Poetry anthology — Spring to mind

CALM

I’m trying to find peace of mind,
In quiet reflection. Like a late evening
Bee on a spring sycamore tree,
Knowing/ Not knowing its direction.

PHOTOGRAPH

Pastures in an old photograph,
Green and lush and cool
Skin on skin,
In a time that never seemed
To begin.
But in the here and now.

PERFORMANCE

The stage,
Is set. The sun fighting the night
The fret board and the strum
Extended hands
Of the audience,
Who feel the covers.
The song was written
So the performance has to take over the song
Idiosyncratically better. Rough voices, smooth
Gusto, restraint. Consistency or mistakes, nail
Hitting the string makes a busker sing harder.
Coins hit coins, a start to the day
That didn’t feel music was missing
Till it could be heard.

KING’S PARK

I put on my best
Only pair of shoes,
And had to get out.
The light was alluring, no rain
But the street
Light lit up the moisture. A roundabout
Took me to a place I used to go
Yesterday. But it’s different on a different day.

WHEN YOU WALK IN THE ROOM

Jostling with the noise
I watched a video
Of a ’64 band whose vibrations
Jostled to the top
And if it sounded raucous then
The space and air now
Could fill up a glen.

RAIN

The longed for rain
Was forecast on a seagulls
White, wind moving
Grey clouds, darker feathers stirring up good trouble.
In a back garden pagan cats did some ritual
Attraction.

CENTRAL

People don’t say
What’s the cheapest drink
You have, while they wait for
The train. Reading romance
Rushing into veins.

MEMORIES

She kept a love letter
In a book
Next to a pressed flower.
Although she won’t remember it’s there
And if she did
She’d have to take a shower.

FRENCH

Study your lips
He said
Peut etre means to kiss
Is to be. Maybe.

WARBURTONS

A lot of pain
Goes into the baker’s truck
It’s 6 or half a dozen
Weather. The driver gives a f*ck.

WHICH MAGAZINE?

I checked my browser
It was mainly photos of Samantha
From Bewitched.
I will never marry
But I love her little twitch.

FOOTBALL DREAMS

What happens to the old footballers
When they pass?
Sagging chins, rosy glows
Flagging wins. Never give up on the game
Even when taking out the bins.

SUNDAY MORNING

Sunday morning got me up
Somebody drunk
Had done my washing up
Turns out it was actually me
But some crazy haired guy
The mirror showed me.

FLICKER

The suns swung away West,
But the newly seeded sycamore leaves
Twinkle in some kind of magic Eastern light
Not sure how a textured overcast sky
Can electrify and make the birds fly.

CAUSEWAY TWILIGHT

There’s always one,
Solo crow, stepping around
The day’s lost and found
Common ground, or the stuff that got away
Like a shopkeeper thinking on his customers
Who didn’t stay.

MIDDAY AT THE OASIS

I saw a succulent,
Flower of the desert
A cactus tattoo, was a potion,
She was into role play
Despite my pay
So I put on my sultan lotion.

CINEMA

I went to an abandoned town
Not sure why it shut down.
I was escaping the projections
And the wedding gowns.
The coming attractions were films
For every demographic, some funny
Some tragic. Screen 1 was Robocop 4
PC Gone mad. Screen 2 was Pac a mac Man
Screen 3 was more than just a rainy day fad.

COUNTRY

I said to her,
I’m taking you to a country club
She put on her little black number 5.
But I meant a place with stetsons and rhinestone boots
Where she danced herself back alive.

CREATIVES

The muse came down
From a hill, bringing something
Of the spirit of fresh air;
Please be creative,
But if it doesn’t work out
Try not to care. Cause you got there.

I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU

Walking home from school,
Past quiet, past caring
About the buildings, quiet.
Satellite television, what happens to old dishes
Stacking up rustily. A French TV programme
An escape from these shores,
Twilight teenagers living life
That was denied to me, for what seems like evermore.
Gathering around a fountain maybe, or was that Friends?
Now my adventures in 40 something twilight, people never end.

ESKIMO

I know of an Eskimo
With a burr in his voice
He wore a kimono
And it was certainly his choice.

ELLI AND JACNO

I watched a synth pop video
And had deja vu
It was a French pop video,
A place where deja vu is nothing new.

LOTTERY BEHAVE

You’ve got more chance being
Struck,
By Lightning
Than winning the lottery,
In this spirit of the beehive.
So why not have a prize
For people who are struck
And survive?
Of course, there would be
Loopholes a plenty;
People would be walking about
The golf course in a storm
From 7am till evening,
8:20.

PET
Spare a thought for a crow
Flying staccato. It can’t go
For an MOT.
Spare a thought for a bee.
I’m not being funny.
Spare a thought for an owl
With poor vision
It can’t go to an optician
Let alone a dietician.
And when a gorilla
Raids your fridge
Thank the lord your boyfriend
Evolved, out from the misty
Mountain ridge.

COMEDY

The scarecrow went on a nationwide tour
He was famous for jokes,
He thought rich, dressed poor.
People queued up to fill up their laughing gas
To fill up venues nearly full,
How these people dragged themselves
Into the grey evening, which received them so dour.

BARMAN

Moses parted seas
The barman partied. Legs
On the fringe of the dancefloor
Giving a little jig as he said…

NEVER KNEW HER

Her big blue eyes
The way she bit her lip
Her red dress, split at the side
The way her spritzer she did sip
No I never knew her either,
And time is an unhelpful photograph…
But here my barmaid, here’s another tip.

ZESTY

I was eating a sweet and juicy
Tangerine by the window
And I saw the zesty rain
Start again.

SONGS

The world was difficult to
Handle. Or get a handle on;
About the only thing that made any sense
Was a song.

GLOBAL

Tearing up
The dream
Don’t get started
Weather. A family,
Or a unit of individuals has a chance
The weather and climate has to change.

THEATRE MUSIC
Went to a chamber
Orchestra pit
They played the late composer
Cause he got stuck on the tube
Not on time. A bit.
And some might say
In tune. By the time he conducted,
Outside was a flushed sunset moon.

SILLY SILLY
I asked Hazel McWitch
Directions, and she never knew
Herself. So I went to the bottom
Of a bottle, and then I asked myself.

PEOPLE
Stubborn
Stain,
Going with the grain,
Even though it means continued
Pain. Should be a shame,
But some like to blame, or shame.

IT’S YOUR ROUND

A good walk soiled in sand
The bookie didn’t bet on losing a grand
Playing golf in the rain
Was it worth the 19th hole and the train
And nobody cared,
Certainly not the bees,
That he couldn’t see his 4 wood
For the trees.

CATS

I looked in the business directory
For a shop that could help me
With my computer;
I had installed a cat flap,
And they started leaving in droves
Looking for a kitty suitor.

FANTASTIC DIETY REQUIREMENTS

Sorry for the wait,
He said, until
The shop was nearly closing.
I said, in those 10 seconds
I reassessed my life, but he was busy opposing
Forces in the air asked me what love is
When I was feeling low,
If it’s just passionate friendship, with trust and loyalty
It’s hardly a wounding blow.

PITTER PATTER

The rain was welcomed
But from the other side
Of the pane. Rain racing
Down, drops dripping
Faster from the weight.

ALIVE

Funny bones,
Drenched in blood
Muscling in,
Wrapped in skin,
Being alive is quite amazin’

SUN

The sun holds up
Seems legit,
It just moves like a golden penny through our skies
On the quiet.
Standing on the shoulders
Of evolving small
People and animals aren’t always fittest
Or tall, that’s all.

AIR

I went
Walking in the air
From here

To over there.

MUSIC

The band leader,
Navigating stars like
The enterprise, never sure they’ll
Get to where they don’t know they’re going
Until they have a song someone thinks is
Worth knowing.

TIME OUT OF SEASON

Tree near me
Springs in Autumn red
After I look out of my window
Jumping out of bed.
Evergreen with Winter’s frost in summer
While Aiken is a universal drummer.

CALDERWOOD/ST. LEONARD’S

Over the brow of
The hill,
Came a winter chill
But I was at the bus stop looking
Towards a lady on her back,
It was just a mountain range,
In the sunlight’s black.

MARILYN

I didn’t know her
But did she get trapped in a persona?
Thinking the girl at the core wasn’t hot enough
And all her homespun memories were pressed to flush.

KISS ME

My girlfriend is a bit cookie
She’s so perfect, I take a second look
She must be an alien, or a vision
That jumped out from a pop up book.

WHITE DRESS

I’m getting married in the morning
I’m not allowed to see my bride by sight
I’m half pissed,
Don’t think she’ll mind me wearing my tux in white.

6th YEAR LEAVING

Walking with her, hair fringed in gold
We’re going to and leaving school
Her hair whipped up, by the wind so old
Rain drops make rings on mirroring pools.

MAY 10th 2022

Walking into the wind cheery,
Blossom flying into you,
Like invisible beauty
Passing through.

ALLOTMENT

He grew flowers,
In the nursery
Earth to bouquet
Earth to bouquet
There’s allotment
In an allotment.

PINA COLADA

I booked a table
At O’Malley’s
I was there so often
I became part of the furniture.
They dusted around me
At first.

WINS

A score draw
A home win
An away loss
Goals going in
Win win.

LONG CALDERWOOD

Went back home
To the fields darkened with moving
Shade, lush grass
Went past the old school
New and kids playing football
Feeling like a shadow passing
Through.

AFTERNOON

A sun a cloud a breeze
A changeable afternoon
Steam circling,
Blossom eddying
Pavements and trees
Hush rain, say the kindly leaves.

BROWN PAPER BAG

Apples and pears
All shapes and sizes
Mandarins and cherries
Snap the brown paper bag
With nature’s prizes.

STARSHINE

Countryside fire went out
No need to pout, starshine
Doesn’t reach us, but we reach it
Fire in hands, holding a thought with our eyes
Until the local brandy bar.

SHOWER

High pressure,
In a gusty low pressure shower
The blossom has blown off the cherry
Trees, while my morning bathroom face glowers.

MONSOON SEASON (IT’S ALL TRUE) AND THERE WAS A BLUEBELL WOOD TOO

Ach aye, he said
The noo? I said
He benignly complained. Like a Scotsman. The weather.
I said, “It could be worse, you could be in Sri Lanka.”
He wandered off. Not before time allowed an exotic passer by with a little mermaid bag. To look at me, she didn’t look sad.
Then, I saw a worm dangle by its silk
And towards it, did magic magician waves with my hands for an old lady
Who looked like she had been sucking lemons all day.
The expression of good comic timing. My straight man.
Dropped off Charlotte’s web at my reluctant brother’s house,
Then chat to a cat about this and about that leaf that I nibbled
After I had whistled to it.
The cat hid behind a bush, and watched me go up the road
To get the bus. They always hide, but think they know us.

FRY

I like a fry up
As much as the next vegetarian sausage
But I do my bangers in the microwave
Because of the time and energy it saves
When I could be doing something else
Like marvelling at how I could be entertained
If I gave in to my book shelf. I could just reread
Forever, and save on the wealth. It only goes so far
Just like when you live on an island, with a car.

ISN’T IT A LOVELY DAY?
Fred was good for a tap
Ginger was his cosmic dancer
Did they, or didn’t they get on?
Time moves gracefully, and doesn’t care
For the answer.

UNIVERSE
A black hole
A spiral galaxy milky way
Like a spider dropping beside
A young woman, eating her curds and whey. Is it the beginning of a galaxy
A place we shot out. Is it the shaft
Rotating a merry go round
Just believe. It’s what it’s all about.

CALM WIND

A spider came to my window,
In the form of spring.
I blew on it, gently
And it seemed to sing
Quietly and begin.
The start of a brand new day
Spilling crimson and ripples
Like ice cream on a holiday town
Out of season.
I left the spider to its own world
As it has its webby reasons.

SEEDS

Shopping bag in hand,
one pigeon in the bush.
The pigeon waddled out
And then clapped into the air at my step,
Making me feel “I caused this”
As it did a lap of the sky,
Disappearing behind the main street tenements.
A tree with blossom moist let it fall on me
Not sure it was purely for my benefit,
But as I got home I saw the sycamore leaflets
Had pushed on through, without me noticing.
I was watching the sun and the clouds.
There’s always something. The seeds in the mind
Take shape if you give them a chance,
The seeds in the tree? More of a mystery.

ROCK STAR

The people from the far east,
Appear, like a leaf sailing on a breeze
Although sometimes, in their smile
There is a teasing
Of the wind, there are many mysteries,
But if the high buildings and tall trees
Make you feel sad, lean on a wall and watch
The sway of nature. Until you feel time has
Stilled, and you have stepped out of it too.

YAWNING

A princess who sat with me in
The castle, flicked through at the fire
A magazine I never read.
I was thinking of bed.
I yawned when a song came on the radio,
Not because I was bored,
But because I was comfortable with a soul that said..

ATTRACTION

Look
Out of my windows,
Open slightly to let in the breeze
And a lady in yellow top, her hair
Did tease, the wind, or the other way abouts
When the sun shines at this Spring time,
My ripe mood hasn’t any doubts.

PUB IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

A country pub,
Lit up in the middle of nowhere.
The car was slowing, the dark was growing
So we stopped driving, and went up the gravel path
To a place where they had draughts on draught,
A barman who looked like my Uncle Jim
And the food pickings were crisps, to slim.

NIGHT, CROW

Goodnight said the evening
To the night,
A crow opened a wing,
And let us all in.
Kitchen window dishes, late dinner
As somewhere else the sun
Isn’t getting dimmer.

PUB
Don’t dry up
Said the man in the pub
Talking to his booze
Till it gave him a shove.

BURNS
Burns wrote of furrowed waving corn
Back in another era.
He only drank so much
Cause the water wasn’t clearer.
He sang of fostering showers
In a world of heavy rain.
Wee Betty got her ditty rarely
Down a sleepy Ayrshire lane.

CHERRY

A woman of age
In April, she bathed in April sun
But she was pale from indoors
Supermarkets were her fun.
Outside the cherry blossom
Petals, merged with the white.
Her pink sweater shone
On her white, cloud like light.

COFFEE CHOCOLATE

A woman, dark skinned
Came to me. Late it was
As I was looking out, to sea
Her eyes. My clear night
In a foreign town. The third day
Of a holiday. She was the heart
Of a kind darkness, in an orange gown.

CHEAP SKY

My lady in the skies,
Radiant morning sighs
Skies curve to horizon
This morning is my prize. On
The couch lays the light
Shell white, on fake leather
There is nothing fake about now
Like a Scottish rolling mist
Of heather. I exist in the past
Present and future.
The phrase is past, now a present
And the future is being written
By a man who is smitten.

MAGPIE
The sun picks out
A catalogue, of crimson
In the sunset.
Another day it aligns
With the lines of communication
I hadn’t noticed. A sign
Saying ball games prohibited,
The tincture of a sunblessed
Magpie’s tail.

CLOUDS
In the sky, the white
Took a slab of grey
The wind quickened
The cold beckoned
And gradually went away.
In the sky, the white
Took a slab of grey
The wind quickened
The cold beckoned
And some rain came out to play.

PAJAMARAMA
She looked at the black night
It was a reflection of light
In the window, she cried
Till I held her so tight
It all became real
Sometimes. Words fail
Not on that night, of a sad
Perspective of sight.

THE COUNCIL OF GHOSTS

The old man
Turned East and faced the breeze,
He saw trees, but then he saw trees
All those years ago,
Before the buildings were built,
And he had to go, to come back.
Most people don’t ask him,
And he probably wouldn’t talk about it either.
But he leans on the signpost, rusting since the 1950s
When it was shiny and black and white as a humbug.

APRIL INTO JULY

In the still night,
It was night still,
Hot, for a while I looked at
Photographs of summer
And when the sun didn’t come up
Very early, dragging the birds from their
Sleepy beds, I was in April still, night, still.

SPRING
In a boatshed
A lady was making sails
While the sun shone
On the harbour, light
Twinkling with renewed vigor that
Spread across the land
Sweeping backwards
Like her hair as she
Felt at one.

BRIC A BRAC

I went around the charity shops,
Looking for just the thing.
I’ll let you know when I find it,
Or when I have more peace of mind
Than things. But I saw a man who could be
A rock star crossing the street,
Maybe more priceless, than anything
That’s on the inventory sheet.
Hair tied back like a horse, on some Hollywood diet
In his DNA something of young Sean Connery
But he looked like he was a star
On the quiet.

2022
The world was out of sync
The sinks were out of soap
The young were having fun

They couldn’t remember

Too much to elope.
I had a dream when I was a child
Marriage seemed doomed.
It seems for misery,
The world has us groomed.
Maybe someone can change it,
Maybe they can’t
But I’m quite an individual,
More than a colony of ants.

MYTHICAL LYRICAL

A fella travelled miles,
To hunt for a mythical dragon.
He was avoiding the wife,
And had sunk a few flagons.
So he found himself magically at a cave
Near a host of trees.

The air was, still, the feint moon showing
Nothing but distant bees made the sounds worth knowing,
Until, the dragon appeared, tapping him on his shoulder
The dragon said, “Oh, who you looking for? Let’s
Hide behind this boulder.”

STORM IN A SEA CUP

Starboard and port
More port than starboard
The crew were getting nicely warm
The storm had them talking to the cabin
As there was no cabin boy.
Chewing on a biscuit, as the waves raged
Above, the youngest cove piped up
And asked, “Why did that cannonball not sink us,
Let alone give us splinters?”
The captain spluttered on a weevil, changed the subject
And said, “Now anyone want Captain’s special?
“Fried seagull?”

LABYRINTH OF LEARNING

The ancient Greek scholars take all the credit, and more
Trojan horses and that kind of thing
It becomes such a bore.
There’s a lady, with her hair
Fluttering like the flag of a ship that didn’t sail
As they were over considering the conditions,
While drinking some ale.
The lady, to get back to the very short story,
Was just a regular girl, waiting for her man
To appreciate her tattoos
And by design, he should drive a lorry.

FULLY BOOKED

There was a self help book,
Using a metaphor of the sexes as planets;
There was another, saying we are plants
And we must tend the garden well.
There was one book which was written by someone
Who never found help, let alone could free themselves from
Inner rain. Then there was a man/woman in the street, sexy
Who had a sign saying “A pound a hug”. And nobody
Ever bought a book again. Until they tried to help them
With words. Along came a person, who had a better quality
Silence. Books look good on the shelf. Not people.

PLAYING

We’re not playing with him,
They said, while watching everything
He did, from the comfort/diss of his bed.
Comedians get stuck in the victim/ bully dilemma
Writers can’t write away their troubles
Songwriters can heal, despite the spite
As music envelopes from another light.
Lawyers and the handy can’t repair the bonds of trust
That turned their families and dreams into dust.

RENT FREE

There’s a frigging in the rigging,
Or a drumming in the plumbing,
There’s a smell from the sink
There’s a continual silly clink.
But more than that, there’s a fight in my spirit
And it always takes me with it.

QUIET CITY

It was nearly May
And a cat trotted beside a hedge.
A pale orange dot, was a man
In his flat, smoking at the ledge.
The town was very quiet, even though
A Saturday night, said a calendar
On a stranger’s wall. No signs of life,
Although the lady on the wall’s smile said
“Life is good.” A car drove past just as I was
Thinking. This, is one quiet city.

SOLITUDE
I kissed one girl,
And a story unfolded.
It was a strange story,
About a person corroded.
I slept with one lady,
It was a long time ago.
I should have stayed in bed,
With the thrill of the snow.
But if I hadn’t done things, just as I did
I would not have special words,
Just the biscuit tin lid!

GROUND CONTROL

Morning,
Aeroplane scoured the sky
Holiday or business,
I don’t have to care why
It resounded around buildings in the Eastern
Block, or Travelled to America,
From a land that was too hot
For one passenger, who, I’ll never know
How it lands safely on those wheels is part of the show.

HAPPY SAD

It was pleasant to pass the time
In other’s words and songs
But there comes a time when you feel
It might be wrong,
To live vicariously from other’s emotions
Rather than feel the seasick feeling
Of the world in motion.

MET

Woke up, morning.
A light rain almost invisible
From the lighter grey clouds where
The sun was waiting to swing by
The South window,
In afternoon blue skies.

THE DRUGS DIDN’T WORK, BUT I DID

If I knew the hurdles I had to jump
I would have stayed in bed,
And I stayed in bed quite a while
Nobody else could jump these hurdles,
And would have thrown in the towel
I live and learn, I smile, my resting face is a scowl.

FLOW

The shifting sands snaked
Through the town,
People went along with it,
And it wasn’t just this town.
People appeared from here, and went
To there, like toys in some game.
And my day arose, and I never felt the same.

PUB DOOR
An oriental, not as delicate
As the freckle above her chest
A lady in boots
That make her seem Amazonian fruit
Full of zest.
A woman who shops for petite
And saves on the money
A woman black
Catty eye flicks
Just a darling. Honey.
A waif like creature
Who I’d like to feed.
A young wild cat
Who I couldn’t lead.
They all gather here
And I just observe
I am here to write, tonight
It’s my turn to serve.

RADIO
Joy Division
Middle table
Respectability
Music gets the best of me
Because I am a changeling child
Changing from one style,
Countryside, into another.

MY OWN MAN
The weather, this year
Has been kind.
Next year, I hope it doesn’t rescind
In the bar named after Lauder
My love’s labour wasn’t lost
I thought he sang I belong to Glasgow
But I try to remember
Which is why I’m boss.

PUB
In the pub
Football philosophy
Co commentary
From another angle
2 women talk about lives
And what’s passing by
Hair condition beautiful, by
The weather, rarely raining too much
Storms this year don’t frizz up
Or stick curls onto student foreheads.
They chat, unaware, as well lit
As the floodlit football fans
Singing.

NIGHT SHIFT
The library, used to be a honey hive
You’d see a vision of beauty
Across a book shelf
While from friends you want to hide
Now for indie film fans
It’s quieter than before,
As spooky as a wood
In some strange kind of strip light
Folklore.

RAIN
It hasn’t rained for a week!
She said, stamping
Down her foot.
And then, just then
A light rain fell
Giving nutrients to the roots.

HOLIDAY SKY

We sat on our deserted isle
Apart from one couple
Who had a sense of style,
Though not wearing much except tanned skin,
And as they applied the lotion
My wife got one upmanship
And ran to the sea,
Leaning on a piece of wooden staked poetry
And said to me…
It was lost in the breeze,
But I got the message, and then
She looked better than any Med,
Or Rose sky.

UNIVERSE

I thought I didn’t write poems
Until I was middle aged,
But I read my teenage, roaring 20s stuff
And it was a cut above
My expectations, for who I was
Time can take the dignity away
But I’m back here, just to say…
The 2020s are roaring again.

DANCING FUN
Try dancing to the lilt and phrasing of the BBC presenters etc.

PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE

An object, guitar for example
Say: this is my guitar it exists in the past, present and future.
Me saying my guitar has passed
Clutch your guitar in the ever present
Say, my guitar is a minute in the future, and wait a minute

PERFECT
The blue sky,
It wouldn’t be right if it was any other colour.
Sun crossed by clouds,
Then, Shadows moving across fields, of green.
Just the right shade; tall grass,
Lush waving.
Sea, sparkling.
Birds flit past when things seem static.
Cloud across the sun,
Key change in the soul.

SOLDIERING

The church
Clock lurches
Forward
In time
The hour stalls
Its metallic chime.
The blacksmith soldiered on
To his end.
Why should he lay his life
Down, with his friends?

SOMEONE

Evening, twilight
I said
To nobody.
And nobody took
Notes. Till they became someone.

IT’S COMING
The warm sunshine
Opened its window,
In the glory, of late March.
Trees bathed in it, welcome
The fir tree,
And the larch.
But like the football seasons,
The transfer window closed,
Till the warmth of the next time,
On holiday from indoor heating, we dip our toes.

SPIDERS

I’m a cheeky spider,
I’ve dropped down beside
Here. I go along repairing repairing
It’s just what I do.
I do it because I expect me to.
My screensaver was a cloudy sky
Filled with colours delicious,
Although it’s just fresh air
Not quite nutritious.
But don’t fret, I’m my own
Teacher’s pet. Regrets?
Make me human.

ALE OF THE MONTH
What is this sauce?
What is this sorcery.
The men and women in George Square
Are missing being a pair.
A hand to hold
In the cold.
Secret love of a woman
Or suppression of the man/ woman they love.

Themselves

A new statue catches a teardrop
In its warm hand.

DRAGONFLY

Caravan field in Cornwall,
Useful static, in that it didn’t move
Moved in the wind, swirling round
The door, came a little girl,
Who lived next door.
“Is the little boy coming out to play,”
She said, and her little voice,
Made me recoil into my football dreams,

SOUND AND VISION
Bouncing down the street,
To the least frequented park
In Oatlands.
Goose flew down,
So I wandered in
Flight of fancy.
None was needed, piece
Of mind came as I tore up some
Grass, and laid it down.
Hiss sunshine,
But you mean no harm.
And tore at some Hoar frosty
Green in April.
I gave a round of applause,
And wonder what fruits will
Be grown by September.
The dog house and dog track
Is a great place to be. When calm
Man.

CCA
Classic coke bottle
Too demure to be true at the table
Betwixt and between
2 women bewitched bothered and bewildered by hail. In April.
No showers today.
But classic lines and calligraphy
Beam like a Vogue cover
From Monroe or Madonna.

HEY VENUS
The staff
Of life. Walked in,
And was greeted like the coming
Of spring. Cause it is such a thing.
Laughter, enthusiasm, clinking
The bar staff are galvanized
Again and again.

CHOPSTIX
The evergreen needles
Weaving time and space
Need time to recover
So I found this place.
No chequered flag chef,
Just the young folk
Who prop me up. And
Take away, my cups.

ITALIA ‘90

The west coast wind,
Blew off the sea, like cold angel’s
Breath off a mint choc chip.
The Haar was lingering,
As I ate my rum and raisin,
And tried to steady my morning ships.
When I was a boy, I rushed back home,
Dinghyied my first compromised kiss.
And now I am happily alone,
And don’t make the wedding list.

BARMAID

The barmaid
Leans towards the amber nectar.
The house plants
Lean towards the sun.
A hula girl behind
Plays uke on a dusty bottle of rum.
They say any port in a storm
To belittle. She looks good in pink
Her belly button showing
Just a little.

WHAT ARE THE CHANCES?

When you are trying to be composed
There’s always one.
It’s a strange story,
Said the prossie to a passing nun.
The artist was trying to compose
When in walked a man
In workie boots.
When the workie man got home
His wife and Leonardo Da Vinci
We’re furiously, passionately
In Cahoots.

ALLO

I was a young barman
Are you being squeezed
I used to say.
I cried at home 4 am
And it wasn’t the low level pay.
A sea of youth, something wasn’t right
With me. Or you. Perhaps.
But all’s well that ends well
When I take one fallen Madonna
Into my
Tap dancing routine.

ROAM E I OH AND JULIET LEWIS
Crisp, refreshing
Like a screen
Door where she always leaves
To smile your way
Before you go and drink cider
A miracle, any which way.

CROW

Crow,
At the seaside. Dance
With breezes cool.
It’s just enjoying itself,
After it’s got full.

I read an encyclopedia,
And had to guess,
Why the crow doesn’t
Eat the grass like a goose,
While under the stars I got dressed.

DELL WINDOWS

The old computer monitor,
Her face still.
Flicking from one page, and back
To the next.
Not really working, but working at it.
I looked up, translucent, and thought it was clear.
But sometimes, dreaming in colour doesn’t matter
When day dreaming can make a person. Beautiful.

AFTER THE DRINKING
The brushes, two, one two,
Brushes sweeping,
Sweeping up
Sweeping up the doubts of the day,
Going down the street, the fretting,
The dots on the fretting.
Man alone. In a booth. Civil.
Circular, taking in the cigarette ends,
The bottle tops, the hopes of tomorrow
Break in a sunrise that spreads like a smile.

BOX FRESH

Seagulls, box fresh,
Colours expanding like Pop Tart from the tops
Of houses, painted in colours
By the ghosts of warring neighbours in
A 70s sitcom.
Tender rock, fossil been waiting a while,
For something to crack,
While someone sits patiently
Waiting, for an egg to boil.
Pages are leafed over like a breeze
Not drumming its fingers until the afternoon sunset.

OLD FOOTAGE

She sold seashells,
In a Victorian dress.
White fluttering amongst the sand
Not revealing her past, so looking her best.
People told their own fortune,
Into her ear that heard the sea.
She passes the dreams back to those who suggested them
In a summer, when veins are pulsing, like the reigns of a tree,

K

I tweeted,
Happy.
I said of a fun story, that was fun to begin with, “It’s hardly the lady from Mannequin.” I remembered standing on a plinths, waving
At the old folks in the town centre, chairs moulded orange
Like a space age design.
I sit in my dark tower. Ovid Video, Song of the South sea islanders.
Their history a dream of now. I thought up a drama on the bus
Detective with a brown paper bag, nobody notices him,
Solving and salving. Even though he’s really there.

BAR

She was in the bar,
Some couldn’t see her, much
Though near and far.

He could, a guy who propped it up
The weight of the world on his shoulders,
They both stared universes into their coffee cups.

I’d tell you, in detailed or simple words what they looked like,
But without a photograph?
So I’ll just leave the bar, and get on my imaginary bike.

LULL

She spoke quietly,
To me. Just to me. It was a change
In the air, after the storms of September.
She spoke, and her tongue controlled the
Atmosphere, like a fish, big and delicate,
One little movement in the fins adds to the Swish
Of the tale.

SEAGULL

Dishes, done.
No I just left them to steep.
I climb out of my couch trip,
And the water level has dropped.
Someone laughs, somewhere.
Not every seagull is a critic.
And the crickets and critics and critters
Inspire the mess in my head. Time to pour out a drink.
I think.

ANY TOWN CENTRAL

Do you remember the 90s,
She said,
Ordering a chocolate Wow.
It was like something from Central Perk,
Caffeine in coffee, it took the Americans to
Show us how.
People in real life in daylight hours, rarely find
Cause to talk to strangers, sitting in a bar.
And then there’s someone with no Friends,
Who can undo one, just by playing his guitar.

CABIN FEVER

I gave her a teenage love heart,
Saying “Meant to be.”
I struggled with this concept
While watching the cruel sea.
The bench was wooden, and the house it creaks
Our private world stretches and yawns, pleasant reeks.

CAPTAIN

Captain on the line, thread needle
Through the med.
Captain on the line,
Creels and fish, and he looks up
From his bread.

The aeroplane seems to be unstitched
Just making trails of thread.

He knows where his bread is buttered,
But would like to be in the polite blue air, instead.

EVERYONE DEPENDS ON THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

Walking, always walking too fast.
Learn, to slow
Down. If your poems make sense in their
Run on lines, slow them down. Period.
Take time to appreciate the sensual curves of the
Assembled crowds. Their finer details,
Even when the curves have taken over
From the jagged points they used to make
Holding a cigarette for style. The church of the crutch.
It’s a fine afternoon, a slight breeze hinting at possibilities
Charity shop finds. You.

MARY

The library,
Hush, said the air conditioning.
The pub,
Ghosted it’s way in the art
On the walls.
A girl fleeted from one to the other
Two ghost tatoo
A barmaid book lover.
They clung to her shawl,
Like kids praying for reality
The bets in the hedging,
Hedging their bets on Oblivion.
But it’s a beautiful haunt.

NESSIE

The West coast islands,
Are scattered; just like Nessie’s bones.
Don’t let on that I told you,
That he still exists, somewhere in a mobile home.
If you chap his door he’ll vanish,
Just like a toilet duck.
He protests nuclear war via telepathic sonar
Which is just our lochside luck.

PC WHIRL’D

My computer
Is less interesting than my commuter
Train. I jostle with possibility
When I hear the track’s refrain.
I step out, and the air waves
Warm in her blossom.
I don’t know who she is yet,
But I think her day is dawning.

PICTURE THIS

I have a crush,
On the woman on Sky Sports News.
I’ve decided to oversea the man crèche
And home and away I lose.
But I’m not really playing football
It’s just glinting grey eyes.
But a girl like a Sky Sports Lady
Is the wall mounted destination of my sighs.

MITCHELL LIBRARY

It’s late, March.
Cold as crisp as cold as beer.
But the reading room is warm,
Shorn of its locks. The young
Students aren’t here. I miss them.
Reading a book, sometimes the look
For a weakness, and to be at peak
Mental fitness bars the doors
Of perception. Maybe I’m no exception. But I’m always fighting
Subconscious currents.
And forgiving. Not taking.

Too much.

GHOST PHRASES

Between one
And the other
She’s looking out, sad
He’s looking, for another
Ghost phrases enliven
Their private parting.

FOOTBALL’S GHOSTS
The crowd, dead
The field, renewing
The energy it all generates.
The players seen by times so old
It’s b/w programmes, that venerate.

THE PLOUGH

Darkened skies
Lies upon hills
Fast moving plough
Trailing cloud
Night gull
Gazing stars, rain dirt
On empty window
Still.

BEAMS

The ballet
Shoe horse
A 2am wander
Its field of questions
Down past a train track
Beam stars to ponder.

NAMELESS

I don’t know
The names of the astral bodies
But I liked yours better
When I couldn’t remember your name
Like a flower in a meadow moonglow.

SIREN FOR SHOW

Ambulance driver
Sleep walkers cabin
Fever. Sirens, for a shut down
Town common denominator
Dog walks itself to dawn.

BLACK
The moon makes its move
Behind a slow moving cloud
Steady ships, bobbing
Weaving in a croft is a lady of this night
Bobbed hair, lives alone. No one comes near
For a million miles. Like a bold star.

DARK TREE

Inky black tree
At my window, beckons
To me. In the morning light
The feeling will have gone
Till tonight?

BODY

The starlings
Moved like a muscle
A twig cracked like a knuckle
The meadow moved like hair
The streams were strong
Like an insomnia moonbeam.

WAITING

Time drags on
A tale wags on
In the night
Taking shape
A morning bruise
Like the fight of light.

CELESTIAL BUS

The waiter brought
Me tea on a tray
The bus driver was angrier
With more energy
Than anything in the
Milky way.

FILL IN THE GAPS

Small world
Big wonders
Humans are more than blood
Or thunder. Jumper, boots
Ankle trousers, I’ve seen a face
Fill in the rest, rabble rousers.

NOAH

Skipping
Down a dank empty street
Gathering the pollen from trees
Shaking like underwater monsters
With their moving leaves.

SCARLET

They seek hymns
There they seek hymns
Here. To peace out the
Play for today. Slowing
The pace in the colourful grey.

WAVING FLAG

I used to
Live. Spend
Night’s alone.
Train, rattling me
In solitude
With imagination flag.

LONELY COTTAGE
At night, when they held
It all together,
In bed. They held all the years
When they were young up till now
It is said.

WINTER EVENING

Walking through the winter evening
Dark, mist lit up by pub windows
A pub I decide to go in,
And the faded games of yesterday
Some wins, some you have to take on the chin.
Walking out, the swirling moisture like dust motes.

NIGHT HAS BROKEN

Immediate, a streetlight
Fly small, coming in and out of
The light, like an elderly neighbour
Appearing and disappearing
To where, the mystery of the night.

TAXI

Night taxi,
Passing by the lonely. If
There is anyone else around.
A real car, or a dreamer passing through.
A story is no fun. Alone. In this story for two.
Taxi parks up. Green park casts its breath towards the town.

HARBOUR

Day, straining at the folk
Music tethered to this night,
Two stow aways in their own
Light, feeling tonight might just might
Be a good night. But time is running away
Like a lady at the harbour, looking back
To make sure he’s still there. Laughter.

OLD FASHIONABLE CLOTHES

He had a wardrobe of clothes
That were only in fashion
In student movies,
From days, student loans spent;
When the roads were quiet at night
He took to walking again, in them
Walking away from troubles, secret where he went.

ANKLE TROUSERS

After a fashion
There is one that is popular just now,
Amongst women that makes their
Ankles exposed to the chill in the air,
But I don’t want to talk about it
As once these things are defined
People tend not to care. Fashion floating about out there.

LIGHT

When you were 4 or 5
The light of the school,
At evening was a certain way
Or it could have been an 80s chip shop
In light
That never really went away.

BATS

A bat, then two
Tumble, through the middle of the night
An empty road, crossing
Paths two cars as I switch on the kitchen
Light.

JUST THE TICKET

I woke, up
From your dream
It seemed churlish to claim it
When I saw the sunshine beam
In a day with no hecklers. Save
The ones outside,
On my train of thought, they don’t have to ride.

AYR TRIP

Train to Ayr
To get there
Cows sitting in the sun
Elegant breeze day has begun
Horses tenderly resting
On each other
Only thing missing
Is a train journey lover.

I took a train
On my own
Scenery and sunshine
Away from home.

Sunshine through my window
To keep me company
Occasionally smiles,
On my journey.

Sunshine window
Train to Ayr
Occasionally smiling sun
Says, “Try not to care.”

A journey
A hundred miles
And 20 sunshine smiles
While away the hours
Avoiding scattered showers.

AYR

Cloud,
Throwing shade
Waves
Nicely composed
Music making me feel
At one, with the sun.

TIME MACHINE
The mould of the old
Was broken years ago,
But someone kept their VW Beetle.
Through time, it flows.
Through years, changing gears.

EASY

The mood isn’t blue
But the sky…
But the morning sky is blue;
Cloud wisps, at a painterly brush
With music in the air,
Taking shape, like the high spirits
Coming back to you. Tapping along.

SPELL

The world
After a spell
Of rain.
Woke up to magic
Scents of earth
Grounded
Coffee.

RAINBOW

Hooded
Crow
Under a rainbow
Which appeared
Like a colourful ghost,
While a corner of the sunshowersky
Used all the colour in my pencil.
Time for toast.

TIME AND SPACE

Walk, with the night
Breezes, tenderly
Echoing around
The streets and the trees,
Gravity of the cemetery’s
Ornate gate.
The wrought iron man
Didn’t have time to wait.

BARGA

The quiet bar,
Before the weekend arrives
Like birds talking on a telegraph wire
Saying, “Another week. We survived.”

OCCASIONALLY

The morning sunshine of June,
Was sharp,
Like it was the February light
I never noticed, singing its tune.
Later, the golden evening light
As the sun casts us to shadows
Turned leaves into Autumnal shades
In summer meadows.

SAIL FOR SOUL

On the dunes,
She couldn’t commit
To an emotion.
Shifting sands,
Betrayed her devotions
Until,
The tide turned,
And brought her in
Life is a battle
You occasionally win.

DAYS OF YORE
When I was young
I let my self
Consciousness play games.
Looking back, I looked fine
And now my face is most certainly mine.
Although it doesn’t look as fine,
All the time.
A Hollywood star, I’ll never be
But the face of my day, is up to me.

MIDWEEK
She watched coke bubbles rise
Reflections of her rum drink
In the half light at home
The day brought to its brink

She danced within the room
Till her thoughts weren’t so scattered
And then she heard a mew,
Which didn’t deceive, it flattered.

MY VIKING AMBER

I’ve been to fantasy islands,
I’ve seen more than 7 wonders,
I thought of a poetic lady
And the sky thundered
Lightning.
I thought of someone
And I saw a corner of the sky brightening.
I have been given a gift to set it down
Breezy, to capture my life in amber isn’t Easy.

JUNE
June. Heavy with green leaves,
Bus from city
Has its Saturday early evening
Body language. People leaning in,
Relaxed shoulders. An Asian fella
Showing a music video.
Quieter than the usual rush hour.
Heavy rain, viscous world in gusts:
A shot across the boughs.

HERO

The blood.
The hares a coursing
To their destination. Finally
A reason to live,
With themselves. Isn’t easy.
Their cause is just. Passion
Coursing through their veins.
The cause of the cause,
Brings severance from heroic ties.

FILM
They’d watched so many films,
There was a film between them
And the world. They were trapped in
Someone else’s narrative,
Letting it ride them, like Kings and Queens
Looking down on the village horses
And their riders. The film took away
Their ability to feel. Anything that was real.

VICTORIA
Went to the country park
It wasn’t dark, even though it rhymes
We are getting on
And having a good time
I crossed the river, on a fallen tree
Just to impress on her an idea
That things will get better
As we coast along to the coast, another day
Another day to find the centre of the milky way
I heard a voice telling me that she was never there
Present, in my life. She was
Still, sleeping beside me. And only me.
Because who else is there? But her folded tops
With more colours than a rainbow pencil set
She draws with, churches and trees.
And sky blue flecked white fidelities.
Black Victoria’s secret? She’s not there
But she is.

LITTER PICKING

The breeze whispered to the summer wind,
Then a fiver blew towards me, and
I took it.
The leaves circled, above the pavement,
A tree moved, invisible forces shook it.
I found a chocolate wrapper, from
A land I’ve never been to.
Detritus on the street,
Gives the morning litter collector something to lean to.

SOLSTICE

A summer day of gentle lights
Solar power begins to warm to
The dusking skies after ten.
Solstice tomorrow, children colourful
Were chasing each other in the echoing green.
Adults still talking under shaded parasol.
Who will remember the play of today?
Maybe only me,
When the year has gone away.

GEORGE SQUARE
I went to a bench
Where the clocks go to unwind.
It was sunny,
Walter Scott must have been one of a kind.
I made stories to fit, each strangers gait
Open my paper, and then I see a pigeon’s amber eye
Noticed 40 years late.

VICTORIA
Went to the country park
It wasn’t dark, even though it rhymes
We are getting on
And having a good time
I crossed the river, on a fallen tree
Just to impress on her an idea
That things will get better
As we coast along to the coast, another day
Another day to find the centre of the milky way
I heard a voice telling me that she was never there
Present, in my life. She was
Still, sleeping beside me. And only me.
Because who else is there? But her folded tops
With more colours than a rainbow.
She draws churches and trees.
And sky blue flecked white fidelities.
Black Victoria’s secret? She’s not there
But she is.