Moon

The moon with its great

One-eyed-insect glare

Bathes the garden tonight,

Even the moths seem to be

Hiding from her searchlight glow.

 

Perhaps they have all

Upped wings and beaten

Their way high up toward

This beacon, so low in the sky

On this late summer’s night?

 

Or do they all meet secretly,

Under the leaves and bushes,

Whispering quiet thoughts to each other?

Plotting ways to make contact

With this great eye-in-the-sky.

 

The moon waits patiently

For the sun to end its vigil

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A poem for you if you’ve ever lost in love or lost someone close: how we remember them

 

SOFT-PADDED FOOTPRINTS

Your laughter hides there, waiting patiently

At the far edges of your mouth,

Ready to possess every pore of your face

From the corners of your crows-feet eyes,

Sweeping gently down those familiar

Lemon-scented, quick, curled lips.

Like soft-padded footprints

Stretched across warm desert sand,

Your smile keeps me company

Long after you have left the room,

Leaving me anticipating your arrival

Emerald eyes pin me where I stand.

Wherever I walk, at all gatherings

Of family clans and meeting friends,

Your laughter walks always with me

Even though photos and memory are

My only evidence left behind

Of your ever being here at all.

 

Excerpt from ‘Colours’ a book by himself


I have spent the past six months writing when the mood takes me and now have around fifty poems to seek a publisher.

Whilst this is ongoing I hope you like this sample from three poems:

Blue Wizard

Impossibly blue are you

Azure, turquoise, lazuli-lidded

As you lie, awakening

To the gentle lull of the day 

You lap your waves, your swell

Rolls and washes into the shore

Prayer to the heavens

Yours is the kindly face of one thousand Angels 

Eyes twinkling through inken heavens

Do you marvel at the great Majesty that is man?

Do you worship his magnificence?

Fugue

What if there is purpose to their buzzing?

What if it is more than draft and waft of wings on air?

What if they are Bach’s horns or Beethoven’s even?

Leading us along dawn’s awakening fugue