Their guts are exposed all over the road,

terracotta tufts pulped on the tarmac.

Tiny white tips of tails lie unsanitised,

entrails turning from scarlet to black.

The purveyors of death have driven away,

not pausing to peer in their rear view mirrors.

Fur is soon seeping, fallen feathers go grey,

only the grease stains of memory remain;

a feline sized pheasant sh...

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I am British and I'm saying it out loud.

Once more, I’m British, and oddly I’m quite proud.

The dumpy dignity of her Majesty the Queen,

The shared anxiety seeing Zoe lift it clean.

Can our Manxman Cav be the first to cross the line.

And what colour will Becs’s swimming medal shine?

The lovely Lizzie lifted my spirits to the sky,

with tears of gladness when we both be...

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I’m a catherine wheel, a crackling fire, I’m …

... an ascending swift, a snowcapped climb,

I pirouette on alpine peaks,

plunge breathless, goosebumped into swirling seas,

cartwheel naked through shapely sand dunes,

run hoodless, grinning in the unrelenting rain.

No muted rainbow, nor brown mottled moth;

Subtle shades of nice are never enough.

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The first time I saw you I thought oh shit,

What have I done, which way is the exit?

You never mentioned your grey streaked beard,

Although I was prepared for plain weird.

But while eccentric is to be expected,

It’s unusual to be GT85 scented,

Poker faced, surly and lycra encased

Oh heaven help me escape here post haste.

But I’m polite, a goody two shoes,

...

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Although what we do today feels routine,

a rhythmic activity which can seem mundane,

I still remember the very first time,

that whirl of surprise, then joy ... satisfaction.

I know back then it wasn't with you,

but a chance encounter, a sweet interlude,

a spiral I  held in my hand for a moment,

a love to be savoured, and longingly pursued,

for the sense of arriva...

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My mistress's breasts I shall not praise,

in ways which take two centuries.

They are not pure nor white as snow,

their nipples are now dangling low.

I won't compare them to luscious peaches,

with skin so soft and free from creases.

After the party, your deflated balloons

have more in common than the years' full moons

with these once magnificent rising orbs.

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A soul that soars and sings will seldom scream,

nor make a plea filled prayer to open air.

A world of substance not regrets or dreams;

short lived are tears, woes or human cares.

Not just part but at the middle of things,

awake where others sleep behind wide eyes,

rising to the sky by sentient strings

tugged ever upwards on visceral highs.

The moon for all its se...

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When April's sun shines and sings
there's a certain merry mischief
in the precise deft unfolding
of every pale green leaf.

Even world weary hearts dance
as late winter’s shadows lift,
exulting in a stolen chance
to unwrap a precious gift

To hear another's breathing,
to catch a hidden smile,
to see a return in a leaving,
is to dance while life is fragile.

A finest ...

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Grandpa in his weather-worn woolly
worked religiously along the pews.
The penitent peas pushed into place
amidst the soul-saved smell of soil.
He patiently ploughed the errant earth;
dispersed his peace between the rows
and within the still, worshipful silence
only the good were allowed to grow.
That sacred sanctuary stayed undisturbed
but for pardoned pilgrims; the common bir...

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