Category Archives: Poetry

The reflections that I’ve touched in the mirror of your eyes

Hard as a mirror
Your face reflected
What you see is what you are
What you remember is what you see

Hard as a mirror
Your face reflected only what it could see
Snowflakes in spring
Containing the dust of an unrecognised heart

Hard as the mirror in your eyes
Your secret place of fear
Reflections always reflections of the girl you want to be
O the world you want to change

Hard as the mirror in your eyes
A closed mirrored door that has seen what you see
Long before you see it now
When complete and terrifying it made your heart its home

Hard as the mirror of your tour guides heart
This is where now the once-thing might happen
This is how it became what it will be
Here and there in the mirror of your eyes

And your arteries harden with times made reflection
And here you are as you were then
Dammed up and dammed by times cruelest emotion
To love fear and to fear love and to yearn for magical meanings in your love

Hard as the mirror in your eyes
Your hands clenched the salt but ignored the honey
Beneath the surface of the docks
The fish swam from you in shoals

Beneath the dark cold water as the cormorants huddled on the rafts
Looked at you with eyes like dark mirrored demons
Concealing your wings at their sides, giving you their wings
Flapping their wings in the mirrors of your eyes

As the fish hid in the deep dock waters fearful at the reflections of the tall dark cranes
But your reflection came and went like the reflection in the mirror of your long lost eyes
Where a strip of my flesh is hooked and bleeding like a crumb of bread in the mirror of your soul
Falling deeper into your long forgotten secrets

Falling back deep down into the roots of your reflections
The reflections that I have touched in the mirror of your eyes

2000

The Englishness in Me

I love kicking stones about
Down an empty street
Watching how they curve,
Sometimes changing feet.

I love to kick a stone, alone
Across an empty path
To Sometimes loose it down a drain
Then I have to laugh

I love to kick a stone in my path
Just to see where it goes
There’s no rhyme or reason why
It’s the energy in my toes

Sometimes there’s some kind of goal
A vague one, like a dream
Sometimes I feel happy
Sometimes I feel mean

Sometimes I’m a poorboy
Kicking stones in the street
Sometimes I’m a footballer
With lightning in my feet

But stones are all I kick at
Stones are all I have
I’ve never had a football
I was never one of the lads

In winter my nose was runny
My eyesight’s poor to tell
A big red bus from a goalpost
Or a whistle from a playground bell

But I love to kick a stone
Against some big old tree
And run with it across the road
That’s the Englishness in me

2000

Sleep Little Misery

Poem about chronic depression

Sleep little misery
Your whole life has been death
Sleep little abortion
You will never have breath.

It’s the way I have carried you
Since time began
With bruises and beatings
Confused, as a man.

An impossible beginning
In the wrong body
Without thought or feeling
A stone cold nobody.

A poem about long term, undiagnosed depression, which I think has become common in society. I thought to publish it here; maybe it has wider application than original idea.

With my head lodged in the moon

With my head lodged in the moon

With my head lodged in the moon
Eating bright cold fire of imagination
The bogus halo of crystal hurricane
Mans hunger snapped like dry spaghetti

Oh I love you with my bifocals on
Watching the transformation of birds
Into straight jacketed screaming gargoyles
As I float like a chess piece in eternity

When at edges, boundaries and borders
Vertigo becomes a snake in love
Between two sheets of pure steel
Sounds are pressed out like bells ringing

I live a simple life within a crisp packet
And the dawn feeds me flakes of glittering corn

2003

I want to know about you.

I want to know about you
Why hide yourself?
I want some pieces of you
To paint a portrait.

I want some colours of you
To taste on my tongue.
I want some of your breath
To fill my lung.

Every escaping light from your eyes
To fill my scrapbook;
Every murmer made in your sleep
A momento to keep.

To whole world is described
Time and time again.
I want to know about you
Who I may never see again.

Love Story

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The foolish youth believed the girl
To be in love with him
So did the old man

Old man time and young man time
Sat upon a bench
Silent

The young girl, always young!
Whilst man grws old and dies
The young girl remainsupon the earth
She is dancing and playing magic tricks

Enticing their age with magic
Flirting with time
Playing with hearts both old and new

The foolish youth sat with old man time
He remembered life
He collected memories in his heart

The foolish youth believed
The young girl to be in love with
Him
Yet here he was
Why she flirted with him
Is mystery
To his foolish heart
Yet how can he answer
When the young girl
Flirts now only with his heart
But wiht the very heart of life
That old man time guards
So jealously

circa 1971

The Highway News

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The latest highway news was delivered
Then left immediatly
The man who delivered
The sad blues
Never wished to be seen.
Minutes beforehand the stranger left
So dear to the vagrants heart
Bowing her head not looking
Not noticing the shame
That had been brought upon them all
By the deliveryman’s game.
He stood at the roadside
Sweating, his head was in a spin
More mystery had been in his dreams that night
Then all the dreams he’d been in