Twitter bits – make what you will

stalactites creep
towards stalagmites
of columns

a universal sigh
you get
the picture

drawn by desire
pips fall to the earth

was I gone too long
now forgotten …

I hurled myself
into an abyss
the universe
caught me
by the feet

have I lost my reach
can I still touch your senses?

she lost herself
his eyes
smooth pebbles

I catch my breath
hold it close a moment
and hurl it forth
watching seagulls fly
into the blue beyond

the promise of new love
she hurled herself
into making art



Catness X 3

stillness sighs
why why why
leaves start to gossip


water drips
from the inky sky
street lights leak onto the road
her tail a question
she meows at the door


a bell jingles
behind the curtains
I stare intently
into a cup of tea


Messy Red – revised


I wear red to face the day,
come on, root chakra,
kick in! Give me strength!


How many shades, I wonder,
in the spectrum,
of opaque, translucent, variegated
openings of red?


Red courses through my legs
straight to my heart.


Strawberry gleam
in a crystal dish,
a woman pouts
as a man pours on
thick cream.


Red patent shoes
with red soles
sullied with mud,
she dips her handkerchief
in a puddle
and sits on the pavement
to clean them.


Red candy
swirls in a lollipop,
a little girl skips
on a grey winter’s day.


Red woollen coats
somehow feel warmer
than navy blue.


A man and a woman
walk arm in arm in the wind,
her crimson scarf
caresses his cheek,
their eyes look ahead,


Red inflections floating
on a sunny day,
eyes shut enthralled.


I shall carry
a single red carnation
so that you know me.


A new lipstick
in a shiny black case,
red courage, of course.


Red lip prints
on random shop windows
tell secrets
to those
who follow…


I become glorious red
in all its messy shades.

Each stanza is less than 140 characters – I have followed Sam’s suggestion and extended this into a 13 part poem following Wallace Stevens “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” 

Small Stones in early July

July 2

doggie needs to pee
the door creaks open
protesting the cold air
wafting as
the central heating
blasts warmth
on a cold winter’s
July night

July 4

I was on Facebook tonight and I saw a post from Yoko Ono’s page so I followed her link to a review about her book Acorns ( The article talks about the acorns she and John Lennon planted back in 1968 and their vision of living sculptures around the world of paired oak trees. There is an extract from her book in the article about listening to what other people are thinking  … nice playful irony I thought and so wabi sabi … it reminded me of the invisibility of listening, how I tried to understand this phenomenon over a decade ago through my doctoral dissertation and how I struggled to express my meandering thoughts through academic writing  … anyway her poem triggered a chain reaction in my brain. Below is my spontaneous play on her words.

Listen to the raging wind outside my door
Listen to the wind outside your window
Listen to the wind swirling from the sun
Listen to your climate system
Can you hear the turning of the ground …

July 5

my ear hairs bristle
biting wind blows through
southern cross glitter

July 8

steaming chicken soup
a balm for weary bones
chewy whole grain rice

sighs turn to comfort
spoon clinks an emptied bowl
ghosts leave haunted eyes


between words
unspoken thoughts

his stutters
a world

the flowers
flight paths

between mosquito

the toes
fields of wonder

two hearts
joie de vivre

two hands
creation claps


A Place Closeby

I move along
the ground, balancing on each
leg in turn.

On golden stalks
ripening seeds catch the wind
in a thoroughfare,

I am arrested,
compelled to stop and listen
with my eyes,

I hear sounds,
traffic in the shopping strip,
punctuated white noise,

I have walked
here many times catching light,
imagining noir scenes,

the warehouse arches
its rusty corrugated iron back
into blue sky,

I venture closer,
there is a surprising absence
of human voices

and no graffiti
shouting from the rendered walls
stained with decades.

A drainpipe slithers
breaking it into almost halves,
balance is precarious.

Poetic inspiration: dVerse– FormForAll: La Lune (Collum) w/ Semaphore


A candle burns
an orange glow
ancestors congregate
with love


The veil thins
the moon beams


From the edge
a solstice


in sentient life
two hands clap


You stand
where the sky
kisses the earth


An aquifer
flows through the rift
seeping life