Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament,
Another day’s useless energy spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
New mother picks up and suckles her son,
Senior citizens wish they were young.
Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white.
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion?
love
How to Capture a Mermaid
These instructions come with a warning.
Beware! She might capture you.
The first thing to do is convince yourself
That mermaid tales are true,
Then take a trip to the ocean,
But some inland lakes will do,
And go alone.
Mermaids are very shy.
Never go unprepared.
You will need to take a supply
Of gifts and music and stories.
Some that the sailors knew.
You can’t deceive a mermaid
A mermaid looks right though you
Mermaids love flowers and spices
But go with a heart that’s true
Scatter the beach with spices
Cover the water with flowers
Play to her on a lute
And wait for hours and hours
She will seduce you if she can
She has powers to hypnotise
She sees your soul in an instant
Never look into her eyes
To capture a mermaid don’t use a net
Never use bindings or ropes
You must sing to her very sweetly
Sing of your dreams and your hopes
Trail your hand in the water
Sing yourself to sleep
As you drift between worlds she will come to you
Rising up from the deep
She will want to hold and touch you
She will love you, if you are wise
Never be overbearing
Just take the mermaids hand
When you walk in your sleep, still dreaming,
She will follow you to the land.
All the Roses
the red rose and the white
standing sentinel
on each side of the path
the red rose of passion
the white for purity
so it was told to me
with time the bud unfolds
they litter history
more stories must be told
how Alice met the mad ones
walking nervously alone
in there amongst the flowers
i pondered that for hours
the red queen and the white
would haunt my childhood nights
and then we went to York
and thought of Lancaster
and roses making war
i never saw such violence
shaking petals, thrusting thorns,
tattering the tender growing rose
and then the Tudors came
the doubled rose of white and red
its petals widely spread
holding all in thrall
with gold and iron rule
while it blossomed
a treasure, was The Rose
where actors took the stage
Shakespeare came of age
its name was at the heart
emblem of poets art
that blooms as nectar overflows
now, in the garden,
i plant my roses
i plant them for their scent
i plant them for all they mean to me
they guard my families ashes
i strip away the stories
watching as their gentle petals fall
full of passing glories
but every year repeating
shining out with soft simplicity
a sign of lasting love
given from above
that’s all a rose was ever meant to be
Baking Bread
knowing you were coming home tonight
i resolved to bake you bread
and fill the house with warmth
i gathered driftwood from the beach
i rose at dawn to light the fire
so the dough could rise
i went down to the cellar
to find a fine red wine
i stumbled on the stair
when i came back the fire was out
the fire beside the stove collapsed
it needed swift repair
by the time i mended it
my hair was full of soot
i had to take a shower
i went out to the market next
i bought the finest cheese
and olives black and green
time was growing short by now
i sank my hand into the bowl
almost in despair
i slammed it on the board
i kneeded it, i pummelled it
and left it there to rest
i went out to the beach again
to calm my savage breast
a good bread must be blessed
the kitchen is a peaceful place
when baking scents the room
good bread is earthly grace
my mind filled with the thought of you
i conjured up your face
good bread is an embrace
returning through the garden
i picked one summer rose
to set beside your place
when you came the bread was there
with olives, yellow cheese and wine
mixed with salt sea air
blessed with love and welcome
and smiles to greet you home
good bread is like a poem
The Sea
watching the sea
as it rises and falls
always awaiting the seventh
the rock pools are flooded
deep water drums
as each wave hits them again
the green at the heart of the wave
as it curls in the sun
and comes crashing down
fading, dying, it washes the shore
white frothing bubbles of foam
leaving smooth darkened sand in its wake
the line of white shells and pebbles
defines and records the retreat
and, for a time, holds the imprint
of my feet as i walk away
love, like the ocean, is endless
life and death on the tide
makes the cycle complete
and the loving more sweet
Clearly he adores her
– he is the one at fault
remember that,
keep a note,
don’t be fooled by what follows,
– but remember he loves her
and wants her love in return
– be sure to get the full picture
he told her the truth
he needed time to think
she dragged words out of him
words he didn’t want to speak
not then, not there, maybe never
later, when the storm was over,
one romantic evening
when the stars were bright,
and music was playing sweetly,
he told her a story
one that reminded him so much of her
she analyzed it
explored his sub-conscious for clues
she only saw her own eyes looking back
she denied she was part of his vision
she twisted the tale out of all shape
leaving a big gaping hole
that only she could ever fill
– later she said she was sorry
he took her out dancing,
she probably never wanted to go,
she sat there is total silence
and when he asked what was wrong
she said she had bought the office files along
his pride, for a brief moment,
made him think he should stand up and leave
but he was fascinated by the file contents,
of course,
everything about her
and the life that they share
fascinates him
– it’s all part of their love anyway
he gave her a gift
she asked if he was trying to change her
why would he want to change her?
– it’s totally clear he adores her
if she was late would he wait for her?
yes he would, of course,
as long as she liked
– time doesn’t matter
when she returned, rather late,
she chose to remind him
(how could he ever forget it)
of her rules and his own folly
(if folly it truly was)
she had remembered the storm
and was still feeling angry
just sometimes
– just then
now he’s angry too
– angry he is sad
– sad he is angry
he can’t sleep
because
he has always
truly
loved her
– it’s so clear,
he
simply
adores
her
*************************************
for those with a short attention span
here is the abbreviated version
– he was the one at fault
– it’s all part of their love
– time doesn’t matter
– sad he is angry
– angry he is sad
– it’s totally clear he adores her
– the truth is she loves him too
5.15am
The voice, a breath on a breeze,
stellar, shining, white feather floating,
scattered stardust, soft twinkle,
a warm whisper close to my ear
”Yes, the light was the beginning,
the beginning of the myth,
the myth that brought us all here,
the myth that we had to be.”
”Then the stars gathered round
humming and singing,
singing celestial sound.
The world started spinning,
spinning the loom of itself.”
”No one said, LET THERE BE LIGHT!
Light was, light is.
There is light and darkness,
it’s shadow.”
”But in the great-long-forever-timeless-nothingness
it was suddenly 5.15am!”
When I asked for the theatre prompt sheet
for the book of love and imagination,
(I already had the script),
she projected this onto a board,
along with a dim, faded photograph
of the Mad Hatter leaning against a screen,
nonchalant, in a space
beside a gap in a tattered curtain.
He had stood still there a long time
a very long time ago.
A crowd of children passed by,
wandering home from school,
pushing, shoving, chattering,
telling how they knocked all the apples down
from the garden wall,
but that wasn’t it at all.
They’d forgotten paradise.
The Book of Love & Imagination
A ballet (machinima) based around my poems.
Full credits are given on the link
Fantasy
fantasy can rip you apart
and take you into the dark
or it can be lovely
and brighten your heart
the dark is behind us
may happiness bind us
when the dream is of love
and sweetens the night
it can lead us into the light
The Book of Love
the book of love should be re-written
so we can’t hurt the ones we love
it should be written out in music
with lyrics sent down from above
lovers dreams should all come true
i read this book when i was learning
the hieroglyphs keep shifting now
complications make it so
if only we could make it simple
then we’d know the way to go
there was a time i understood
but that was very long ago
The Dreaming Path 