A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.

INDEED



Many shades of silence
Enrich us in our dreams,
Enclosed within an echoing
Of colour never seen,
A liquid flesh and naked will
Fulfill the need, it seems,
To laugh and cry,
Dance or fly,
As liberty supreme.

LED BY THE NOSE

Love has no season,
Unlike the rose,
Nor has it reason,
I suppose.

WISH


My heart is a wish
In the palm of my hand,
Stained,
With pain and sorrow
Slipping through
Like grains of sand,
Dreaming of tomorrow,

TAKING STEPS


I climbed imaginary steps
For a higher view,
And found me
Looking down on you,
So I kicked them away,
And the rope around my neck,
Broke my fall.

LETTER FROM BOB

I will admit
A craving to travel,
While I suck and spit,
Rearranging
the gravel,

Dream on - Bob,
Dream on . . .

Till no stone
is left unturned,

There's no real chance
For a searching soul
To escape
from the trance
Of a goldfish bowl,

Dream on - Bob,
Dream on . . .

Glasshouse lessons 
still unlearned,

It's a dream of mine
To swim a straight line,
An ocean, 
a river
Or even a stream,

Dream on - Bob,
Dream on . . .

To be out of reach,

should the cat bore of cream . . .








SONG

Eyelids may shut, 
To enclose us within our dreams,
Breathing suspended, 
Ghosts may sleep on, 
Undisturbed 
By the long reaching arm of fragrance,
But there is one gateway remains, 
Completely unguarded, 
An open well shaft 
Falling straight to the soul.
The voice, the ear.
The pegasus of sound, 
Softly feathered and floating, 
Descends unimpeded 
To those depths of incandescent brilliance.
And riding bareback, 
A host of invisible messengers, 
Unobserved, 
Silently informing secrets.
The gentle currents of their language 
Adding a subtle,
Yet vibrant symphony. 
I hear not a sweet melody alone,
But accompanied 
By a choir of angels.

SIREN


Had I but one
Mortal heart,
It now lays split in two,
Pierced by a purity,
A sweet, silken duet,
Of tender lips
And bejewelled soul.
In the mist rising
From the ocean of my dreams,
There she sits,
Glistening,
Upon a dark rock,
Favouring her jet black hair
With an idle combing,
Eyes cast down
At a reflection
Too charmed,
That all who hear
This siren song -
And dare to glimpse
The ivory breast,
The raven cascade,
The cherry-ripe lips,
Eyes,
That distant sunshine bring,
The shimmering
Of a rainbow tail,
As lazily
It stirs the sea -
Will take that final memory,
And two pieces of heart,
To the deep, dark,
Bottomless blue,
The comforting canyon
Of death.

STORM


A line of gibbous deckchairs
Emptied by a storm,
Flappering accompaniment,
While white gulls
Squawk and swarm.

MOMENTS

Moments,
Like snowflakes
Enclosed in the hand,
Drift
Across my mind . . .

BREATH OF HEAVEN

How gently we are born 
Upon the wind of change,
That mighty storm
Reaching us as barely a whisper,
How softly we are carried
From moment to moment
With scarcely a hair to rearrange.