STOP the world I want to get off
with you, in a space  
neither left nor right, east or west.
It's time to feel the reaction to all our action,
feel the recoil of our scattergun shot.
And feeling undeserving of sleep
we yearn the stronger to dream.
And in this dream space, and thanking God
we are here to help one another,
in this wood, blundering through the trees,
forced this way b...

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There'll be a torrent of answers
I celebrate the fact
but float no answer here

neither is it reasonable 
to breathe questions
already flooding the airwaves

here in poetry
meditation given over to consideration
we drift in deeper currents

all that is at stake here
the existence or extinction
of societies fragile as coral

meet me where on the sea-level
green grew the rushes...

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If there were one among them that did not
call to the corner of my eye as if
the tiny show of tears provoked
should benefit them some way.

And if there were a darkness or evil 
so profound I could find rest within it
ceasing to see them, awake or asleep 
all the same, as I do.

If a reminder of the robin redbreast
or semblance of a last-gasp squirrel
athirst for the cause of all ...

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    We would like our far descendants
without knowledge of our lives and ways
to understand a little of us after all.
    How we held to the stable virtues
before our footprints once impressing this beach 
were cleansed and lifted as ever.

    It's for those who ride life's driven wave 
to marvel as fortune turns with each dawn.
    Let them return here blessed but exhausted
as the...

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I hear her speak the one language.
Can I find such poetry
to make a true response.
My muddled thoughts and limited wordstock 
I know for what they are.
Hearing my mystic name 
in a continual farewell
I wonder to what purpose.
My desire is to give an answer
in the one language.

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Approaching the small window
horizons expand
attention deepens 
through this porthole 
in a vessel inclined 
just enough to see 
all that was missed before

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"The moon is a penny thrown into the sky"
She confides
"A boon for the most needy passer-by"

"Who threw it there!" and "Why doesn't it fall?"
We children shriek.
(All the more insistent for being so small.)

" I threw it there, a moment ago.
"And it will fall if you say it isn't so"

Kids rush to the window, squeal: "It's still there!"
" Then I shall leave it in your own good car...

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Let's just say we're abandoning science-fiction quests
regarding them all as poor sand-castles
shrinking from the buffetting of any day
let alone the tide they had thought to challenge.

Plain speaking might be best but think
no one seems able to get their ducks in a line
ducks more like scraps of feather and echoes of quack
unable to even trip over a lyrical line or lifeline.

Let'...

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Move on past the Black Horse, take the steps 
reeling right and left up the green shoulder.
You're in the woods best called "the real world".
Magical of course. Moss-carpeted trees
hollowed to join anon their blown over brethren,
upon whose crazy crumbled limbs you ramble.

In fact this green land that dips and swells
is but sleeping giants and dragons and God knows what.
Progress ...

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The old fool folds a bony talon 
jealously around the timeless and universal
when the old fool remembers their value
though the blood of the age surges in the old fool's body
and the scars of the old fool's particular history 
are painfully ever present.
This, for better or worse, is what I do.
I do remember splinters, blisters and nettle stings
but I'm no Seamus Heaney.
I can't bring bac...

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A dream would answer reluctance to sleep
(fearful of never waking)
but you'd have to sleep first...

     Fear of death lives best in the mind
of tormented youngsters,
among all else they must overcome.
     Battling like green blades of spring to emerge 
from illusory dungeons of childhood.

     Them there closer to the end smile and play 
the fool without a care. Youngsters play...

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Via claw-marks of the jets
                   X 
       marks the spot.

                   A 
                spire 
                tries 
      to point the way.

     Smokescreens follow their evolution
like obscuring flags parading by.
Narrowed eyes learn to see.
Cries wrenched from innocent lips 
flash past as lead in the air.
Just sometime evident
stars circle this neighb...

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Captain: Tonight the crew party with the guests.
The man who made the Titanic is aboard
and we celebrate while we can.
Should we journey to a new world of grandeur,
times ahead can think with wonder
how they got where they are
and remember the man who made the Titanic.
How easy could a captain's sleep be 
skating over billowing black sheets,
and only the yellowing thousand watt moon
...

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I

Gathered easily and wholly satisfying
     before the visionary looks about.

Decorous words hang
     upon the branch so
          the creative plunge inwards.

Look about now promising words  
     jangle on every twig in sight.
          All directions gleam the same.

Now the artist's work begins.
     That dread violation of silence.

II

There is a story that leads up to...

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They'll show themselves as birds of paradise
not because they are proud
but because they are fearless
and when they have shown all they can
as birds of paradise
the one behind a screen, still as the dead,
camouflaged birdwatcher, weighted
with every kind of telescopic camera
posing as the one thing unshown
by the birds of paradise
sometime soon must throw off the sheet
and move une...

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This little world recalls a rise, a fall of morning tide.
A hovering snowflake on St. Perpetua's Day.

There is no magic such that
A falling leaf may vanish in mid air.

Remember good fortune if you will
As this little world will remember you.

The least feather can't be lost from the story,
Tell yourself not to sorrow to long.

Every step, every turn of the head
Brings a...

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Blind man's buff: in your own home 
and you could have been anywhere.
Pin the tail on the donkey: again blind as a bat
and how wrong you could be.
And the charades. Charade after charade:
at least you could see but were not allowed to speak.
What a riot, all played simultaneously.
Back then it was taken for granted
we knew our left from our right.
Labour was the working man's party.
...

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Nobody knows the percentage
of the world population
heading for London where 
the streets are paved with gold.

Those who have arrived
have condemned their own homes.
Along darkened alleyways now
they stoop and scrape for their gold.

Any avatar stood on Waterloo bridge
might admire the art of the sunset.
Old Man Thames will turn to blood
after passing through urban gold.

Thos...

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A suggestion of a statue, timeless 
on a pedestal, has released your heart 
-like a leaf from a tree- to voodoo dolls 
dancing in the foreground. Released your heart  
-but your dream is a nightmare-
to pieces of silver you have to eat,
and the lonely wayward miles, combusting.

How the eons feign to move!
It is that your heart may return.
All times are grievous says the poet
for the ol...

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Walking along the roof
       I see a bird

              Shitting freely
                     I observe

All shrieks and a-squawk
       I laugh out loud

             Oh, that withering look!
                     I fall silent now

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When will the blues ever be news?
The ash will remember the fire
before the blues will ever be news.

Look at a president's scandal.
See a neighbourhood cat run wild.
After all could the blues be news?

Say you support this particular cause
whatever support can mean here,
however ash can be said to recall,
however the blues could be news.

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Varied as any flock, these islanders 
are yet never far from one view.

On the horizon
it may be dragons they look out for
and the dull clunk of bells they hear
from where the sun has other business.

Looking out on these changeful waves 
always the same, the same
fascinates the islander
just as the ever evolving curls
of the beloved's shining
shining hair.
And looking out, to t...

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Here one small circle of lamplight
is all the world against the night.
And on this stage breathes a lady
old, in pain, but no way sleepy.
And the photographs in her hand:
different times in a different land.
And call her tears sentimental,
she has them flow, seen as central.
The dark surround is all it seems
-just dark- against the stuff of dreams.

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These poems have a parallel.

Without exception they are written to benefit the reader.
They are family, appearing alone is agony.

They are certain to make sense
the reader is certain to struggle with this.

The privately whispered hopeless prayer.
The celebrated arm of the drowned still outreaching.

One poem pulls the reader into its heart
another flies past mysteriously.

Each is...

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Before sunrise you'll see your breath riding the air.
The Andromeda nebula and yours.
Rivers forever returning under skies forever restless.
Frame the photograph you snap; give it pride of place.
"Long ago, in Utopian times!" You'll say before the end.

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Listen, 
should a mermaid you befriend advise you-
trim your sails for home.
Let the irresistible force 
meet the immovable object.
Never mind who is who, right or wrong;
seagulls aim for both the same.

Let's hope rainbows from teardrops reveal
that power residing in simple things:
your quiet word above the roar,
your face in the aperture.
The seal imprinted on your heart
you'll...

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A tattered grey shawl snaps in the chill gale. 

The widow scowls it is these times.

She hugs the graveyard closer to her heart.

For there is a howl of cold wind,

but it is not these times.

Books fall open when there is no path back.

A lifetime's study fails to show the way.

O, Arrow without target deprived of peace. 

Sustain yourself through an emptiness,

but it is n...

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Time is of the essence.
Running is bad for our knees and driving
bad for the planet but faster 
and faster we have to go.

Once on the same jet plane
we'll converse above the clouds and laughing
skydive together in contact for more 
than a glancing second.

To speak the truth, break the sound barrier,
see eye to eye at the speed of light,
contemplative hearts over and angain
read al...

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Someone, anyone. Not rich or famous
but very, very fortunate.
Awoke somewhere, well, it was a hospital.
And someone, it must have been a doctor
said simply "You're cured!"
The patient, flooded with relief, was unable to speak.
Later a nurse arrived with a bite to eat.
"Congratulations."
The patient smiled and, feeling unworthy
lowered his gaze. Obviously he would have to
offer a pro...

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You think that is the Moon?
That is a pale ghost of the Sun.
You know, of this immersion in silver
how very little is silver, don't you?

In this light we work out our course.
Each on a different planet; 
as though joined at the hip.
Then blazing Sun accuses us again.

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Let's define human beings
as grown up children
playing at falling in love.
Of course you and Jesus are different.
You have such a power in your eye
you keep the lazer beam hooded.
Do people need their limbs loosened,
forgetting for a moment 
how terrible they must have been in a previous life,
falling into a delicious trembling swoon?
Perhaps they do
but not unexpectedly, at a mome...

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Who might I offend trying to stay young forever?
Who do I honour slaying no killers on my land?
Who do I fail speaking the unwelcome words?
And who might I follow when fireflies leave the city?

Who might I need as witness to love?
Who do I fear with my reed-flute silent?
Who do I reach when I fly from my cage?
And who might I offer the answers I find?

This chorus that plans not a r...

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The noise is traffic and it is ceaseless.
Turn back where lies your sleeping angel
enveloped in silence.
Her hand unconsciously entwines with yours.
She is the one to lead you through
olive, myrtle, laurel groves.
You with the narrative; she and her elixir;
when both are lost and mists clear 
you'll find a forever home, 
perched beside bluest sea. Crystal air
upholds gulls a-floatin...

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Sentinel trees in a parade,
human beings find a boundary thus.
Felt to celebrate with folk of ease,
who call them majestic and inspiring.
These same sentinels seem to commiserate
with those brought low, to whom they seem
gloomy and menacing.
Sentinels alive with a niche for every creature
following its dream. And human beings 
follow their exploits with interest. 
Not being i...

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Sunvivid atomlight, whirled around in blue.
Let a body of wisdom accumulate.
And grow, nurtured in each experience;
one unique basketful per unique hand.

Mementos of years, bones after the feast-
collected knowledge to lock in dusty drawers.
But wisdom, as love, will not know itself caught
so think not to break free, all being well.

Sometime, for the sake of good hungering
shall ...

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In these lands, at once familiar and deadly,
natives now for the first time explore peace
having long sought to channel the storms.
These lands, deep and inspiring, 
have been shaped, are still,
by the prevailing wind. 
Having gained at last this small understanding,
natives may choose to benefit where once all was warfare. 
They may view the bones, broken and petrified; 
generations...

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A song made a visit today.
In the yard, children whistled and hummed.
Such was the power, I was transported for a time.
No musician was there to catch the theme,
light as soap-bubbles on the air.

A poem made a visit today.
A rose standing clear of thorny briars.
One I had passed many times; what moves the heart today?
No poet was there who'd memorialise the thought,
simple as a love of ...

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Up before the alarm;
money in the bank.

Close to silence, formless day
concocts some kind of brew.

Something of value,
held in the glare of a star.
How could I lose sight of it?

Door flung open: I am leaving home.

Today's motto rubs me up the wrong way
you can have it if you can pay for it.

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I have a Glass Skull.
You with eyes to see
a busybody bustle about
know that nothing can be hidden.
And how my mystery remains intact.
I have a Glass Skull
or snowdome that's been smacked.
You'll clearly sense combustible ambition
in shows of electric activity but,
for what exactly?
I have a Glass Skull
as documented in high definition,
filmed and followed on-line,
tapped by dete...

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I

With the silver in their hair some have found 
treasure and not through sheer luck.
For my signs long have I peered through windows 
but beyond me through walls they look.
With a breast that harbours surpassing dawns
uncowed by night, sweet for growing rare,
yet familiar as day to these spirits
beyond the thud from my raucous funfair.

II

Today a flock I've come to know vanished.
...

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On finding his fish
the mechanical fisherman
schooled to salute
inclined to dream
the mechanical fisherman
drips from his eyes
looks no further
on finding his fish

On finding his fish
the mechanical fisherman
rooted to the spot
rocketing through ozone
the mechanical fisherman
laughs away his aged scars
recalls his smoothed soul
on finding his fish

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Everything about you is strange. 
That is, interesting for its own sake,
pressing itself upon the whole body 
of your attention and imagination. Do you see 
the shiver move over tall grass, compelling
evidence a love-lorn god pursues his tryst.

Moving like an astronaut on Mars,
a foreign coin in your hand,
anyone might run after you as if
trying to catch a balloon before it floats ...

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While seeing familiar faces on the morning bus
I wonder how they might benefit from my poem
for I'm sure a poem should benefit the reader.

The day will come, as will peace on Earth,
when I'm able to hand out copies 
but at present, I'm the only reader.

I often feel, not only that a poem 
should benefit the reader,  but also
it should be written for that purpose.

Sadly I am the ...

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Of course
You could climb for the apples of a tree
Consumed by fire in 1663
After
The long, long dive from pink Aegean clouds
Ingenious plumage falling around
But
You should run with a scream at these answers
Across that bridge rudely smeared on canvas
Until
Inhabiting the paralysed spider
A businesslike wasp has stung for her larder
You
At last see by your own light the cloaked ...

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If all you can have of Helen Mort are her poems
what do you say? I'm puzzled. 
Do I learn of her or of myself? 

I take the hour's perspiration
gathered into a drip. It tickles me.
I take with gratitude the cooling breeze
that which propels those silver unicorns 
and other fantastic beasts.
For shape-shifting clouds pass
that's a fact. Specific to the day
unless...

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In Celtic knot-work bordering on life
innocent animals tangle with dragons.
In thickening crowds, as far as I can see
it's the mood portrayed in loud tattoos.

It's the lamb torn by the wolf's jaw;
snakes aloft in the eagle's claw.
How many like me would race away at that 
silent bell: a straight line out of the maze.

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Hands up
all those who have an idea
how cities of the future will be.

Cities of the past we know.

Shelters made good
from sheets of corrugated iron and strong plastic. 
Streets runnning alongside
filthy sewerage streams.
Citizens facing such hardships
any kind of crime should be expected.
Some degree of madness is
almost impossible to avoid. 

Connoisseurs of tears
need only...

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There is yet much to see
within the darkness of a tomb,
so much to discover between two atoms.
An awesome universe of consciousness
separates you and I. Discussion continues;
argument, but not agreement.
Fantastic discoveries, proofs, but no agreement.
Insights, epiphanies, revelations. No agreement.
We, not blind to the crisis, see far 
when we close our eyes, imagine
fine times of...

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By the edge of the road
I stopped and sat down,
at the bottom of a mile-long hill.
I mean, it was the height of summer
no shade and my hangover disabling me.
My sweating stumps could get no further.

Why should a brown Austin Allegro
roll to a stop 50 yards ahead?

Perhaps 10 minutes later 
my pulsating plates of meat 
were persuaded to shamble over.
A white-haired man sat eating...

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In your dark house, you should know,
the moths have gathered around a flame.
One by one they'll accept the challenge:
destined to assay closer, and closer.

An unremarkable moth has chanced 
by a window in the wall, by day revealing 
all you could want of the world,
but now sheer and simple as a mirror.

Here he learns more of the flaming wick
than all his brothers combined. 
Fram...

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