Best Sweeping Poems

The old man sat with eyes closed, dozing in his chair
Until a little voice he heard say “Grandpa, are you there”.

He gazed upon a little...

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to my kindred soul
...i know you are out there
somewhere on the other side
across cobblestone streets
that scorn my feet, like hearts
on the pathways and wrong turns
of...

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“Air becomes wind when it’s agitated.” Lucretius

“Thank you for joining me in the studio today,” Mr. Zephyr. 
“Glad to be here, Bob. Thank you for...

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'Neath umbra skies I seek a mirrored moment

the breeze a capricious charmer
blows serpentine sways to life
a ballet of tall switchgrass dancers
sweeping edges raspy green
dulling in...

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The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
     ...

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The year has finally yawned and turned       
Upon a half-revealed shoulder.
A vibrancy, intrinsic to a reemerging 
Enforcement of the...

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oh precious, dulcet diva, ocean-tide
you, of sand and foam and spindrift -
all your moods and meanderings
speak deep my spirit, wistful and wan
musings captured, gist enraptured...

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Travel light, my dear; softly go
beyond the night’s each black shadow
to another plane. Out of sight
exists a realm of such delight
you may find relief from...

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Oh! How like you, I long to be a singing lark
Who in the blue firmament like a tiny speck
Remains invisible, drowning the air in music...

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-rearranging the stars-

How could we agree to separation? 
If you were destined to be my soulmate,
Why would we allow the stars to change our fate?
They've...

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Written for the Avebury Gorsedd, 24th September 2016  
I wish you well...

I’m here, again…
Come riding in, upon the western wave
My hair all wove with...

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Springing free from glistening 
Fronds
The summers heat leaps for 
Height;
Whilst drifting obscurely far
Above 
A distant lark now hangs in 
Flight.

Floats down his sweet trill,
Accompanied by...

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If ever a moment in real life deserved a romantic, melancholy
backing track, it would have been that one ... we'd spent the
entire afternoon at Ferry...

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               A coloratura rises 
      ...

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“Wicked Web of Woes” 

Is there a reason
to rhyme when 
lifeless fingers
breathe toxic agony,
whilst disgraced 
quill suffocates
from wildering 
riddles swerving to
the stillness 
of calcified air?...

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