A collection of poems and other writings...

Wednesday, 30 March 2016

I wish

I wish
that I were young again;
that Time,
who has stamped
crass etchings on my face,
were once again a friend,
as on those summer afternoons
where sunshine pooled
across your belly
and berries thickened
on the raspberry canes.

I wish
that when we followed
those bluebell paths
they had never ended
and that we were still
upon them now
negotiating touch
and kiss
and loss.

But there was
no recognition
in those times
that these times
would be
but the worn lining
of my empty purse
where coin edges have
burned the fabric;

where mites of dust
have gathered
in muffling silence.

the corners
of my eyes.

Wednesday, 23 March 2016


There is an icing
on the window
after this last night
cold has bitten pits into the railings
and frozen 
animal tears 
in the sockets of eyes.

I would paint the sun rise
from here
contemplating distances
in hours
measuring dividing miles 
in sighs.

But you could
colour a new colour,
for I am tired
of these greys and blacks
that I have found of late.
You could bring
a new palette
and refresh my water jar
that I might clean my brushes.

With swift determined strokes
upon the vellum sheet
I would flake the cyan sky
above your head
and the dust dry land
beneath your feet
I perceive
the brightness
of a Southern sun
in your hair.

Sound me a new sound
For I am weary of my groans
and moans.
Whisper me secrets
that will tease 
this dwindled flame
into life again
for it has grown lethargic
in this customary dark.

I would crack the hoarfrost
that encrusts my beard.