Long Millpond Poems

in the moorland
amidst the scores of heather
soft touches of amber silents
fall from heaven's light

within the gossamer breeze
daylight violets sway
drawing memories out
in a thought by chance
we come together
as a petal's fold
sipping thoughts
like morning dew
where there is...

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I stroll leisurely along the avenue 
as silent trees stand sentinel.	
Not one leaf rustles or whispers; 
no branch breathes or even sighs.
No gust catches me off guard 
at the top of the hill so that...

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I stroll leisurely along the avenue as silent trees stand sentinel.	
Not one leaf rustles or whispers; 
no branch breathes or even sighs.
No gust catches me off guard at the top of the hill 
so that...

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Horrible smash of broken bottles,
Blood gush from young touts' bodies,
Nauseating odour of marijuana, grass, 
Spoiled that Monday evening.

I witnessed it,
A deadly fracas erupted,
Between two rival teenage cultists,
At Asarailu's son naming ceremony.

Asarailu cult group had launched,
A...

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‘Old Spice’ and wet grass carry years 
of understanding between us.
What I wear and you gather into you,
become a language neither of us know,
but comprehend in mouse-tracks of deduction.
 
You read grease and engine oil,...

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Was a calm and uneventful day on  a family holiday  
what can we do next, how about taking that boat out to sea

We begged some sandwiches cans of coke to drink
Borrowing a fishing...

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Torn sail blowing in a gale
sand beautifully shifting, dunes flowing 
spray from the edge of a wave
moments camera frozen, seen
snapshots of the mind
memories only you can find

Long-lasting bulls eye ripples grow on the millpond surface...

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I remember the painting, with a heavy heart....I
remember my best friend Valerie, how we sat and talked.
which was beating the most my heart or the sun
as in the shade of my red parasol
memories of my...

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Beside the millpond, musing,
Of another day and time—
At times my mind confusing 
Both reality, and rhyme.

It is an easy thing to do, you see,
With the buckets timely turn—
What is this thing called poetry,
What from it...

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Errant hounds capriciously bustle in an exceptional position near some forsaken backwatered millpond during some quietude noontime dismal conclusion concerning the game,

Per some dense overgrowth forward furnishes an exquisite refuge over the stalked moreover the...

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The millwheel will not turn again till spring
for Winter’s icy cold grip holds it firm.
She squeezes it like Her private plaything,
though Her crushing power is but short-term.

As shorter days subtly lengthened; the sun
slowly began to...

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On glorious, golden millpond we sit and speak no words
  The evensong is calling it beckons in the night, as wings take flight
  Silhouetted dancers forming on the water, causing softened ripples
 ...

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Manassian Quintain

As we stroll through the river of life
As it meanders  on it's way
Crossing the pebble stones of strife
Watching the flow and ebb each day
Life like a knife cutting the rotten parts away

Life like...

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over by the millpond
atop the banks of leaden loam
a patch of flowers sparsely grow
ivory petals open wide
as they sip the morning dew
then dance within the quiver
of august's cooler winds
dropping petals
on the ground

i sit beneath the...

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The dawn sky throws a spear of vivid red
lancing the fir treetops, but not yet me
with my bag of bread.
The wheel is still asleep, the water still,
seems today we all have time to kill.
Scan the...

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Old Spice’ and wet grass carry years
of understanding between us.

If I break wind, you run to me,
body rapt and heeding,
every hair translating
a smudged paragraph into
volumes of memory.

Rubbernecking my attention
with a fixed gaze,
you are staring at...

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