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Dads farm girl

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Slight in stature.

Flows faster than wind.

A two-tone projectile

speedily diminishing

any distance,


Works the fields

with almost

human conscientiousness.


To her

the heights

of any wall

or fence

are insignificant.


You will never see


or unwillingness

in her eyes.

Only the enjoyment

of devotion and duty

and a keen re...

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My love

of your love

you have.

My love

of your life

you have.

Your lifes


I shall have

for all

of my life.




© Stef Wilde 2014 

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In my days

as a vicar

I used to feel

the 'need'

to drop in

but not on-

as yet-

a lovely young

and lonely





had acquired

the skill

of being able

to make

her pussy



As the lips

surrounded by

long whiskers


I really believed

it was saying-

more tea Vicar?


have you read


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Forth Bridge

Theres always

so much

that needs doing.


When its all done


theres always

so much

that needs doing.





© Patricia Wilde 2014

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Godly questionnaire


the war

with lifes


is over

will there be


to enter?

Where vanquished


the old masks


outrages of time

wasted labourings

feverish deliriums.


Will they

be places

of victory

over assumed




even as dust

and shadowless

we are uncoupled

from earthly plains

our souls


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Black Cat

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Slinking through

night darkened grass



The unavoidable


of Moonlight

in her eyes.


Stops momentarily

aware of my presence

at the window.




not wanting

my eyes

to avoid

the stealing

of Moonlight.


Such thievery

is for the sake

of the darkness

in my soul.



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from the wombs

sweet pillow

she sails

yearning to hear

earths wild


silken notes


with loving sighs.


Child of light

in a waking dream




so many

unforeseen ways

to stars

to hearts

to laughter.



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A cardboard boxes

bin bags 'monster'

gathering cobwebs above

a mountainous obsession

with too many items  I love.



a dusty railed regiment of shirts

waiting for my salute

a stringless guitar,a flute without toot.


Powder puff smelling handbags

for a shoulder they yearn

old Dansette record player

on which records won't turn.


One lens...

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Dead whore walking

A worn face

dilapidated by addictions

peers out

from the confines

of a piss pooled

shop doorway.


She croaks

an offer to me

at a price I can

but won't afford.


In this cemetery

of hours,she-

looking more ghostly

than a ghost

stares at

and through me

into a distance

where no doubt

her dreams

have gone

to die.


Am I desper...

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The Byker

(William Blake-eatcha heart out!)


Byker Byker Ernie Wright

'n' Doris the florist

in fast wheel spin flight

what mere mortal hand held police device

can tame their excessive cubic capacity?


In the distance,cheap 'chinky' espies

'Ern 'n' D' in dire need of fine chips'n'pies.

What 'ot things care he to buy her

Dot....grand fayre please from chinese fryer



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Croupier of my fate

In this game

of time


have dealt me

two cards.


I have no need

to turn them over


my love

knows they

are both aces



the heart of you

I will cherish

for life


the other

the diamond

of your soul

I will worship

for all eternity.




© Patricia Wilde 2014


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Water music

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Thunderous orchestrations.

Whispering adagios.



Liquid compositions


played upon

golden grained






© Patricia Wilde 2014  

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Midnight in Shouldbepulleddown Street

Street lamps

meekly glow

in the dying hours

of this night

as it tumbles past

damp dominated

slummish terraces

and down pungently

piss reeking

alley ways.


A lonely

beer pleased staggerer

half whispering

half mouthing

wonderous promises

to no one

but his inebriated self

goes on his way

undisturbed by

yowling hissing cats

defending th...

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Forthcoming advanced inhabitant.

Built to ultimate of perfection.

Destined to exist far beyond the Suns demise.

Impenetrable to emotion.

Killer of deaths authenticity.


When all mortality

is finally exiled forever to invisiblity

and returned to being just another failed experiment

in the mind of the enigmatic creator

from which it came


then so wondrous


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Incomprehensible conversation with bush mush

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He machine guns his speech

through a facial cluster

at almost eye level growth.


I can't speak for him


but I am getting pissed off

having to say



excuse me?


I look for the opening

where his mouth should be.

If there is a row of teeth

that have come out of hiding

between what must be

the uplifted corners of his lips


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Toying with Sylvia

for you

I'm going to make a sugary present of myself

using the brightest voice you have ever heard

stolen,from an angel.


It will lead you through a wonderful dream.


It won't be the one you have felt your way through in the past

set in cold braille and aspics of silence.

It will be constructed with triumphal music

mortar'd together with honey,spice and all thing...

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illusional babe

Certain piece

of beautiful dreamy music

transmutes into visions.


Bringing you before me.

Puts a crown of flowers

around your head.

Gently breezes

the ebony flow of your hair.

Closes your eyes.

Makes you ever so slowly circle your waist.

Outstretches your clasped hands

above your head.

Dresses you in nothing

but a whisper of a silky veiled gown.


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In the corridors of after light

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Fiery day is banked down

subsiding into

the smouldering core

of sunset


and you O handsome bird

soon to be caressed

by the unreeling of

luminary tendrils.


the fluency of nightfall.


Near motionless

ornamental monarchic sentry

surveying a realm

of moon powdered fields

with clockwork fashioned turns

of the head.



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Followed by Mr Dark

Struggling up this hillside

challenges my age

yet poses no problem

for my shadow


he can manage it

lying down!

no aching joints

or defiant lungs

in his fleshless

boneless form!


There again

HE would find it easy-

that voiceless negative of me

since it is I

who is obliged

to pull him along.


Despite the fact

that at present 

he w...

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9teen6ties pussy hunter

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those 'O!'times.


My collection

of one-night stands.

Crowd pulling neon signs

above not enough cellar clubs.

Big suits

with bigger men squeezed inside them

allowing or disallowing entry.

Magnetic bluesy

leather,marijuana,sweat smelling

subterranean pleasure caves.

The drinkings of nearly my own body weight

in alcohol every Saturday night.


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He makes my love

all that it is

from all

that it was'nt.





Patricia Wilde

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In echoes of Nanoo!

No good news is bad news

no bad news is good news

but no news at all

would have been preferable

than having to hear

that Robin Williams is dead.


R.I.P funny guy.

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An attempt to Devil dodge

There is no remedy for death

so dont look for it.



only obscure oblivion

biding its time

behind a blinding light

is waiting

to consume every part

of everybody

-or so I am lead to believe.


The best thing


can do

is keep white washing

your shady sins


pray that God

is colour blind.



as a last re...

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Looking for the impossible

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And still I go

round and round


trying to find her

in our old favourite places


fooling myself

she will be there.


I experience

an air of expectancy

at each location


as though

her arrival

is due at any moment.


I am in the centre

of this carousel


wanting it

to stop spinning

faster and faster


but my sad despera...

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In passing


and lingering.


Being as flowers

colouring only

the roads to oblivion

never to meet again

along the ways through this world.


How diminished

how miniscule

we heightened presences

from earth born seed



Having savoured

so few sacrements

of the sun.


There is a wilting

a dwindling down

of all mortality



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No forked tongue for me!


my mind

can be so troublesome


but my smile

thwarts its attempts

to outwardly show

its annoying victories


inside this cranial kingdom

of mish-mashed thoughts

are the wriggling snakes

of clumsy,blurting words

squirming to get out

and fuck my conversations up

if they can


so before they get the chance

to coil themselves


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Bag Lady

With the death

of hope

in her eyes

the unlistened to

filthy ragged shuffler

behind a rusting shop trolley.


Woman in herself

but absent now

the grace she once carried.

A resemblance of suffering made flesh.

A disowned refugee

ousted from society.


Wast bin searching

fingerless gloves

rooting through 

putrid leftovers.

Last nights scraps


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In the mirror's of eyes

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When pain


to invade

we take

to resting


to each others thoughts

soothing the shadows

masking our faces.



We are who 

we took each other

to be

and continue

desiring that recognition.


Drawn together

in the passage of time

our belonging

anywhere else

could not

have held

more importance.


We seek


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Mamma Elliot's menagerie mansion little minder's

Eva put the sheep to sleep in the hallway

Sonny instructed the s-s-s-nake-s-s to s-s-slither ups-s-stair-s-s-s

they both stopped the parrots from watching cage fighting on telly

then to the attic they herded the bears


Donkeys were coralled in the basement

in the parlour with the hippos Eva began having a chat

Sonny made space in the pantry along a spare gantry

for two do...

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Sips of self redemption

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Another climbing down

from the cross

another of the twelve stations

made to disappear

or so he thinks.

While his guilt waits patiently

tapping its fingers

he takes another mouthful from the bottle

simply delaying

an inevitable and final journey

to where his personal Calvary

is waiting.






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The petite

neat and tidy

little lady


always includes

clean words

in all of her conversations

such as-





all spoken

with a courteous

gleaming smile

through shining teeth.


Dressed to coordinate

with the furnishings

she will always be

the palatially proud queen

of her stately

home-cum-down sized


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And still we charge (into the past)

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(For the boys who thought they were men)


Upon the order they thunder yet again

those warring hooves and feet churning once happy golden fields

to sow another crop that only sadness yields.


Why do we new fodder,we new harvesters of doom

continue tempering our minds so glad to go

to think of and spill our blood so freely

that helps only fields of crosses grow?



Read more …

Upon leaving the scrapyard

Now relegated

to public transport passenger.

My dusted off

pensioners pass in hand

off I go mumbling

every step of the way

to the bus stop.


Driver doesnt know

that I dont know

the procedure

as he finally points

to a machine.


Without actual mouthed instructions

I have'nt got a clue what the pointing means.

He relents.

'Put it there Pop'


Read more …

The greed of King Cotton

Dormant mill.


Its chimney





in misting dregs

of daylight.


The water wheel



by the tangle

of wild greenery.



can see behind

dust powdered


the incarcerated



still chained

as in life

to their

poverty stricken past





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A taste of Big Brother to come?

From one of the

cage houses

on the periphery

of Superior City

you will be brought

twice weekly

to do your duty.


Remotely controlled

by the implant

you will have no need

for an escort.


Before leaving

you will dress

the same

as everyone else

and cannot speak to anyone

in your own voice.


The road to

the Inner Chambers

are sha...

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Post diagnosis

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No longer

will he drag

his doomed spirit


into the mire


not when

sparks of hope

have flared

only to become ashes.


On the big dipper

of time


the carcinogenic

buffers of life.


He thinks

he can derail

cancers total conquest


by asserting

his suicidal

hard star

on the infinte plains

of finality



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Having a place prepared

Looking at her

makes him smile

because she doesnt know

the sins he has committed

and thinks he will get away with


Sins so dark

he knows

that it is not only

she who would

never forgive them

but also

Satan himself

who would not.


And he is unaware

that  a someone else

has been looking at him

and not smiling

while he

committed those ...

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Hippy recollections

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Undisguised wildness

once lived in everything about me.

Constantly bedraggled was my appearance


life was a cakewalk

very easy hazy,lazy


I could take or leave myself

in any state,anywhere,anytime.


illogical sunbursts

were the order of most days

and could be called on

at the drop of an inducing sugar cube.


It was indeed

and so so naively t...

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I had a fight

with myself today.


I won.




(comments preferred in message box)

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Hot fuckers in the rye

We left our virginity behind

in the wheatfield.


Leaving so enraptured

hardly noticing

the Sun having been exchanged

for the Moon.


A beautiful first encounter

that we took home and

closed it in with

more ensuing phases of







the Sun

back to where

it had been


its heavenly warmth


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In praise of an open window

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On my window sill,you

lost lepidopteran

glistening with radiance

jewelled in the fading sunlight.


I think lost

or did you come in purposely

for my benefit?

I shall assume the latter

and savour your company a little


then with silent thanks

take you back outside


where from my open palm

you set off flying high

up against and outclassing


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Moonlight pathing

across this glass smooth ocean

travelling at calming speed

into the very depths

of my soul.




by innumerable


and whispering ebbs


the shoreline

and I

have become one.


One grateful lover.

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Passing through Augusts country

Of greeness to goldeness.

hardily reaped.

Shimmering days.

Sun flashed streams.

Gull crowded combine harvesters.

Guilded horizons.

Summers smoulderings lazing in farmyards.



Times of joyousness.

Times of blooming.

Times of growing.

Times of my adorations going

away with time.






Patricia Wil...

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Austerity measures? what austerity measures?

Far from debonaire.

His dress sense?

non existent!

between beggarly

and complete shit order.


His abode?

a place even a homeless drunk

no matter how pissed

would be likely

to turn his strawberry'd nose up at it!


To expect him

to stroll among the gentry

and raise his shit stained tattered cap

to one and all? forget it-bigtime!

the very thought w...

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Should enclosures  threaten

I retreat to the haven of her arms.


An inner sanctum

where all encroachments are repulsed.


She pours  the religion of herself

into all of my defences.


Equips me

with the armour

of her undying loyalty.


Her devotion is my sword

Her love,my shield.


She is every barrier

defiantly shining in the face

of ...

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Waltz macabre

Companion joy,a boy

we thought would never age

uncaged the soul and led the dance

enhanced the stage of light,of love


above,all dreams flew, waiting to be caught

no thought we for reality,carrying on the act

denying the fact that the spectre of time remained unimpressed

never our guess at the twist he would bring about

flout youthful assumptions of a well applauded ...

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End flight


were blown from the sky

that murderous day.


Though debris of the plane

was scattered

my heart enables me

to see it

still flying up there


all the new Angels on board

are waving to me

on their way to heaven

and I to them.


This time

nothing or nobody

no matter how evil

their intent

will ever ever

bring it down again.


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precursor to a violent future?

I regard some of the 'episodes' in my early gobsmacked  years

as back stabbing ghosts.


Two of those spectres

I am haunted by moreso.


Closing time-

he walks past our table

and without introducing himself

places his arm around my then girlfriends(now wife) shoulder

in more than a friendly gesture!

Gobsmacking incident number one.



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After the worrying stopped

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It turned out

that his (S.W.) kisses

did as I thought they would

electrify my whole body!

that his promises

have led the way

to harmony

and together

we have weeded out

all problems

from the love seeded garden

of our future.

Going through each day

more and more astonished

at the growth of happiness

and needing to commemorate

our meeting

with the o...

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Anything she thinks she can do

to save a beating

gets stomped and trampled under his

staggering feet

including the spirit of her childhood.


Sad monster in human form

dismantling any chance of happiness,blow by blow.

His demonic glare holds the reason for her fear

as it searches the bruised and battered punchbag she is

looking for a new hurting place.



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