In The Winter

On the whole the man in Philadelphia
Is much better off than dead;
But I couldn't stay in places such
As sunstroked and so dry
I'll just remain in England's bed
Soaking up the winter rays
Of moonlight and the snow
Because I understand the reason
Why the summer had to go.
The winter brings another beauty
The mist rests on the land
And schoolgirls on their way home
Huddle close and hide their hands;
With scarves up to their teeth
In case the impish breezes dare
To infiltrate the moment more
Than waking up their hair.
So as I walk past heavy skies
An atmosphere of morning red
Cares to greet me in my footsteps
Causing lift of eyes
On high, because of what the clouds intend;
And favourite trees become some fellow travellers
As, showering with leaves
They show appreciation
When the canticle is raised;
And somewhere in the moment
There's that beauty, once again
Reminding me of everything
That helps me dream, oblivious
To what my watch would tell me
If I cared to give it time.
So, is the hope of Philadelphia
As attractive in this vain
When moment after moment
Brings me more in love
With seasons, called by name?
I doubt I'll ever leave this bed
Under moonlight and the snow
I'll lie here looking forward
To when summer has to go.

Look

Just a glimpse - a thoughtful look
From such a person
Such as this;
A story told - a blink of eye
Conveyed so simply, but a kiss.
And darkened hair,
A friendliness
A shininess
A glow;
Now watch, now wait
And soon decide
The someone that you know;
The someone, not the anyone
The only one, the sense
The inexplicability
Of knowledge in nonsense.
Now sit and wait
Across the way
Across the table - glimpse across;
Catch the eye, then look away
Pretend you never hoped.
So hope and pray
That she will stay
So you can look at her;
Now ask yourself
Or ask your own
Just what she thinks of you.

Appears in "Word Of Mouth", published by Poetry Today, 1996.
Appears in "Timeless Moments", published by Anchor Books, 1997.

Sin

My life is always crawling
With the maybes and the won'ts
And I seem to be ignoring
All exorted cries of 'Don't'
But I still step back to Jesus
When I've stepped down from the boat
That floats me away -
It's called sin.

Sometimes my life's disaster
'Cause of promises not kept
And it's going much, much faster
Than I hoped, the day I slept;
But I still make time for Jesus
When I'm feeling so inept
When guilt strikes me
As I sin.

Sometimes I feel like crying
When the world has let me down
And I'm afraid of dying
But it's due to come around;
When I die, I'll speak to Jesus
'Hallelujah!' in my mouth;
He will forgive me
For my sin.

Appears in "The 1996 Christian Poetry Companion", published by Triumph House, 1996.

Light

The light relates to your face
In almost splendid reflecting hope
Where the dark set eyes lie
Waiting for an event;
But not gratified by the moment.
The smooth soft white encapsulation
Holds the thoughts
Within the mind to die for.
The long black fibres atop
Complement the hue of eye
And tone of lip.
The moonlight is what I want
To see, capturing this ensemble
In its beam;
'Delaying speech till such a time, when
Two towers stand alone
Yet connected palpably;
And by soul.
As this light dies
To be replaced by yet greater;
Profiles give the perfect outlook
But not showing
The real light beneath
The light which shines on all
Who hear it -
The voice of the mind to die for
And the dark set eyes the window -
Medium for this beam.

Appears in "South West 1996 Anthology", published by Poetry Now, 1996.

Corridor

If you stand in the corridor
You can hear the whole world:
Some are crying
Some are dead
Some have strangers make their bed
Some would rather die than wed;
The corridor is widening.

The narrow passage made of stone
Not cross-section of life;
Where the rich and poor don't mix
Where the young and old stay alone.

I've got youth on my side.
Take your mind
From underneath your hat
And place it on the table
To be looked at.

The oldest man
Is old, but dying
The youngest child
Is young, yet crying;
Those in the middle
Start their sighing
At the rain, again
There is more to life than this;
Music's death
Not hit, but miss;
And love is the single word
That is never to be heard
Again.

Appears in "Inspirations From The South West", published by Anchor Books, 1996.

Colour Of The King

And orange threads about my person
Don't know where they came from;
Maybe the setting sun
Was unravelling at last...

But not so fast, because of grass
The green stain on my leg
Reminds me of a better day
When I could sit and rest...

But now the test, the red of wine
Shows the whole world how I dine
When it displays there on my shirt;
I will change it come tomorrow...

Now, I show my sorrow, dressed in blue
The Robert Johnson look for some;
But for me, I cannot hum
What I feel it's wrong to sing...

And here's another thing: yesterday...

The orbited star of ours was a deeper shade
But now yellow, in the capture of the bees
Honey-coated, so to please the eyes
Of many watchers, but not mine...

And yet in time, I may love this hue
This paletted moment, made to sweeten
Everything but purple clothes
Because how can such royalty be sweeter?

Lullaby For The Restless

Put your head on the pillow
Close your eyes, close your mind;
Put your head on the pillow
Don't you worry, you will find
That you're warm, you are safe
No more troubles till you wake;
And nobody can harm you
'Cause nobody could try
If your head is on the pillow
And your sheets are shoulder high.

Go to sleep little one
Rest your heart;
Tomorrow is another day
And fresh will be your start.

Put your head on the pillow
Give your weary eyes some rest
Put your head on the pillow
Put your worries to the test -
Can they last while you sleep?
Put your thoughts to counting sheep;
No Bogieman can touch you
Dream of something nice
When your head is on the pillow
And your sheets are shoulder high.

Go to sleep little one
Rest your heart.

Who will sing your song?

The time is here
To think about
What you're doing wrong
What you're doing right
And who will sing your song.
Who will give you words of love?
Who will play the tune to please?
Who will lift you up and care
When you are on your knees?

I am here
I'd talk to you
I'd give you everything;
And if you really want me to
I will start to sing:
I will give you words of love
I will play the tune to please
I will lift you up and care
When you are on your knees.

Let me be the one to sing
The perfect song, the perfect things;
The perfect words for perfect you
And all you'd ever want me to...

The song for you is love itself
Its beauty from within yourself;
Each word will say within each verse:
Your name is inspiration.

Oh, let me be the one to sing
The perfect song, the perfect things;
The perfect words for perfect you
And all you'd ever want me to...

Your name is inspiration.

Appears in "Lifelines", published by Poetry Today, 1997.

Just A Dream

When the sun hits your eyes
I can see why you smile
Why you love, why you lie and your dreams.
It becomes clear to me
That you're trying to see
Something else through my eyes, something clean;
Something pure, something spotless
Something whiter than white
But I tell you once more:
Just a dream.

Just a hope, just a dance
And maybe by chance
You'll find it one day, not through me.
And I'm speaking quite clearly:
Your dream will come true
But not for us both, just for you.

Just a thought, just a wish
It might come with a twist
It might happen one night all alone;
It might happen with friends
Or just while you're walking;
But maybe a call on the 'phone
Would lead you to tell me
Why you would search me
Unless you are left on your own.

Just a dream for a stranger
A dream for a friend
A life just too full for a dream;
But maybe you'll break
Up, down, sideways the same
And have just a dream to your name.

Appears in "Pandora's Box", published by Poetry Now, 1995.

Would..?

Someone left me on the floor
And crying;
Left me dying on my back
I felt a crack, on the jaw
Then suddenly on the floor
And crying.

It was me,
I left the man who weeps
I broke into his thoughts
And yet, I never felt remorse;
Just to restore
The real life I had
Before the curtains closed.

Would you hit the man
Who teaches you
So hard
And leave yourself
In the dark?

The violet light I saw
For such an unhappy perfume
Clouded past me
And displayed regret;
It broke into my thoughts
And yet,
I never felt remorse.

Would you hit the man
That fathered you
So hard
And feel yourself
Torn apart?

Appears in "The Upper Hand", published by Poetry Now, 1995.

Haiku (For Blue Gnu)

Texture of sunlight
Floating round autumn flowers
Washed by the skyline.

She was a flower...
Dancing through summer hazes
Breathed out by the clouds.

I saw her sleeping -
Captured by warm atmosphere
Rested, without fear...

I heard her weeping -
Entranced by heavy pauses
Between ev'ry tear.

Wishing I held her
I wept just as bitterly -
My dreams lost again.

Appears in "Under A Quicksilver Moon", published by www.poetry.com, 2002.
Included on the spoken word album "The Sound Of Poetry", recorded and released by www.poetry.com, 2002.