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


I hold a fragile cup in trembling hands,
Its content, this life's greatest treasure,
Fearful, lest one drop be spilled.
The loving cup, once passed, demands
Of care and trust, beyond all measure,
Until our thirsting hearts are filled.


There'll be a time,
It comes to all
When just like Alice,
I recall,
Tiny things will loom up large,
Enormity appear so small,
And leaving this one life behind,
Where tunnel vision
Turned us blind,
We'll wonder why we did ignore
The questions that our spirit asks,
Choosing not to stand in awe
For favour of much lesser tasks,
Never seeing what Alice saw,
A human being,
In wonderland.


Set within a cabinet
Of walnut and tortoiseshell,
A soft, amber glow
Discretely illuminates
The science of the dial.
Nimble fingers
Twist & spin around
The black, knurled,
Bakelite knob,
Cracking the safe,
Tuning in,
Surfing the sound.
Amidst an ocean of noise,
A golden island
Rich with organic warmth,
A sepia toned voice,
Smooth and sweet as honey,
Spilling its magic,
Through the art deco grille.


Lips close around a lovers' seal,
Much more than just a kiss,
And doors in hearts
Swing open wide,
Secure and safe in this,
Souls escape and flying high,
Free as birds inside the breath,
They rise to meet,
In a long moment of play
With their own reflection,
Absorbing the warmth of another sun,
Sharing, knowing another love.
Two spirits dancing as one,
Lost in the clouds of ecstasy.
To some maybe it's just a kiss,
But you and me, I pray,
Such bliss.


Which I remembering do,
upon seeing mixwards
among the grasses,
circular standing of mushrooms,
perhaps toadstools,
greyish brown, splashes of red,
not human blood let,
sat around and jumped over,
a flutter of lace winged
fairies, singing,
dancing, playing
in the general
tea time,
till suddenness of blue frog
leap centrally,
all take fright,
make flight, away
to invisible sphere,
shame of that,
though frog a
beautiful thing,
doesn't fly.


When I stare down from my final home,
Tears blurring my vision,
With such a longing in my heart,
Helpless to speak or touch,
Reaching out no further than my new being allows,
Oh, how I shall envy you,
Still at play,
Through eternal night
And infinite day,
Wishing only that I could once more
Chase the sand as it falls.
Each grain a precious second
To share my deepest love.

You, my unknown friends,
I ask you now,
Take this thought away,
That I may see it
Glowing in you
From afar.


Oh how that steady marching hour
Deliberates each pace,
Reluctantly, to free those days
Enslaved in its laborious race.

And every man should mark that power
Engraved upon his glorious face
Much more than wound or scar portrays,
Much less to feel disgrace,

For wisdom builds, indeed, a tower,
No place for age to seem debase,
But find, fulfilled and shouting praise,
When climbed by God's redeeming grace.


Skull cracked,
Jagg'd edged rafters scratch the grey sky,
A dark victim, yawning to catch cold rain's fall
As morning unsettles and storms roll by.

Fractures of tile litter long rotted floor
In this once precious pile
That is treasure no more.
Cave-painting tatters flap at the wall,
Tired of their fashion,
Now soaked in the squall.

Stone-smashed sockets for eyes
To reflect, in shades, the blood-lit sunrise,
Made to mindlessly howl
With the wind's blind rage -
Where sashes would stutter and folk would scowl,
A summer breeze flutter the unturned page.

Feeling through bars
Barely sealing the cage,
Brittled and gristled,
Toughened by age,
Droop impotent arteries
Drained of their power
To shock with surprise,
Or to clock this last hour.

Mould interrogates history's stain
Gagging it, silencing memory's pain.
Sad, unsold, brave but unsound,
The old house, stubbornly
Standing its ground,
Waits for the curtain-call
Hung from a chain.
A date with a wrecking-ball
Swung to its brain.


Light upon the whispering crest
Of the wind's balmy tide,
Distant hillsides tiptoe near.
A cowbell rings, sky lark sings,
A lamb's new pleading cry we hear.
Each vibrant beat of insect's wing
Lends a sleepy laziness
To the heat warped haze,
Underscores its shimmering.
Unique in all and seamless time,
Played by chance or by design?
Nature's summer symphony.


Heaven shed those silvered tears,
Slow, silent beads of daylight,
Slipping sadly out of frame.
The world appears
A smear of grey light
Straining through the window's pain.

Oh, how much does our Father weep
To find his sons and daughters slain,
Then hide behind such deep deceit
And call His crying
Falls of rain?

Let the blood wash from the streets,
Clear each heart from foolish stain,
And hear the splash of dancing feet
In pools, that tears of joy retain.


I've a secret
Here to tell,
Whispered to me
By a shell.
All of matter
Doth behave
As if it were
An ocean wave.
Hear it well,
Lest idle chatter
Break the spell.


It would appear that not all know
The songs that call our inner ear,
From chambers seldom seen aglow,
Yet ever present, ever near.

Those darkened crypts within the heart,
Whose heavy walls keep us from fear,
Protect when love is torn apart,
Are where, withdrawn, we'll crying hear.

A plaintive, faintly whispered air
From once exultant throat now trills,
The notes that stream no courage dare
To dream beyond the cage it fills.

The bluebird shines, resplendent still,
But sapphire quills no more take wing,
As every bar of music spills
A sadness, difficult to sing.


Across the ocean
Cold and deep,
Slow in orbit,
Warm its sweep,
Oh beacon light
My fears respite,
Save this traveller
Of the night.
Your beam so bright
Will safely keep
As all the world
Is fast asleep,
If by my side
Past danger sure,
You are my guide
Till home once more.


In the heat of the moment,
My thoughts evaporate
Before they touch my soul,
Silent, melting words,
Hang, Daliesque,
From my tongue.
All motion suspended,
I wait for a cooling breeze
Through the gaping,
Curtainless window,
To lend me a new breath,
With a hollow hope
That the dark night
Bring relief,
When -
Dreams arise
Like steam
In feverish
Half sleep,
My mind
By the drone
Of the electric fan,
My rhythm
Tuned to its next
Blessed oscillation.
The rush of warm air
Reminds me
That I have a body,
As I drift and float
In this still, dead, salty sea,
In the heat of the moment,
Held prisoner till dawn.


Who cast the moon so far
That she remains
Betwixt and between?
Ring-a-ring o' roses,
Marble streaked,
Vast, silent, and captive,
Deathly pale
In cold reflection of the sun.
Mute and serene,
Yet her potent stillness
The mask may change,
Through crescent, half,
Gibbous and full,
And the great illusion
She performs,
To vanish wholely
From the air,
Although unseen,
The moon is there.


A moment told me so.
Restless time hung its weary head
And sat beside me for a while.
We drank deep the waters of life,
Together washing the dust
From our throats,
And that moment
Told me all I wanted to know.
Filled with silence and calm,
Warmth and strength,
I understood.
All detail fell away
Revealing a majesty,
A luminous, crystal power,
Stretching both ways
To the infinite,
At once
Intimate but universal,
Nurturing yet unyielding,
All and nothing.
That moment
Lasted forever,
And that moment is still here
Under the dust and days,
And fallen leaves.


Simple then,
Simply colours,
Untouched by censure.
The colours of the heart.
We did not paint them there,
The green of envy,
The blood red rage.
'tis but a soul in refraction.
Simple then,
To feel those colours,
And while reflecting
On the same,
Be fulfilled,
But give no name.


From the invisible,
The silence,
From nothing,
The thought,
The word,
Gave birth
To this world.
From no place,
Not even darkness
It sprung,
Not even before.
Then came
A beginning,
For time,
For space.
We are creators,
From the invisible,
From nothing,
Not even before,
We came
To one place,
Each thought,
Each word,
A new beginning,
Slowly growing,
Our dreams
Of each other,
By a knot
Of love.


I have felt the coldness
Of life's setting sun
As warmth and light
Slip away into night,
And stared upon
That blackened yaw,
Forever now,
The returning breath.
A slackened jaw
Reciprocates at the last,
With one final sigh
The gift of birth,
Whispering a fare-thee-well
To the world,
Proclaiming another death
On earth.

In a rude, confusing shock
Of the inevitable,
This intrusion of honesty
Confronts me,
Lays bare my secret fear.
Reality's sterile scalpel
Cuts deeply,
Pares completely
Down to the bone.
I wrestle with
My disbelief,
Weep unashamed,
My tears of grief.

Yet surrounding me
A reverent sweetness
Lingers in the air,
A trace of angels' perfume there,
The scent of tranquility,
A soft, calm, stillness,
Strangely comforting.
A distant voice
Is calling down
To us, who live
And laugh and cry,
" I,
My inner eye,
Yes, I shall love,
But never die."


Searching behind your portrait
Framed within my mind,
I imagine you
Alighting from a stool,
A motion
Lends to your skirt
An alluring swirl,
My thoughts frenzied,
By the first sensation
Of your fragrance . . .
Scenes, visions,
Flash across my brain,
Then are gone,
Merciful in their brevity,
Or these eyes would never
See again.


Love is not exclusive,
Love dwells within,
Love does not only answer to one name,
Love is who we are and want to be
And seeps like the air we breath
Between all the cracks and crevices
Of our days,
Our worlds,
For we each have a world
Of our own
With a population of one.
There are as many images of God
As there are different worlds,
But there is always
And there can only ever be
One truth.
Sometimes we cry out
To be shown that truth,
But it can only come to us
In our own way,
A way our world will recognise.
Sometimes it is a whisper,
Sometimes a scream,
Often just a silent knowing
Suddenly filling
That aching void,
The calm and peace
Of truth restored.
Longing is not the same as love,
Longing is a bridge
That true love must cross
To meet at the centre,
Each leaving the safety
Of their own world
To risk that journey.
One does not lure another
Over to the opposite side.


A dream it would be
In which I share
Her golden skin,
Her raven hair,
Those darkest eyes
That gaze so deep within me,
Her smile, that warms my heart
With the power of a summer sun,
Such sparkling youth
Dances around her
Like a fountain at play.
Her name
Rings like a chime,
And brings to my mind's eye
Those priceless colours of nature,
Lapis Lazuli,
The sky most Blue,
Oceans of Aquamarine,
A Topaz hue.
Between the Pacific
And South China Sea,
Is where my soul
Since, longs to be,
My paradise,
My angel's home.
Ah, would that she
Belong to me.


A feral spirit gift has she,
Exuding femeneity,
Stealth and grace
In perfect place
Accompany her deity.

Felidae regina,
Queen of felinity.

Tho' radiant face
Yields clue nor trace,
Felicitous eyes
Deny her race
As native to humanity.

Alone may shaman's sight divine,
Belying emeraldine shine,
Prowling round an inner space
Where soul and body interlace,
Proud of her majestic line,

Felidae regina,
Queen of felinity.


Should you near the sea today,
And chance to feel the softest spray
Fall light upon your lips,
Its salty taste may well display
The like as on my fingertips,
For they have freshly caught a tear
From dropping to the floor,
That formed as I came fraught with fear
At thoughts of you, but you no more.