Silent SeasSome time and a little careBolstered high and forbearing no quiet momentTo squeeze upon the shoreAn infinity of shapeDelighful and opaqueConfected ululations upon a vagrant heartSatrap embraceBrought convivial privilegeAcross a languid lawnStretched forlorn and equivocalFar from meandering sentienceSteering a path straight and trueHalf-way to paradiseSometimes I wish I was a penguinFlying under the waves of silent seas
Extratxt Upon a path wet with unprocessed filigree He shunted his neighbour's wife for a bucket of humming bees Her purple tongue moaning with faint ullulation Swallowing yesterday's consternation Just for fun
ChimeraUpon a river going nowhere at allShone like a mirror dark and gilded on the wallEmpty with no reflectionWhat story thereWhat storm before the fall
Centaur AloftSun you under a sultry skyRiddled with shame and quiet griefStretched between strands of contentmentLike a sigh she sat And run upon by windsContained all imaginationFrailty forgone and caste aside
ContumaciousShe stood contumacious at the wallHer shape resistant but finessedPondered a second take, then Meandered slowly on Wistfully becalmed upon ideas from another timeBeep beep beep
City boyCity boy sitting in far away placesWhere the past flies buried unseenFound deep in forgotten tracesRemnants of deeds untoldSkin is the only thing I'm in I'm inWas all he could think or swimUpon her ocean's tender sleep
WhisperPernicious waffle she says will be the making of a tale too tall to tellToo small to sellBut turned on a whisperWhose breath entranced appetite’s fading whimAnd before shards of exhausted light did meltThe sight of her percussive sensibilityShe learned of her sister’s artAnd found the test too lame to stir her sorry heart
TwinsLike rippling curtains of colourAcross a darkly dormant landHer Being scattersIntimations of fine feelingsAnd impossible delightWhile undoing all her fixturesEasing into yet another wave of possibilitiesAlways at the lip of SpringFitting her infinity into tiny cupsOf pretty porcelained passionAnd with the wings of memoryWe dress our earth-bound selfSoaring to imagination's clear light
MidnightRipped apart by unseasonable temptationsShe stepped like a whisperInto the howl of a galeTossed upon a bedlam seaShe dreamed a life entireOf candlesticks and turtledovesAnd sweet fulfilled desireBut merely discourteousHis lips steelFeigned a monstrous sympathyTo ooze worthless sentienceUpon her fearful eye.
AbbraThe rise of the bellIn short sharp stepsSent rivers of blameInto high dark setsTumbling down on her wicked waysTill an unrepentantSunSangSweetlyTo its dying daySliding past floorsUnvisited in night's bright trespassCadabraLeaner than longAnd sweeter than strongStanding as One they staredBut no tension could findNo awkward surmiseCould lead them awayFrom heavenSuccinct in serenityShe walks toward meHer heart unloaded with cloudsThe sadness of memoriesUnstained and quite free
Lozenge Orange lozenge brightly beveledMomently still before an aching sigh Cornered with easeHer delicate smileIt’s gleam untempered Sentiment thinly wovenBefore an arc of winter’s triumphSwept across her browBreathless and parchedNo sense of the line acrossNarrow jangled seasBut traveled on Blind and forgivingUpon an incoming tide.And close upon breath’s flightInto places beyond delicacyShe merely shone her sharp-edged sensibilityTo empty poses starved of shadowGlaring indelibleWishing only for another sparkSharp upon a moonlit manWaiting waitingExpectant Hungry for saturation’sInevitable chagrinStripped aside and ginger of excessLay down Feted Then forgotten.
Click on image to expand. Click to return.
Spare breeze on a hillMere holidayAround five in the afternoonNothing in sight but plenty to comeA bloke I’d known for awhileHad left townAfter his girlfriend laid him lowToo badOh please don’t touch meShe saidIt’s not safe anymoreFeelings are coming throughWay too fastBut the tide is inThe day is just begunRetracing steps through an unfamiliar landscapeNo echoI look inside and it is beautifulToday tomorrow and yesterdayWhen nothing but the speech of strange tonguesCould feather away the dust of indolenceAnd pepper up a taste for savoury relations