'Garden Pond'

The garden ponds

glassy, cool waters

that go

'Blip, blip',

as soil shelled pebbles tumble

from children’s

worm wriggling fingers,

into its shipwreck green basin.

The garden ponds

glassy, cool waters

that go

'Dip, dip',

when warm earth spills

with the tilting

of a plastic spade,

into its shipwreck green basin.

the garden ponds

glassy, cool waters

that go

'Pip, pip',

as tadpoles weave

gossamer trails of

 silver ripples,

into its shipwreck green basin.

The garden ponds

glassy, cool waters

that are

silent now,

as my stare sits

upon the surface
of an adult face,
reflected in its shipwrecked green basin

Haiku

Haiku is a poetic form and a type of poetry from the Japanese culture. Haiku combines form, content, and language in a meaningful, yet compact form. The most common form for Haiku is three short lines. The first line usually contains 5 syllables, the second line 7 syllables, and the third line contains 5 syllables. Haiku doesn't rhyme. A Haiku must paint a mental image in the reader's mind. This is the challenge of Haiku- to put the poem's meaning and imagery in the reader's mind in only 17 syllables.

I- Alas it was she

who came to a bitter end

running with scissors

II- Yesterdays clown found

casually smoking still

beneath the rubble

III- Blackened effigy

discarded in wilderness,

wearing my likeness

IV- Multiple pitchers

undoubtedly ensure

merriment ensues

V- “I beg thee requite”

withering words kiss darkness

still unrequited

VI- Listless whisperer

humble reminder for all

words fall forsaken

VII- Here lies friendship quenched

gravely he’d left him for dead

bullet smouldering

VIII- Poured molten metal

down deeply hollowed caverns

cue echoing shrieks

IX- Blazing inferno

how greedy you are indeed

feasting ceaselessly

X- Fluorescent lab lamp

speckled eggshell light splinters

prehistoric life

XI- Yes, enough tears spent

to bittersweetly season
sorrows briny broth

XII- Taste a foreign land

sensing oriental fumes

china in your hand

'Gold Gilded Nocturne'

Honey tresses these

strands of gold radiating in

streams and curtains,

framing the parapet of your favour.

Silhouetted breath of

a halcyon breeze,

perfumed words shadow the dusk,

evading that shattered sunrise.

Who’s to know you?

how many words to afford you?

while you near me but elude my comprehension

as comets tumble off into nowhereness.

You want to know me, you say,

can I offer you more than conjecture?

as the consequence of your nearness

threatens the shelter of my solitude.

(Summer 2012)

'Transmission'

 “Drivers are advised to drive carefully on all roads tonight due to fears of black ice”. The warning flitted menacingly within radio waves, halting all prior meteorological conversation at the table, rendering it foolish and trivial. Each diner felt a sudden embarrassment at their incongruous neglect. That they would obliviously dwell, surgically dissecting greasy chicken joints and constructing thermodynamically sound mashed potato igloos, in the midst of such real danger. This new update however proclaimed the arrival of an incalculably sinister threat. The ice tonight would be dressed in black. Shapeless, clandestine and merciless. Tinged with bitter, cold malice. Mr. Muddle shuddered ominously and pulled his collar tighter to his neck as if to blockade against imminent attacks from the frosted renegade. As they sat in chill silence it seemed as if the enemy was near, plotting and skulking, shrouded in the foggy cloth of the dark December eve. Tonight someone would certainly fall victim to its deathly camouflage. Crumpled steel gnarled, wreckage shrieks, the frosted breath of a faceless ambulance crew. The backdrop to the rotating blue lights, searching the scene for the killer. Mrs. Muddle wondered to herself if she would know the victim. Perhaps they were on her Christmas card list. Maybe they had a child in school with Blake or administered icing sugar smiles at the cake sale in the local community centre. What would she say about the deceased if the ensuing media influx were to thrust a sleet spotted microphone into her face? Could she conjure a satisfactory summary of this individual’s entire existence in a few short sentences? She would make sure to google search a template eulogy as soon as the wash-up had been done. The Lord giveth and The Lord taketh away she muttered neurotically to no one at all, preaching to an absent congregation. 

(Winter 2010)

'Hiss'

Tilts it and it tips,

hits the mixed fluids,
hisses in the water,
connection is  

venomous,

solidifying ashes,
a toxic pebble of nicotine
pierces the viscous precipice,
sinking
compacted,
like Pompeian debris,
quickly through the
iodine tinted piss,
 hocks up phlegm
and spits,
watches as it sits,
then 
passes by the sink,
back into the stewing smog
and the slowly sweltering stink

'Seehaus im Sommer'

Decorated garden,

decked out in postcard perfection,
Bayern enshrined,

time honoured.

Beer mugs dot the tabletops,

stout glacial giants,

standing tall and proud

amongst the spotted raindrops,

mirroring the glinting lake face,

spilling irrepressible prisms.

Jugs filled with the centuries fermented,

draped upon their noble brims

dappled sunlight reflects

perspex dances of dragonflies.

All life emanates from the heart-

the perennial splendour of that chestnut tree,

and the sound of birds rolling above

pours like helles from its canopy.

(Summer 2012)