Summertime in the tropics
my favorite season of the year
no more school, no more chores
just temperatures knocking ninety degrees
sun rays and liquid sunshine
riding the pores of my skin
splashed in Coppertone oil
and a cone of coconut ice cream
melting my gums
while sitting on a dry towel
on a tropical beach whose currents
are shouting out my name in thin air
picking up a twig to draw my name
on the coral encrusted sand dunes
Dawn, a bed comes ashore,
dripping and fog laden.
Tuna sandwiches float
on foaming waves of nausea,
aqueous globs of salty oils,
surface. Punctured sea-dreams
float; flabby and flatulent.
The day paddles around aimlessly,
tides, rather than wait,
slosh about spongy ankles.
A rubber flipper mislaid
off the Normandy coast,
slipstreams through time,
one lost sand-encrusted flip-flop
bobs on by.
May have to snorkel longer
if there is any hope of seeing
the sun sink.
Eventually aquatic ghosts
depart for a younger past.
Back on the swaying deck
of a queasy reality
a fresh wind dries sheets.
Footprints in the sand
are spied through a fisheye lens.
A shipwrecked yesterday
is waving,
glad to be finally rescued.
Concrete dust drifts like sand across a coastal path.
An old woman battered with facial features that hung on her face,
Disconnected and hanging.
She leans forward in her blumonge, waterproof, unwashed nylon flares from Matalan.
They ruffle in the wind as she looks out withdrawn onto the A350.
Her gaze is muffled by a sheen of intoxication,
She tries with the majority of her self to keep her lids from closing,
Mascara encrusted into the creases of her skin,
Almost soldering her lashes together in a gluelike fashion.
Leans hazardously towards the path of oncoming traffic,
Gesturing with open arms to the creatures of metal that push past her.
The only trace of their moment in time is a gust that pushes her body back to safety as it, Confused and unobservant,
Collapses onto the urban stream that claims her yet again.
I watch as she continues to stumble on,
Reaching out to every vehicle that steams on past,
She does not see me.
She is clogged by something greater and more sombre than I know.
She is a perfect reflection of the time and place,
She is what we all are feeling but continue not to show in fear of the outcome.
She is us.
Winter Withers
…… its way into the woods
and waits….and wonders….and watches
until…. No-one is looking.
Boorishly, an ally introduces itself,
an iced-sliced wind to quiver-shiver
the woods’ most tender saplings;
to shudder the aged evergreens
with sharpened, encrusted crystals
sandpapering the toughest, roughest bark.
Weather warning complete,
Winter then crunches forward,
cold shouldering its way through the night
to finally rest against a solitary cabin.
Inside that logged shelter, Man awakens
allowing his thoughts freedom
from the waiting room of his mind.
Man has learned how to listen,
but much more importantly,
this man has listened how to learn!
What he now sharply tells himself is…
Winter has arrived; survival demands action.
Man has lived for a year with Mother Nature
after his severance with city life;
he now feels a yearning for the three R’s:
reconnecting, refiguring and relocating.
Man can’t allow Winter’s weathered wings
to embrace him with glacial isolation
nor allow its benumbed playmate… Loneliness
to knock, again, on that fragile, front door.
Ian Souter
I reminisce about the sunshine days,
I listen to soul-lifting music,
Absorbing the melody and its message.
I remember my mother singing spiritual songs.
I talk with my siblings on the phone,
Recalling our memories,
Discussing the present,
And anticipating a bright tomorrow.
I sing under the vast sky,
Unbound and unrestrained,
In the tranquillity of nature,
As tears of joy and reflection flow.
I rise before daylight as inspiration knocks at the door,
Heeding its call,
I walk through a blooming meadow,
Emerging from the encrusted shadow.
June 28, 2025.
Spring brought forth the dusting of grandeur
The blossom exploding from baring bud,
Showering lawns with lilac dander.
A benediction bound in nature’s love.
Branches laden, heavy with flowers
Sweet adulation in perfumed repose,
Beauty distinct fragrant overpowers
Consuming the senses is manic throes.
Then it fruits, its summery shift
To languish berries bright bursting red
For us to pick as the seasonal gift
Before the tree starts to Autumnal shed.
Start again your sleep encrusted with snow
Until the awakening when winter goes.
Momma must be able to read my mind.
I was only glaring at the girl from behind.
Momma said, " Whatever you do,
Say something nice.
I don't want to tell you twice!"
Stretching high on my toes,
I took a deep breath.
I mumbled about.
What came out was, "My what nice shoes you have."
Momma gave me a strange look.
Stumbling along I continued to say,
" Your toes fit so nicely, were the shoes made that way?"
I must admit I struggled that day.
Saying something nice is harder when you try.
Particularly to meet Mommas expectations,
And she gives you the evil eye.
Turns out there were no shoes,
Just feet encrusted with dirt.
No money for shoes.
It worked out that day,
The girl turned around and explained she wove flax and created shoes.
She became my best friend,
And is to this day!
The flax shoes stayed on her feet.
Having any coverings,
Was quite a treat.
Spring,
has come.
flowers nod.
daffodils dance,
gold painted trumpets,
encrusted promises.
what excited joy they bring.
sun’s bright rays kiss the sunflowers.
at night, twinkling stars' peek out from sky.
firmament, looks like a gem studded veil.
daffodils, announce the first signs of spring.
sweet fragrant smell of flowers invite,
bees and butterflies in large hordes.
life is blooming in bright shades.
large water droplets fall
leaving running streams
they wash away,
all my cares.
pure bliss.
joy.
wild roses blooming
in snow-encrusted meadow ~
early sign of spring
A PORTAL TO HELL
I was leery as I approached that gate
Rusted iron, painted over with black
Behind it I saw a jewel encrusted sky
Yet if a portal to Hell, did I just die
But I heard someone mutter nearby
A low voice warned me to stay back
I just saw a shadow, and so I’ll wait
Conquistador your stallion is unbridled longing for
the company of an angel's touch to brow
I see your breast plate armor has lost its sheen
but in your face I see the sign of cuts real clean
Conquistador, did you find what you were looking for
Conquistador, a vulture sits upon your silver shield
and though I searched for you inside a maze
I found no door ,no inner room
you were ready far too soon
Conquistador, did you find what you were looking for
Conquistador, there is no time like now so
raise your rust scabbard and take a newborn stand
I know your jewel-encrusted blade cannot lay still
always ready for the action always ready for the ****
Conquistador, did you find what you were looking for
Conquistador, I came to jeer at you, with no regrets
and as the gloom begins to fall I see there is no, only all
I know you came with sword held high
although you came to conquer, do you want to die?
Conquistador, did you find what you were looking for
Leaping with joy into a tall pile of soft, fluffy snow,
He snorted and panted, and flashed a broad smile,
Surprised and delighted with the bone chilling cold,
That couldn’t penetrate his thick, curly coat.
He lay for a moment, catching his breath,
As if trying to decide what to do next.
Rolling onto his back, long legs flailing the air,
He twisted happily, enjoying the chilly freedom there.
Then backwards he fell, rolling in gravity defying angles.
Leaving the white ground covered with glistening snow angels.
Finally exhausted from his frolicking antics,
He came to me happily with his body in wiggles.
Lifting his snow encrusted paws into my warm hands,
His beautiful brown eyes asked,
“What is this wonderful stuff? What is its name?”
I said, “Darling, this is snow, the treat of the season.
Enjoy it now, as much as you can.
In just a few hours it will soon fade away,
Melting your snow angels and returning grass again.”
Tantalizing season steps in humming
Delightful songs - soar cerise, tangerine,
Crimson, red leaves - floating, fluttering
Swooshing, spreading light…. Stardust
Sprinkled from the misty clouds above,
Shimmers dazzling on each petal, flowers
Of the magical season sprawled create
Tapestry of colours !
Autumn weaves dreams glimmering streaks
Of light, murmuring whispers of joy,
Decoupage of ravishing colours leaves
The footprints of a glorious landscape,
melting colours bewitch human soul!
Seductive
Sparkling
Sprawling
Sublime
Flowers of Season!
Encrusted by Stardust!
Wry puppet princess just cut her strings;
Why comply and then be held captive?
Damselfly on her free wrist whispers
‘Defy and let go of what’s submissive.’
Purge this Little Miss Marionette,
surge solo and secure the spotlight;
Splurge on a diamond encrusted crown,
emerge ready to claim your birthright.
The mansion
now sits empty;
in its halls
and rooms
memories of her
echoing
like dust-encrusted
gems of time.
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