Lighten Up

Lighten Up

Your stare locked me in, stamped an imprint,

Right where there was dark and now you blink;

Flick the light, or, could it ignite?

I’m following the contours of your eyes as they bow,

mimicking your smile,

There it is, a pearl of redemption squeezed out of the corner

and into dust.

I never thought to see love past lust, but there, as a beacon,

Vibrant, electric, reconnected, back on the grid.

Keep the passion turned on, life can fuse-out as fragile as a candle on the altar.

And you, worthy of so much more than a late-life flicker.

It’s on ice, nice, live twice.

Morning Light


Morning light
Crows shimmer east to the high solstice, flapping out of the green up into the bright,
Soaring up, up into the light and beside the hedgerow, dance purple poppies
Stretching, searching, sucking light down sun-yellow connectors, hard-wired
to cable green stems earthed to ground.
Bindweed creeps and crawls entwining its very being into the tapestry, innocent white, smiling at the light strangling across borders like the shadow of the Khan dynasty conquering new lands.
Mother slowly uncurls her bended buckled frame, white light tangles with her silver hair and bounces off her gaunt paste-pale, pigeon grey.
She breathes the light of day in shallow puffs, and stares into the light but not enlightened.
The wait is long for the fading light, the comfort blanket sits beneath darkness,
A cwtch with the holy trinity brings the light which can’t be scratched like an irritation,
Her mind runs deeper into the distance, skipping over the setting sun,
Decades jostle jovially, nudging laughter out as a hollow bout of coughs between her ribs,
Playing boxsets before her light is snuffed and in darkness,
turns a kaleidoscope of memories where light burns eternal
But first, she must swallow the enlightenment which is stuck in her throat like a mocking Roman thorn.

The Good and The Gate

Heads in the gathering grazed aloud, bobbed and tossed like corks corralled in the rip-tide current,

Chewing baffled the chatter, sketched into morsels of memory, animated by the gesticulating tentacles on the palm, adding prisms of colour to exhaled prose.

Palates framed with painted smiles etched creases of heads back in laughter,

Aubergine Teriyaki silver- scooped to  lips, glistening with wisdom, hungry for life,

Stole centre stage as rich almond eyes gazed  soft mellow back notes  thru’ shimmering flame.

I felt compelled to stare at her caramelised glint, hypnotic sparkles between the blink of sombrero eyelashes.

Looking in from my tableside seat,  I was shouting down the main act, Roast Heritage Tart which pirouetted down the hatch, followed by the whole ensemble, no encore in sight.

We chomped and chewed through legacies of life’s rich tapestries, silenced only by the Banoffee,
Served with two duelling spoons laid head to head for the final drool, jostling from pie to coulis, back to pie and in slow motion, disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The finale soothed by minted tea brought diners back into view,
Raising our spirits to make our leave, we left the canvas blank,
Each to colour their own heart.

Beneath surface deep

Starting from scratch,
etched thoughts spliced his mind,
memory, a mangled mosaic of time,
heart stabbed by love-stained stake,
life chiselled into memory stone
moss and myrtle for his thorny crown.