Poem – The Glorious Colours of Death

The Glorious Colours of Death

Are Autumn’s Two-Edged Gift

At once Bless-ed and Bereft

As Nature’s Seasons Shift

With Winter’s Icy Kiss

Mere Weeks’ Breath Hiss Away

These Colours of such Bliss

I Celebrate this Day.



Poem: Discovering the Kingdom

In the Spring of My Life

I knew it all!

(With no awareness

Of the coming Fall)…


Then Summer came

And I began to doubt

As all Life’s contradictions

Confronted and

Came out…


Only in the Fall

Does it all begin to make sense;

Now I can see the boundaries

And stop sitting on the fence.


So as the Winter of my life draws near

The occluding mists of Spring and Summer have cleared,

The Autumn fog at long last departs

And I can finally see clearly in my heart.


Yes, the Kingdom is within.

Poetic Purbeck



A plague of cyclists

Across the Purbeck

Riding side-by-side,

The road they hide,

And hog with pride!

On Knoll Beach

[No cyclists]

The Sun brings out

The blossoming of humanity –

Too long kept in the dark

Pale eyes blink in the light

But the Beach Huts remain

Gagged and Bound

In case March turns capricious

In case March turns to snow

In case March brings the ice

That would not be nice, you know.

A lone kite


Dances even

By itself

Bound only by a string

And the whim of its Guardian

And all the while

Inch by inch

The Tide’s caress continues

To erase the resistance of

The object of her desires.

The Winter storms


Have changed the profile

Of the shore,

Yet the years

Have changed mine more.

(Where is my child-like look?)

Every variety of hound

Is accompanied by

A myriad styles of

Human kind.

Each have their own place

Each have their own pace

Danding to the beats

Of different drummers.

The older beachcombers

Seem happy to Waltz along



With memories.

Whilst more than one

Reluctant parent

Raises an irate tone

Or remains glued to

Their parasitic phone

And irritated

Picks up the pace

Towards March.

Never mind the children.


But me?

I love

Above all

The simple joys…

Each dog’s frugal pleasure

Of stick or stone

To fetch and treasure;

The child’s delight

Of Castled Sand –

Seems only right

To clap my hands!

Where dog and child gladly share

A blissful paddle

Free from care.

Poem: The Blackbird Sings

The Blackbird sings
As if in the know
There approaches promised new life
Beyond rain, wind and snow.

The bird cannot see
The forthcoming Spring
But it is sure of its hope
Thus its praise-song doth ring.

Even aerials are placed
For such birds to rest on
To receive fresh Word from God
Which they express in their song.

And here is the truth
That few humans grasp:
That’s it’s only the birdsong
That brings Spring’s birth at last.

For Christmas…

I know what I want for Christmas

I’ve chosen my gift:


No need to wrap it.

Give it to me straight.

Lie to me

If it works

For me.

Just tell me

I Am Great.

Just tell me

My Art is Good.

Tell me again

I Am Gorgeous.

“Truth” is for gods

And for High Court Judges with a conscience.

I’ve chose my present for you

All ready…


There, I’ve spoiled the surprise

But He did say,

“Do unto others…”

[And you can save your “feedback” for the devil

– who has no place at my Christmas banquet of love.]