Saturday, March 17, 2018

This Heart

It’s been around
This heart
Parts stitched,
A tapestry
Woven, still

A tapestry
Of colours
The grey of grief,
The gold of grace,
Passion’s purple
And love?
Its blush?

Now I am
Realising, I have
Crossed the line,
The threshold
Where I crave
The silver
Of silence

That space
Between words
That pause, before
Your kiss
That moment
Of suspense
Before release

Time, stilled
Before succumbing
Into the oblivion
That is not
To silence

In the stillness
Of silence
My heart,
This heart
Beats, in

Friday, March 2, 2018


I am a Libran
Do not forget
Behind my smile
You are weighed

Do not mistake
My politeness
For liking, for
You are balanced

On the scales
Few there are
Who balance them
And fewer still

Who tip
The them
To their favour
And fewer still

Who have
The wisdom
To know
My smile

Is my mask
My social grimace
Behind which
I watch and wait

I am a Libran
I weigh
I wait
While watching

Wednesday, February 28, 2018


The pressure of his hand
Anxiously uncertain
The sinewy sensuousness
Of quadriceps rising
To kneel in
Supplication or adoration
Ambiguously unknown

The warm toxicity
Of breath
Eyes searching
The boundaries
Of the face,
For some tenuous flare
Of recognition

Time eclipsed
In the masked ball
of reversed reality
Where nakedness is
Revealed but not
The intimacy of
Our name

Of time hunted
With Erotic intensity
The weight of bodies
Then elided from the day
Held in memory

Requiem for the other David

I am his
Namesake, an
Unknown uncle
This other David

He had
Long gone
By the time
I arrived

His life
To a phrase
Died of war wounds

And I
Who he was
This man

To oblivion
No grainy
Black and white

To give his
Features visage
His presence,

But for
Four words
Died of war wounds
I wonder

What were his wounds
What was his war
Did he have time
To love

His spectral
Haunting presence
Restless, in his

A man,
An uncle
A name
Nearly forgotten

But not forgotten
Saved by words
Just four

And we,
Linked by
Our names

And the other
Man, we shared
Your brother
My father

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Words - No 2

They come at me
With incessant insistence
Demanding, not just
A hearing, but
Some response

A word begets
Words, then
A sentence, and
A sentence, not having
The decency to know
It’s limits
Becomes a paragraph

Spoken at me,
Rolling over me
Requiring some
Answer, a word becoming
A sentence, drowning
In a paragraph

Words clashing
With words
Consonants and
Vowels jarring
At volume

Starve for
The stillness
Of the
The space
Where words
And calmness
Into the

That space
Where I
To the
The silence
Of eternity
Into time

Thursday, January 25, 2018


The train
Races past
Suspended on
Tracks of steel
Schedules to keep

While we lie
In silence
Slipping by
Suspended schedules

Surrounded by
Touch lingers
To stretch
Out time.

Monday, January 22, 2018


Sunlight undulated
With sensuous delight
Across the surface
Bird song
Punctured the
The river
Slowed to a
Walking pace
As your presence

Pressed against me

Saturday, January 20, 2018

This Dancing Life - for Matthew

This Dancing Life – For Matthew

It is the devil’s
Dancing season
When Persephone
Rises, spitting
Pomegranate pips

And Demons
Track the
Path of pips
Leeching into
This time

Succubus’s stalk
Scratching, sucking
At scabs of memories
Grown starving
In the shadows

Persephone, you
Did not bring the spring
You never do
Each year,
A resolution
To endure.

And so, we dance
The devil and I
We dance,

But I have
Learnt to
Dance with
The devil
And dance

We will

I will dance
Till the
I will

On the boat
Of the Ferrymay
Until we reach
Those shores

When Matthew
Meets me
We will dance
He and I, again
In love’s embrace

We will dance
Into eternity
Life begun
Life endured
Life lived

The dancing
Will then


Wednesday, January 17, 2018


He leant across
And kissed me
It was a
Narrow space
Yet so far
He said
I’m sorry.

I wished
He hadn’t,
Hadn’t said
I’m sorry
I was glad
For the kiss
It took me back

He was in pain
Mine, he didn’t see
Mine wasn’t
His to see
I’d buried mine
Behind the veils
Within my heart

Yet with
That kiss, he
Tore the veil
Reminding me
Of other days
Infused and tinged
With wisps of hope

He said
I’m sorry
I knew, he
Didn’t want to
Hurt, how could
I tell him,
Life hurts enough

Now I have
A memory
The warmth
Of his lips
And I promise

I will dig
And bury
His kiss behind
The veils
My heart

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

This Season

This season
With nonchalant
Disregard for
Summer’s pleasure
Stalks once more
Across the
Floor boards
Of my soul

New year’s passing
Barely cold
The old returns
With strident
Insistence, suffocating
Intention and
Slicing scars
With precision

Once more
In summer’s heat
I wait the
Thawing of
Hoary fingered
Icicles clutching
Ventricles of
A wounded heart

I shut
My eyes
In case the
River Styx
Should seep
Amongst those
Who have not
Stood in its tide

But I have stood
In the River Styx
I have waited, and
Waited for
The ferryman
Listening to the
Rasping of
His oars

Each year
This season
He comes
To remind me
Of what he took
And I wait
For he will come

For me