Proximity |
Proximity a gauzy imageglimpsed beneath a tissue guard,one finger moistened, hesitating a shadow on a curtainwhile the night air, vast and cold as cave air, wraps you the second between dream and wak...
Posted by on Thu, 25 Jun 2009 12:19:00 GMT |
a poem for anyone who believes that buildings have a soul... |
The Lodge, Llandaff
She does not hold her breath:
the song of an evening blackbird breezes in -
a suspended helix unravelling emperor colours in the warm gloom;
leaves drift down chimneys and s...
Posted by on Sat, 17 May 2008 10:15:00 GMT |
new poem - red |
red
eye shock
bright petals roadside,
a secret borne from vivid lipstick
tail-lights in the rush of night air
a single pelargonium against a livid sky
it is that kiss
it is those crescents in...
Posted by on Sun, 04 May 2008 12:20:00 GMT |
Night Call |
Night Call
Sometimes they are folded in upon themselves.
An edge must be found and eased up to reveal, perhaps,
caverns of technicolor fish pausing in fingers of sunlight
or oscillating larvae
with de...
Posted by on Wed, 03 Oct 2007 13:14:00 GMT |
Coypu |
Coypu
Startled, they flounce into the lake
head south
whiskery and intent on the far shore.
In their wake, perch arc from the surface
red-mouthed and staring.
Sun, glancing off scales, illuminates be...
Posted by on Fri, 13 Jul 2007 01:49:00 GMT |
Les Nymphes Aurore - revenge 'frog-style'! |
Les Nymphes Aurore
We have surrounded the house of the French chef.
He is inside
skinning tarragon leaves from their stems
boiling vinegar
crushing peppercorns
grinding sea salt
dipping and licking h...
Posted by on Thu, 14 Jun 2007 02:58:00 GMT |
Margaret |
Margaret
Your garden thrives in neglect.
The peony has never looked so good, so
vibrant;
her blooms loll like woozy ladies on a lawn,
brilliant with lipstick and scandal.
Finches s...
Posted by on Fri, 08 Jun 2007 21:47:00 GMT |
Isabel's Child |
Isabel's Child
I should not have been left there,
tiny fingers exploring the air
like some sea creature amazed by an invading tide:
its brilliant cold enormity.
My eyes, blue milk, made out little...
Posted by on Fri, 25 May 2007 11:06:00 GMT |
Poem about famous thoroughbred St.Simon who died in 1908 but is still not laid to rest... |
&n...
Posted by on Fri, 25 May 2007 05:49:00 GMT |
Jennie |
Last breath...
Drawing the field-edge to a knot
scanning windward sweeps of scrub
eyegold splashed from ferric pools
she is the buffeted grass,
a startled crow,
a sudden curl of smoke tearing the lun...
Posted by on Fri, 18 May 2007 20:26:00 GMT |
