tap deep,
Birds, bees, flowers, sing,
Saturated stone
And dirt at wellsprings,
From where we all drink,
Whilst we stand alone.

Solum distance love,
Clamouring to touch,
But when cooling winds blow,
From our firm stance,
We must not catch.

Long black shadows form
From the midday light,
Ticking on the ground.
We’re not yet withering,
But harvest must come.

Loves lost,
We yearn for those holy places
Of ancient times:
Hilltops, Valleys, Rivers, Seas,
Tasted in dreams.

Yet still, we sing our stories,
From this splendid abandonment.
Others make glory,
And harvest the spent.

Our songs peel their endeavours,
Whilst we bask in the sun,
In isolation in homely surrounds,
We reach out to know we’re heard.

Each day dies
And cold comes.
In darkness,
We wait for the morning.

And the dawn will come,
And we will drink deep again,
And songs will be sung,

The Wondrous Tree (for a Christmas Card 2013)

Whatever you think about Chrisrtmas,
Throw away any naysay,
Place your materialism into the ground,
Cast aside the inaction that precedes the day.
Although people party late,
We’ll ignore the disorder and laugh at the puerile.

And atop the tree sits an angel,
Or a star: a symbol.
And at its feet, in a child’s eyes, it’s remarkable.
The child fascinated in excited wonderment,
Never to remember the rapture of it:
That first Christmas Tree.

But with realization comes knowledge in what follows.
Following the appearance of this woody monument,
That smells not of the forest in which it stood,
But of Christmas and of promise.

A temporary tower conjuring images,
Under which children rip at presents,
And where men and women are taken back,
Where momentarily none hide their delight,
Until the last festive tree enters memory.

And that angel or star: a symbol,
Speaks to some of a return. To me a rerun,
Of a joyous, wondrous continuity,
Witnessed under the Christmas Tree.

Leading on

Be it not be in perfect English,
Given over now to those my friends
All the things that we’ve done have bought this
Thing we’ve got to see out to the end

So, if I were to die this day,
Would anyone fondly recall,
The way I’d lived my life at all?

One of the few is gone

One of the few is gone,
But the people all around can’t see,
That this cold grey day,
Isn’t one of just any February.
For footsteps are heavier today,
And the wind whispers its prayers,
And a stare penetrates deeper,
Than would ordinarily occur.

One of the few is gone,
Leaving only those that mourn,
Leaving those that hunt for memories,
Leaving those who were adored.

One of the few is gone,
Too quietly for those that knew,
The days and nights of laughter,
Known truly only by a few.

We Three

In bed,
The happiest place to be.
My wife, my son, me.


The things I do, I do for me,
These things are my legacy.

This Pacifying Light

After a titanic struggle
Like a colossus born into the darkness he arrived
The crisis caved away
The elements rejoiced
Rain poured, then thunder clapped
Like a terrace of low leaning lions growling his name
Through this a procession to a wet window
Where he was held high in the night
There looked upon by the moon
And reaching for the heavens
He opened all-seeing eyes
Understanding and radiating light
A phoenix birth setting a new dawn on fire
He casts a shadow
And men walk in his shade

A moment

Lay your head on my chest
Close your eyes
Feel the warmth in me
My heart’s beating that bit faster
Let my arms draw you in closer
Let your breathing shallow
Just follow my lead
Join the rhythm of being
Put out of your mind those other things
There’s no need for questions
There could be no answers
It’s all right here
All in the moment

There’s no word we’ve ever spoken
There’s nothing we could ever say
We wouldn’t come close enough
To this reality

A Smile

He smiles uncontrollably to himself
Waking passions and thoughts rise to the fore
Memories losing their significance
Happy within himself once more

Rolled back and out of sight the timely mists
The haunting spectres of that loathsome man
Beaten back and broken with self awareness
Never to torment his soul again

Naked beauty radiates contentedness
Over all things he saw
Fraternal greetings from this lonely man
But he’s not lonely anymore

Go on
Smile sweetly as you walk along your path
The only moment you have is now
Take strength in what has come to pass
Enjoy life, you’re allowed.

Mr Moon

Through the darkness, the moonlight cuts
A lonely gaze which I return;
Two friends greet each other once more,
Stoic; intimate: cold light burn.

Weary wanderer watches us.
The hoariest of observers,
Mankind’s patient companion.

A cold caress illuminates,
Gentle benevolence, the hushed
Pale faces, once florid now sleep.

I lay silent; enamoured with
The nocturnally present sphere.
Wondrous patterns creep around me.

A shadow emerges above,
There’s a recess in the plaster;
Great cavernous voids open up,
Like my friend’s pocked facial features.

Through nights of cloud or crisp cold air,
The giant alabaster stare,
Onward with the journey path,
I track progress o’er a starry cloth.

This sight; that light; another night.

Chased once again in a bluing morn.
Restfully, retreating raging dawn.