Too Late

February 6, 2016 at 6:50 pm (philosophy, Poems) ()

It was too late to say that he loved her,
Too late to say the unsaid,
Too late to put his arm round her,
Too late, since she was long dead.

The wick of a life isn’t license
to hope for some miracle cure
for dilemmas and bad situations
that lurk behind eyelids and doors.

The saying best later than never,
is a get out he could not append,
when he turned up just after the funeral –
love’s candle snuffed out at the end.

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December 20, 2015 at 2:01 pm (Poems) (, )

When Christmas comes so loud and cheer
to decorate another year,
unwrap us from our worldly ways
and let us spend these next few days
reflecting on the love we feel,
when hands are held and hearts reveal
the gifts of friendship and support.
– Let’s fill our stockings with kind thought.

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November 19, 2015 at 10:21 pm (Poems) (, )

With luck, legs will bear us. With grazes, tumble through childhood. With nourishment, grow and travel light. With music, dance and sway. With care, carry loved ones. With work, bend and callous. With weather, ache and change. With rest, endure to serve us. With wear, reflect our age. With love, bend for others. With time, fall away…

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November 18, 2015 at 12:29 am (Poems) ()

Christmas peeking
knees a-creaking
kittens sleeping
winds a-roaring
rain a-pouring
autumn came
to call again



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Quiet Stance

November 17, 2015 at 12:26 am (Poems) (, , , )

Running, Lifting, Holding, Lowering, Returning.

Should we lose the ability to return, chaos ensues,

limbs flail akimbo, and the body, if not checked, may break.


Running, Lifting, Holding, Lowering, Returning.

When two legs are spirited from under us

our landing position should be as relaxed and natural as possible.

We may then, with insight, place one foot in front of the other foot.

Returning to quiet stance may yet be the strength of us.





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Brighton after dark

November 11, 2015 at 6:07 pm (Poems) (, , )

South coasters hunker
hipsters consume the city
the tide tips and turns.

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Prayer for night-time

October 17, 2015 at 10:24 pm (Poems) (, , )

Be kind tonight dear inky sky
please lend your blanket where we lie
Delight us with your whispered songs
instruct our dreams till daylight comes
Imagine we might wish to wake
and keep us safe for morning’s sake.

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October 12, 2015 at 10:11 am (Poems) (, , , , )

I’m getting back to a place I’ve been
where I’m not a cog in a crude machine
where much less time is spent in vain
with sycophants on the gravy train.

where knees are bent and backs are stretched
and arms are used to take and fetch
where hands of purpose mould my day
to fire a pot of stronger clay.

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September 21, 2015 at 2:16 pm (Poems) (, , , , )

I remember well the stretch of his vest
as she pulled him towards her, across the school desk:
a little woman, with thin purple lips.

You are bad, she mouthed –
at six, he would have smelled her hot breath
and felt her spittle on his skin.

I remember then how miss told him:
You will never amount to anything.

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The Goodlife

September 19, 2015 at 4:35 pm (Poems)

The music laughed
and the dancing played
when the little girl
tossed back her braid
and ran into
her daddy’s arms,
he took her up
and twirled her round.
The crowd we clapped
and raised a glass
to the love of a dad
and his lovely lass.
We took our places
on the floor
and when it stopped
we asked for more.
Oh, clap your hands
and stamp your feet
to the tune of Saturday’s
goodlife beat!

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