I live in a golden palace,

Full with the very best of everything:

Shelter, sustenance, a silent welcome;

I never was one for displays of affection

On the occasion of a simply opening door,

Or is that merely an arrogant view?

I too listen for silences where I can,

With ears hissing gently in an empty room

As distant thunder rumbles uselessly.


This life ...

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There's a certain kind of human being,

That some are persuaded to believe

Would be capable of enormities

That most would best avoid, than achieve.


He (or she) loiters in plain sight,

Presentably, discretely, achieving;

Calling distantly from seats of power

For the reasonable, the fellow-feeling.


Fairly strict, quite affable; nondescript


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Saint Petersburg

Saint Petersburg is enigmatic

to the average tourist, hoping,

For a quick look , and some shopping:


Sitting, self-satisfied,with an old lady

Praying before her, and Ladoga Lake

For when the Neva River forsakes


The escape of the nomenklatura

To greener, foreign upland pastures

Gunning great Zils to Finnish rapture.


Now they return, slipping in once more,


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Deep Last Autumn

Deep Last Autumn


Deep, deep last autumn

Trees more brown than green,

Winds curled round corners,

Hedgehogs slept unseen.


Across the water meadows

Magpies caroled and sang,

Skylarks dined on stubble

And ancient church bells rang.


Up, up did my eyes explore

The burnished vault in rain,

In search of timely shelter,

And sanctuary from pain.



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hit the rocks

top of the bay

storm's a'coming

time to pay


looked around me

signs of trouble

swishing waters

white and bubble


wasn't forecast

clear blue sky

gone sailing

breeze and dry


something changing

down the track

can't believe it

floating wrack


please discover

whispered pleas

smoother sailing


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The Eyes Of My Remembering

The Eyes Of My Remembering


My eyes no longer what they were,

Dark shadows weave across my sight


That leave me wishing childhood's clear-

-Eyed vision's return in waking light.


My father's smile, his laughing eyes

I barely see through the photo's glass,


The washing frozen in time and skies,

A kitten plays on the background grass.


Can I wish for a ...

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So Much For the Everyday

So Much For the Everyday


The music of silence is the sound

Of our souls breathing.

Their slow, strongly rhythmic cadence

Is that of vigorous but frail hearts beating.


But you must listen, carefully, should you wish to hear it;

The tumult of living can easily drown and overwhelm

That steady breath until, almost exhausted,

We lay down our burden and just listen.


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My work room,

a clutter of painting stuff:

brush jars, paint tubes,

is busy (I can see)

as the peppermint gums

that flap great fronds

over the back fence,

beating at its green metal-

“Come on, come here!”


Each place beckons;

A big square canvas,

white as new snow

on an English window ledge.

Ready for paint!


In the back corner, s...

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The Thunder Comes

The Thunder Comes

As war begins the thunder comes

Crackling echoic to the guilty;

Ghost-chasers target single

Thick clouds, ripped in shreds,

Looking for applause from shadows.


Glowing eyes survive microseconds

In heavy heads of complacent


Sleeping bears, cockroaches continue

To ignore new, deeper darknesses.


This furnace dream soon will end


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Django woke slowly as the heavy dusk closed in,

Framed within a simple deal window. The street below

Began to quieten. Stray comments wafted from the inn;

Across the way drinkers cursed the gathering, drifting snow

As he lay in semi-wakefulness. The dying sun flicked

A parting salute along the cobbled roadway, her crimson

Painting its gaudy standards in fairground red. ...

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The Dark Land


The Dark Land


Surveying this place I tend to ponder

What it means to be torn asunder,

Divided between two unlike worlds

And no-man's land where the bagpipes skirl.


On one hand the fires burn so high

As to illuminate an empty sky.

On the other, myriad darkened places

Embrace broad ranks of fearful faces.


Their hopes serve merely to calm their fears,


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The Train Won't Wait


The Train Won't Wait


The train won't wait in the station,

Its four-faced clocks command

While I clatter past startled travellers

Threadbare luggage in hand.


I watch as a carriage begins to slide

And my race is almost run; oh

The Devil's work without a doubt,

A scalding in place of fun.


The scene dissolves in disorder,

The station crowd's undecided;


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Hope In Any Other

Hope In Any Other


Sitting outside the Welcome Break

where mental meteors abound

In armoured constellations:

Money, love, my ownliness

Lie shattered on its grimy ground.

No mask denies my consternation,

The burnt ones being still alive.

The city churns out embedded harm

At passing motorways of hopelessness;

Conveyor belts that strain and strive

To deliver start...

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Not Quite the Same

Not Quite the Same


Move stealthy as the dusk on

cloudy, blustery days when voles emerge

and the ravens, mere black arcs,

flap dysfunctionally at receding skies.


Creep like highwaymen surprised

among discretely flowering hawthorns,

demanding instant admission

to a secret surge of beauty.


Follow as a narrow stream, emergent

from its bubbling creator, pour...

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Into the Storm





I saw great billows fill and build

over verdant hills of grace

as shining songbirds danced and trilled

and the sun fell into place.


Then behold the mighty nimbus

alight in their dying flames,

strike like an angry mistress,

her thunder her crying shame.


Up, up they roiled and soared

in righteous indignation, as

lightning's fla...

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