by the campus lake

A quick simple ditty
Can capture the world
In a moment so pretty
Like petals unfurled
And all o those epics
That came long afore
And dither like sceptics
Til the moments no more
Quick look now and see
As the words drift away
Let the moment take thee
On this wonderous day
By the lake there’s a drake
There a crow swoopin low
And the sunny sun sun
And the trees in the breeze
Laps those fine little hairs
like grass and perhaps
No one else much cares
just run o the mill
But still I stare and
wonder what will
happen next?

***

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the undead Romantic

I lumbered lonely as a corpse

twixt desert halls and shopping malls

when all at once some blood-filled source

sent forth a screeching, desperate call!

its echo dances all about

like dreams of innards falling out

 

enraptured by a world renewed

of eternal screams and crimson streams

from baser beasts I now eschewed

and sought that human meat supreme!

so beneath the stars I made my way

‘mongst visions bountiful with prey

***

Stray not away (go astray)

stray not away we are told as a child

stray not away we are told with a smile

stray not away from invisible lines

stray not away from within the confines

conform, stay in line, do as told

stray not away and withhold

all impudences of spirit

some always do as they say

stray not away ’til they’re dull and grey

burnished by stone-carved beliefs

but relief is coming running with cunning ferocity

history is imploding, corroding

making room for a new awakening

so clamber out of that chasm of conformity

and rise up into the rhythms of rhapsody!

stray not away we were told all the while

stray not away we were told with a smile

now comes the day when like poets we stray

and wander the hills with a smile everyday

adrift on the sea, all alone, castaway

and so stray away, go astray I say!

cast away the mind and find

that rhythmic rhapsody inside

and wander under Monet’s pastel skies

or sail to Gauguin’s tropic paradise

or follow the fleet footsteps of Hemingway

or sit and sway beside the old man who plays guitar

under the blue moon with shining eyes far away

serenading “the things as they are”

gleefully crooning and festooning the night and the stars

with beauteous lunar tunes

or drift o’er the swirling Venetian lagoons

but stray not away from that lyric tranquility

stray not away from that toxic tactility

for to stray is to waylay

that wonderous world of mutability

into which one could stray

and go astray for a fleeting infinity

stray away go astray I say

stray away into the patterns of poetry

and soon the patterns of poetry

will stray into thee!

***

“to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting” – E. E. Cummings

the train journey

meanwhile a sweet smile dimples

the cheek of a girl who with each mile

seems to blossom and bloom on a

train chuck-a-chucking its way through the rain

in the mountainous green as the scenes

whizzing by in a blur but its her and its there

where his eyes can’t defer from a gaze

lost in the leaves of a book just a look

would capsize and amaze what a schmuck

so adrift in the haze of a reverie and every

whimsical word and world which unfurls

in the smoking whirls of wondering thought

buckle at the scene now before my eyes

crimson skies tempestuous seas and a shroud

of clouds opening in rapturous surrender

remember when the waves broke apart

then with a start I awoke glance away

and seek out a shared sense of awe

but find only dismay for she was still adrift

in the uplifting pages of a cheap tenapenny romance

and he still agape and entranced by her blank painted smile

and then the train plunged into the dark heart of the mountain

***

 

featured image is Turner’s ‘rain, steam and speed’

some Kerouac haikus of random childhood memories

wide-eyed child

awed at his sketches

and gentle guitar ditties

*

a pipe smells homely

pop inhale pop inhale

hazy calm surrounds

*

wade into a lake

where the rotten pike waits…

water gushes into wellingtons

*

An avalanche of Westies

the first thing they saw-

our beaming faces

*

sunsets & rockpool hops

wandering Welsh beaches

a bottlenose greets us!

*

cave mouths by seashore

return our whoops and wails

through the rasping waves

*

looking through loopholes,

of lofty castle remnants

time here afolly

*

He’s laughing, dancing

through bleached corridors

in a hospital gown!

*

alone skimming stones

bobs, bobs, bobs, away

under soft lilac sky

*

nb. featured image – John Constable ‘cloud study at sunset’

i am but what you think of me

i am but what you think of me

and nothing more unthinkingly

an inkling and credulity

you know as well as i

that eyes befalling from outside

see everything we try to hide

like sharks trapped in formaldehyde

but all of its a sham

for i know not you, you not i

just brushstrokes in a painted sky

just a collection of notes in a book or melody

that form a song

and who knows what i sound like to you?

the pursuit

Let us go then, let us flee
Hand in hand for destiny
Shadows dancing, cobbled straits
We run, or surely death awaits
your face by moonlight soft as snow
Carved by Michelangelo
Frantic footsteps close behind
Echoes of a troubled mind
Curtains tight like insomniac eyes
As nightmares start to crystallise
Hunter slows, now comes our chance
We share a fleeting, feather glance
Then gunshot splits open silent air
And cleaves through hearts like a knife through poetry
Falling, falling to the stones with a dull splash like toppled inkwell
Looking up from deep-sea city lights shimmering through your hair
coughs and finally I ask you whether
I can have your smile
etched upon my eyes forever…

***