Saturday, 21 May 2011

Beauty and Power

Hey look at the colour of yon yellow rose

(the incorrigible edges of crazy plants)

rest and gaze-out from a mountain ledge

(now put on a harness, your mate is the belay)

how lyrically blowing - a lullaby

(from an ageing punk, strutting his stuff)

and a picture window onto the pond

(where a gannet plummets – spearing a fish).

Anger into joy,

fear turns into love

lifting a circle

beyond any 2D

with effort - and glory -

spiral upstairs.

Thursday, 19 May 2011

Down's boy at the folk festival


sighs again,

walks down the street

saying ‘Hello!’ to new people;

bearded drunks, dancing girls, singers

with eyes in the clouds, bellies of beer and boots in the gutter;

smiles as if the whole turning world needs a twinkle

and puts his arm round those who seem slumped or crumpled,

carrying their heavy fate or load.

He walks for maybe half a mile,

working the line, stars

for eyes, teeth

for smiles, sits;


Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Global Warming

Sunlight in the café

lightens up my latte;

I cannot eat one biscuit

without a nob of butter

but maybe I should risk it

and get on - getting fatter.

Make me up a platter

- a plate of scones and butter

with subtle smells, the earth compels

my lips and mountain belly.

I’ll gobble steak and chips here,

pie and pickle, arctic rolls

while sunlight in the café

hardens and grows cold.