Long Towpath Poems

I

Ah what thrill’s life if guts we’ve to get lost!
To lose way once in a while is no sour sauce—
But way to live. Lose way haply pay cost,
A stone that goes about gathers good moss.
Let...

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November's winter sun is bleeding low 
where cold Thames makes a tidal run 
and also gentler pewter flow 
towards the city docks, the sea, 
towards the rising of the sun
 
A single coot beside a...

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With trembling fingers I’d opened the bloodstained envelope
But I shouldn’t have been surprised at the state of the paper …
you work as a butcher

Your message was short -
Meet me at the footbridge at midnight
I’ll bring...

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In this time , this town, you'd grow
In this town, this time, you'll feel at home
your poor plenty more than rich enough
to crack the faultline,
your cup half full, half overflowing.

You stretch your legs and wings...

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If the poems comes from my pen every day,
May be it's a garden given by God. 
Don't be jealous!
Nobody can enter this garden without allow,
Who do not understand the value of words!

Someone comes to take...

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There’s an old canal close by where I live,
and an empty lock made of stones massive,
traipsing around there, the place can amaze
just seeing how the whole of it was made.
There’s no mortar here, between these...

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To honor Harry memory
    a much loved and respected poet
    He could cast a spell with his clear verse
    identifying himself with any sonnet
  ...

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My Landscape Painting

Let me describe my painting,
Of a pastel colour landscape,
A Beautiful British Waterway,
Forming our scene and shape.

Walking by the water’s edge,
Following the towpath trail,
Pace of life serene and slow,
Barges powered, ready to sail. 
...

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"Has solitude ever led your steps down a forest path . . . "
                     ...

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Hopped a rattler out of Akron.
Rode the high end all the way.
On the Erie-Lackawanna,
Made North Jersey by next day.
Between a bottle and a biscuit,
And that’s all I’m gonna say.

‘Twas a rude accommodation.
No Angelina on my...

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theres a little story in these isolation times the instruction is you can go out once excersive, so i went up the canal church minshull by the marina, no one about so a great spot...

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An Ash tree tumbled down last winter,
it is only a wooden effigy now,
branched still,
limbs askew,
leftover as a lingering image
of one hour of violence.

It was a head-storm, it got into
the marrow of things,
wolf-winds tore at its...

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I peer into your depth bypass my reflection
  See an image of another day out of time,
  Mingled with spirit calling for one’s affection
  Lurid evidence still of industrial grime.

 Yet this...

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A collaboration with Mandy Tams

I peer into your depth bypass my reflection
See an image of another day out of time,
Mingled with spirit calling for one’s affection
Lurid; evidence still of industrial grime.

Yet this fertile inspiration moved...

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