And so the dread of summer
with its sand and salted bodies
scintillating in the sun
radiant in the bright night lights
writhing to tribal rhythms
with unrelenting beats
and doing things we wished we hadn’t
when regretful morning comes
poem
Kissless
I watched for more than a moment
were you in my sightline
or was I just staring
You were taking selfies
head thrown back
glass raised
laughing and grinning
hugging best buddies
you didn’t glance towards the corner
where I sat sipping
tart Lime soda
that made my teeth sting
And there amid your festive fun
the decorations
froze my heart
Especially the mistletoe
Inside
So now the shutters are down
and the locks are locked
the old house holds it’s breath
while at it’s centre the ticking clock
marks the demise of each cell
as second by second
I diminish
and the anomalous smiles
of long gone folk
fade in the dust
on the mantel
Dalliance
Lets go down to the bluebell wood
to lie beneath the new sprung leaves
and let the patterns of their shadows
dance upon our bodies
And we’ll snuggle
to annul the fresh spring breeze
which bears the scent
of those virgin flowers
that wreath us as we watch
the insects search
for nectar
They’ll be no apples nor any snakes
and yet we’ll sin as one
hidden there in bliss
amongst the bracken
and lucky white heather
Open Mic Night
The poet shouts
a staccato storm of
savage words
while the herd
their boozy chatter briefly silenced
listen without hearing
the carefully constructed string of accusations
spat in disdain
of their vitality
in the diseased society
that she curses and decries
with every hissing predication
powerful and passionate
she fiercely pleads for action
for the hoard to rise
and reject the captains
who steer this broken sphere
where poverty and war endure
Finally she ceases
scowling and sweaty
drops the mic and bows
while the crowd
turn back to their beery cheers
and laughter
Storm Brewing
We sat on a bench
Watching the seething sky
While the merciless wind
Whipped at our cheeks
When tenderly you took my hand
You said you’d die for me
You said you’d die for me
Yet that was long ago
Youth is foolish and unwary
Yes, in the moment I believed
Your untrue truths
But how you lied to me
But how you lied to me
Bully
Brute
Beast
Before long
It was me who died for you
Underneath
On our third date
In the hope
that you might stay
I chose red underwear
Now I only ever wear
mis-matched grey
August
I lurch through
the damp eyed days
and bitter nights
of endless Autumn
thinking of your summer love
bathed in warmth
salty tousled hair
sand leaching on amber limbs
champagne sunsets
and steamy nights
wish I was her
At night
I am a secret
in the dark
curled and stretched
a cat
and not
I go to places
imagined
and real
yet no-one
sees me
I soar and swoop through
fantasies
but remain
still
breathing
In blackness
I feel soft
down
enveloped
alone
With you
Ordinary People
In the space where souls wait
where even the saints have regrets
the walls ring with the guilt and shame
of those narrow lives
lived in insular oblivion
Reflections of selfless love
and children’s innocence
illuminate the dark corners
purifying the air
and disgracing the damned
Too late for wishes and dreams
they lay discarded
slippery as wet pebbles
whilst hope lies shattered
in shards of sorrow
meekly we gather in the centre
clutching our confessions
and remorse
to contemplate our foolish little lives
and await the price
Rebooting 