Archive for August 27, 2014

Black roads to the mind

On the black tarmac road
next to the silent driver
in the rhythm of the engine
thoughts emerge to live a little,
growing into adulthood as poems:
oversized obese sestina’s,
frolicking free verses
or remaining youngsters, the size of a mere haiku,
before they die in the gloom of red traffic lights,
and buried quietly next to the dead sheep on the moors.
Then we go on and the driver never looks back.

A look ahead to the 2 poetry volumes “Roads 1” and “Roads 2” which are due to be published by Winter Goose in March next year πŸ™‚


What has been said, all fondness, now is gone, replaced
by murmurations of indifferent looking words, unbound.
I connect the dots they are to make a life line
for us both, but where are you? The buoy has sunk.
Clueless do we swim in darkest water with no ground.

Still life goes on. Today I watched the storm
turn over littered pages: words once printed –
fading dots, they spoke to me without a sound.
Maybe it’s time to read back all your letters
but I don’t expect the fondness will be found.

%d bloggers like this: