In Chests of Flint

‘Ere dark o’ the sun

Is total, the near-solstice sky flares;

There’s dark honey crystal in the cloudscapes,

Moorland heather petals smeared

On damson jam bubbles and lavender blossom.

Greedy anonymities of grey

Will just as soon steal it all away,

Tuck it jealously away in buried chests of flint.

But it will linger, comfortingly,

Behind my eyelids for a goodly while.

It isn’t all about being somebody,

Sometimes it’s just about

Simply noticing the dying light

… and holding it,

And keeping the faith.


A One Shoe Pony

Windswept, hungry, choked and blue,

Headin’ for home with a one-shoe pony –

Both of us more about shadow ‘n’ hope

Than muscle and soul –

Limping along the briar’d banks

Between ancient railway-becoming-fossil

And another sunset-mirror lake,

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Owl and Moon Hours.

Mother of  Paradise-pearl hued;

High, sunset-licked ribbons:

Evening honey-ribbed clouds

Are pushed ever on by wind’s caprice.

Before clear dawn

We first-time lovers;

Permissions given,

Will fill the owl and moon hours

With gentle pain, and sweet release.






Sublime sunset pageantry,

Blood in the clouds,

Hymns and homecoming parades

Of swallow squadrons:

Wingover stories,

Over-waters glories.

There’s thunder in the near-distance –

But then, there always was –



The incredible intelligences,

The wasted, glorious  braveries,

The ever-lamentable, always-terrible

Costs of wars.





Ancient …

Ancient are the

Roots that run long

And unseen

In the lines and

Coloured sky patches.


Essential are they,

For they calm my

Fed-by-sunrise spirit.


Eternal are the

Rivers that roar silently

And  star-voice deep

Below mountain crests,

Between midnight crusts.


Essential are they,

 For they feed my

Calmed-by-sunset soul.



Cake Crumbs and Scrumpy Jelly.

It’s happened again, goddamnit!

Gleeful and wilful

That infant-fingered,

Simple minded sunset-sun

Has smeared jam, cake crumbs and scrumpy jelly

Across the horizon shelf

And the ornaments there.

It’s not good enough just

To sit there grinning

Like an ape!

What will the neighbours think

If they see it? –

That’ll only encourage

Such wanton, undisciplined behaviour.

Two things have to happen now:

Firstly, somebody’s got to tidy it up !

Secondly, somebody’s going to have

To make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Don’t look at me …

I’m busy trying to find inspiration for a poem …


The Violet Distance

In the violet distance

Sand eats the sun again;

Soon cold-rock peace

Will settle horizon’s disputes.

Bad-company hero

Told me (years ago)

The sky is burnin’.

I believe – in this

Desert land of faiths –

I begin to understand.

A little bit of desolation

Is desirable on

Access Action Strasse … and

Some minutes with angels

Will weave silk

For the soul.