Best Norman Poems

the wealth of norman England is poised to grow
  towns enlarge, markets exchange, a fresh fertilising sprinkled culture
  kingdoms extend with numbers reducing
...

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JUNE 1944

they kissed with dreams of peace in clover - for him fulfilled in Norman field

Monoku - Cliche: All’s fair in love and war...

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The first snow of the winter,
And it's really coming down.
Large geometric flakes,
Drift slowly to the ground.

Painting trees and fences,
In garlands of dazzling white.
Making all it...

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NOTE: Please read part 1 so this makes more sense

As soon as her words enter my brain I feel the force of a million gees...

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Stars fall under failing skies...stars fall...stars fall...
And sadly...i start to drive.
Through the unremarkable village with its tall 
Georgian Bay window panes, lightless,
devoid of visages; outwardly...

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Feeling the youth
And vigor in my heart
In a fog of my conscious mind
Fluffy white clouds and blue sky
Green emerald tall grass
I love and dance around

Reflection...

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"Barefoot in the Bushfires of the Vanities"



Heat rises slowly to rapture flames licking and teasing
Blue Ghostgums to stretch and crack wide open
as Fire spreads molten...

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across the Doggerland dogged people trudge
  Neanderthals, Heidelbergers...Sapiens, the last ones standing
  hairy mammoths, heavy life bearing down
  the mighty maw of...

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“Ten Years, Somewhere in their Lost Neighbourhood”

Of course,
he said, like a god,
there is no course,
one must simply go with the flow
the penumbra stands waivering its...

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Once his brown alpargata shoes trod countless miles,
imagination burst from his vivid, traveler's eyes...
He traversed valleys leading to azure mountains,
and heard a chant sung with...

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Last night I dreamt you saw me
Really saw me for the first time
Not who you thought I should be
But the real me

I danced in front...

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SUNDAY BEST or A Soldier’s Coup of Grace

Was always smartest one in his brigade
A pride in his appearance was consistent
Though beach at Dunkirk was no...

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“There is no death! What seems so is transition;
this life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian,
whose portal we call Death.”
...

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Scratchy, scratchy, what's that sound,
Atop my home space, high and round?
Could there be one self-served mouse,
Schemed to steal my sweet, dry house?

No, those sounds don't...

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born under the sea, an irresistible force
  two bodies reluctantly embrace, shunting, shifting, tectonic drifting
  alongside the southern Iapetus Ocean
  equatorial deep-time...

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