Turning Tide

September 21, 2019 at 8:26 pm (Poems) (, , , )

When all you have is broken
And all you loved seems gone
Walk back to nature’s healing
Where human life was born.

Cool rivulets and rocky coves
The motion of moon tides
The swoop of sea birds in the place
Where sea and shore collide.

Walk on her perfect beaches
Feel sand between your toes
Look past the furthest reaches
Of all we’ll ever know.

We’ve come too far away from her
And somehow must return
Forgive and find our feet again
It’s not too late to learn.


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Sleep baby sleep

September 20, 2019 at 8:58 pm (Poems) (, , )

Commemorate, celebrate,
or forget the date,
unload and it let go;
there is nohow I would rather be,
than being me, with you,
here and now, parked,
wind whistling in the dark,
the sound of the sea through
an open window all I want to know.

Sleep deep baby, sleep.

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September 20, 2019 at 8:13 am (Poems) (, , , )

When you told me it was over
it had only just begun
the clock had ceased its ticking
and we still felt very young

Those everlasting children
in 1942
were taken from their villages
and nothing they could do

While concrete jungle architects
constructed city spaces
we thought we were invincible
in a middle Earth oasis

But history snatched our shoes away
and filled our hearts with fear
so soon our safety set upon
and dragged us out of there.

And now our broken spirits
seek an everlasting home
where innocence is not a crime
and we live (once more) as one.

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September 18, 2019 at 7:47 am (Poems) (, )

When she pulled off her grey hood

Revealed her true self:

We were slow to realise…

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September 13, 2019 at 7:57 am (Poems) (, , )

Please turn the heat on, now mum,
The year is growing older
My eyes are tired and I’m hot wired
To know when it gets colder.

Please turn the heat on, now mum
And make me up a bed;
It’s not time yet, but you can bet
I’ll need to rest my head.

Please turn the heat on, now mum
My dear, I would be grateful;
And whilst I wait I’ll meditate
And eat another plateful.

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A Martyr’s Place

September 12, 2019 at 12:45 am (Poems) (, )

I’ve lost count of
the times I got
up on my feet
after falls from grace.

I am kissed and then
stripped again, tied
to crossed bars and then
whipped apace.

I’ll roll stones in the
morning, by evening
those stones will be
back in place.

I confess I am tired
of the words ‘you are hired’
in this martyr’s space.

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Quite Honestly

September 10, 2019 at 6:55 pm (Poems) (, , , )

All those who speak to me
say something bad to me,
Looks pretty bad for me,
Looks pretty bad.

All those who look at me
look pretty sad to me,
Faces look sad to me,
Look pretty sad.

Sometimes life gets to me
Moaning and blasphemy,
Life holds no guarantee –
Just how it is.

Try to remember me
Try to quite honestly
hold faith in destiny
greater than this.

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September 8, 2019 at 9:44 am (Poems) (, , , , , )

Truth sits in a shattered home,
one time shelter to Mum,
Dad and two small boys:
Angels on the pinhead of politics,
blown over by a wayward wind.

Truth doesn’t pontificate,
brought up over millennia
to speak retrospectively;
a bottled message fizzing at her feet.

As light fades,
those who read translucent eyes
turn inland, seeking lost pathways
through a sorry human space.

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When Summer Beats

August 26, 2019 at 11:03 am (Poems) (, , , , , )

When summer beats upon the shore,
we’ll stand and watch it’s hue, allured
by Nature’s power and grace, as if
in awe… as if in her immortal face
we find some comfort, some respite
from human cares.

So in my prayers I call the sea,
in dreams I gather clouds;
beyond all bounds I call on Nature’s dignity
to dress this broken rock
with warmth and tender flowers.

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August 24, 2019 at 6:30 pm (Poems) (, , , , , , , , )

As Amazonian forests burn
and indigenous people,
deep in history, rich in knowledge,
who tend and defend our distant
lifeline, cry “Listen!” and we
Nod “Yes,” to the sound of
trees falling, and wonder “What is

As we speak about high values
and postulate in the West
whilst failing to equate poor welfare
with inadequate care,
making mistaken presumptions
that we can continue to
treat people with disdain and
they will continue selflessly.

As we buy beef from those who
kill us and sell our natures,
and will not even bury us in
a place where souls can breathe…
It takes a most of us a lifetime to
understand the poetic entity, where
micro consciousness is vital
to the whole. So read again,

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