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A little trip

In the abysses of your eyes

Launching myself

To take a little trip and realize

Trying to make sense.


I will probably find colours and

Infinite kindness,

Delicate magic imaginary hand

Giving soft caresses.


Or will it be a chaotic symphony

Precious music

Sweet anarchy you make pretty,

Beautiful archaic.


After all maybe it’s better not to.


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loveadventuretraveljourneytripa little tripcerebraldescovery

Leaving Bangkok

Had he been riding the moped,

Of which there was now little left?

From behind my taxi window,

Cocooned in sweetly freshened air,

I imagined the pain and death

And the relatives, all bereft.

Peering out, I could see him, sprawled,

Bloody, like meat. ‘Airport soon, sir’

Announced the driver. Soon I'm gone

From this unyielding, lethal place,

Flying home through thin-aire...

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California or bust. 

Cruising the Mother Road, 
guided by Arizona skies. 

Soaring with the Eagles, 
ZZ Top, and Dr. Hook.

Laughing with hitchhikers,
like long-lost friends.

Waving out the window,
to Albuquerque wind.

Strawberry wine, french kisses,
love on the horizon.

Smell of freedom, 
between dust and rain.

Young, daring, 

Life never felt so Grand,

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The Arrival

the approval has been granted, 
the lift of the travel ban, 
the ticket longed for is now in hand 

three days scheduled 
in glorious summer heat 
with a lover’s heart in waiting 

greeted at the airport 
a loving embrace 
and staring deep into each other’s face 
before a long evening at an outdoor cafe 

between smiles exchanged 
we smooth out spaces 
between places that haven’t 

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Going Nowhere Fast

At first glance we can safely claim to have it all

An observer would say we had a bright tomorrow

Yet beneath this glimmering facade lies darkness

The prospect of pain and possibly, sorrow


I met you at the Albany races when my ebb was low

Fast thoroughbreds reflected in your hazel eyes

We lost our shirts but won each other's hearts

For people like us there was no greater ...

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The sun pokes its face.
Through the gray haze
From the rough top
I sit in my own peace.

Morning over Ahmedabad
Above the sandalwood trees
The feeling that is only found in dreams

The baritone call of a waking bull
The buzz of a motorcycle passing by
In the market debates of the price of dates
The clinking of the spoon stirring the mornings' chi

Morning over Ahmedabad
It is much m...

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IndiaAhmedabadTravelPoetry 2017

Camping Memories

Oh how I loved to go camping 
in a tent in the back yard,
in the campgrounds of the Smokies, 
on the coast of Nova Scotia, 
with the Dories in Grand Canyon, 
in the Everglades of Florida,
wherever the places may be. 

Each trip was different, with its own adventures 
that brought a kaleidoscope of images,
a patchwork of memories.
each memory vivid and distinct,
of different times and p...

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17 and a half

Coastlines guard us along our way,

As we gaze and point to places during our stay.

Cold and fresh as we were weeks away from May,

"I love you" were the only things I could say.


Losing bags with cards for the year,

One too many expensive glasses of wine and beer.

Canvases and paintings in the rear,

You are my only peer. 


I took you to a special place,

Despite my...

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London and Art

It’s a good a place to cross as any

London Eye destination of many

But not us, we seek Southbank for sure

It’s just other attractions have more allure

Art and creativity our magnetic attraction

Walk past tourists, our vision abstraction

Dali Universe to be our first port of call

Give ourselves all morning taking in it all

She pushes a melting clock it swings with ease


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New York City

a whiff of caffeine and cologne on your left collar, two cups of decaf 

and half a hug along the plane of our shoulders

       and we took off


with stolen glances at my pendant as red and radiant as the waking sun  

and the mole on the bottom right corner of my cheek, scaled to the size of a period that never surfaced in our conversations 

        our wings welcomed the wind li...

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First person, singular, Agra, India

in a taxi

after 13 hours travelling

sleeping over towles that cover old seats

not asking ourselves what is underneath

arriving at the yellow entrance of the homestay

with flowers, when just outside

there is a cow with a naked kid on a side

what is more peaceful and wrong at the same time?

I can't imagine I can only rhyme

harmony, yes, is that touch on your eyes

and su...

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Armchair Travels

Around the world

In 80 websites

Cutting the costs

On all those

Long Flights

Threw away 

The suitcase

& the rucksack

No more clothes

For me 

To un pack

You see

I'm minding my





It's just a 

Posh way

Of saying

I'm skint!

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Third Eye Blind

Mind spinning faster than a cyclone.
Do this, do that ad infinitum.

Worry about things beyond my control
until the scowl line blinds my third eye.

Waste life surfing the net, 
following every link that promises to take me higher, 
faster, farther than the languid loop of my existence.

Why does it never seem enough?

I long to escape the stoic-ease,
walk hand-in-hand among redwood t...

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Rhododendrons And The Hudson River

Unexpected botanical specimens appreciated as we wait

Rhododendrons growing wild, well untamed at any rate

We want to see it after dark, adding textures, night views

Navigated Hell’s Kitchen, towards our Liberty Cruise

Flowers near the ferry office, she takes photos up close

Standing back I admire, a poem in my head I compose

The tour starts, Liberty awaiting our pleasure

Our ...

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Taken from my audiobook 247 Poems

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I am transported by

a narrow orange moon

                and a million stars

                the still cool air

                the silence of the yard


I am welcomed by

a single ghostly owl swoop

                over the sheep fields

                the creak of my gate

                the scratch of my key on the lock



the silent click...

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Three Poems in Tana

1: An Old Transformation


Her body


as sea ice

lay before me


by life’s swell.

I remembered

the pull of her currents and tides,

her surging waves and deeps

And I knew

I could no longer navigate

the course

we had set

so long before

As she lay before me

still, pale, cold

I wept:

for ever



2: Lovers




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Travel Sickness

I sat all day in the corner

awaiting a call on the 'phone

but when it came through

the voice that I knew

was nowhere at all in the room


The nurse that called me much later

knew where I was travelling to

but she never heard

the call of the bird

that flew in my traveller's dream


The doctor gave me some drugs

to keep the malaria down

but the pills that I ...

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You aren't a stranger
But still a jigsaw
Learning your edges
And roller coasters ways
I want to find your treasures
And what makes you, you
My sight see's great
My heart feels this is it
Waiting for you to take me back in time
As I listen
And capture your past with memory
Not a picture as you will be exposed
Only by identity we matched
I want to study you like a history book
Maybe te...

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Mostly Welsh

I grew up in Wales

Around the Swansea docks

I walked beneath huge cargo ships

Held up with props and blocks


I was made in Wales

Around the southern ports

I watched the big ships dock

My family guessed my thoughts


I was mined in Wales

Near valleys black with slag

And closing pits and picket lines

With many a mine lodge flag


I was forged in Wales


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WalesWelshheritagelifeexperiencehistorySwanseaseafaringshipsmerchant navydocksportstravel


On a trip, away from the normal Normans,
Behind me, two noisy transport links.
The low rumble of a dual carriageway,
And the long, cutting swish of high speed trains.

Ahead, canals. Grand Union,
A railroad of a different kind.
No many in sight enjoying the late morning sights,
Those that are contemplating how things change.
On a bank, near a wood, along the canal.

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Racing Back to London

Veering through Northern valleys
Nocturnal nomad chasing lights
Squinting through misty glass at
Rural black
Hills rising raucously
Perfidious silhouettes whispering
Shadows looming
GPS. Reroute. M1. 
Settings were fucked - avoid motorways? 
No wonder

Back to the linear path
Diving towards the sprawling metropolis
Hours to go.
Adjusting frequencies -
The Wind Cries Mary.

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     he met a force


            it held him



... and wonder drained the world of substance

            re-arranged the pages of his book to give more radiant a reading.


The light of new possibilities

pressed down on time.

The girl sang to him "You can hear the boats go by". He


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AutobiographyCeredigioncommitmentfamilyfarmjoylifelovemarriagememoriesmythologynavigationoceansseatravelWaleslong poems

On paths

On paths we cross,
threads connecting
in place 


Our alignments tangle
in a web
of time 


Flashes trapped
as water drops 
on glass


When day closes,
our vapour trails
I trace


Those moments in place,
roll like ripples 
on a lake


Those places in time,
held like snow globes 
in my mind

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abstractplacetimetime traveltravel


Oh how I crave to feel the touch of the ocean.

My skin longs to feel the mountain breeze. 

This heart of mine seems insatiable when it comes to wandering,

To wondering

What this world holds and where my place in it is. 

I search for new in the old and for excitement in the familiar. 

How wonderful it is that you eventually find what you are looking for. 

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Travel Notes

White beaches and bent Palm trees,

Bath warm water and hot sand,

Ice cold beer, the scent of blossom,

The sound of fire lit live bands.


Humidity and waterfalls,

A Milkworm eaten from a leaf,

The mud, the rain, the cramp, the sweat,

The view from at the peak.


18 hour coach journeys,

The illness and the sick,

Your shuttle bus is a dump truck, and

Your camer...

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If You Called

If you called 

I would run a thousand miles

I would walk a thousand miles

I would crawl a thousand miles

If you called

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going from one terminal to

another terminal like a zip of current

the electricity is in the air

and it feels terminal like the death of me

a suspension of disbelief

      and can this be real?


The sky is a pocket of trust

a slipstream, a dream

as I watch the backs of heads

thinking forward motion or not at all

and the outside is looking in

through bulging eyes...

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Home from home  motorhome

Eric has cashed in his assets

greedy for tea rooms    vistas

dawns and sunsets in shorts

(we're bloody good sports)


stick like glue in our pod on the move

in the groove

going north west south east

as we please it's like a disease!

no sooner a sneeze than we make the decision.


Home from home        motorhome

motorway strip searche...

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I close my eyes to see you again

I can feel you with every beat of my heart

Can smell you, can taste you

With each breath

My mind takes me back to the start

You had me hook, line and sinker

From the moment we met

As my feet touched your shores for the first

With each passing day, you did blow me away

With your passion, your joy and your thirst

As your culture consumed...

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Slow motion





Living life at

Speed, if you blink,

You will miss it, thundering

Down the road to hell, thinking

This is not the Promised Land, since

You wanted something cooler, never

Planning an afterlife of flames,

A somewhat hottish heaven.

I found the way by going

Slow, do everything

At 33 instead

Of 78.



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"blessed zone"

These travelling shoes
lackadaisical partners
walk without weary wonder

they drift past
poplar-lined roads
into tangential horizons

and that is where
this wandering soul
goes off to, willing

and remembered only
by fleeted echoes
of short-memoried soles.





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There are doors

Thoughts are passing

through doors and gates

To parallel worlds,

with alternative fates.

A lucid dream,

a psychedelic trace.

An open landscape,

or a crowded place.

Pools of water,

dive in take a look.

A different way to travel,

like a wardrobe in a book.

Are we on the way there?

are we on the right track?

Or falling through a hole,


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dreamstravellost realitychildhood

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