I have been posting poems during lockdown based on the concept taken from a much earlier poem called 'Cycle Of The Scarecrow' a fantasy piece which tells the tale of a scarecrow who is brought back to life by a witch and walks the fields of Albion. It is a reflection on the changing seasons and of growing old - and the premise of 'what if I had my time again?
It was released today as a digital do...

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Messiah Of The Fields

They left me hanging on a cross

The saviour of the summer crops

Just rag and straw so no great loss

My blood is in the wheat and hops

I faced the black and vicious hoard

Their coal cruel eyes and sharpened beaks

I am the ragged overlord

Who scares the crow yet never speaks

They pray to me to save their soils

From dark boned devils ...

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Mask

Mask

Covers face

Unknown eyes watching

Religious tolerance found wanting

Fear

Mask

Double standards

Stops the spread

Of disease and death

Secure

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Votive Offering

the flame was bright

it danced in the dark

the wax dribbled down

the sides of the candle

and hardened

on the slate table

we peeled it off

and placed it

in a pewter bowl

flakes of candle wax

we lit another candle

it was red

the wick was long

and the flare

from the flame

shone just as bright

as the candle

we had lit

t...

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Fairy Cakes

They believed in a mythical being,

who supposedly loved his creation.

Omnipotent and all seeing -

His will needing no explanation.

They followed his lore from an old book

written by disciples raising the stakes -

that one thing they just shouldn’t cook

were those sinful and bad fairy cakes.

“Good will to all men” they proclaimed

(but the women di...

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Catechism

I will not be defined by ancient Gods,

or the archaic teachings in their books.

I will tread warily around their words

and avoid the hidden traps and snaring hooks.

I will not stand behind a coloured flag

and spout my blunt imperialistic views

or drape it on a coffin when I die

or burn it on the early evening news.

I will not make a choice that’s...

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Good Times

Cold light of dusk
illuminated through
these stained glass windows.
Candles lit for saints and sinners
cast dancing shadows
on the marbled aisles.
Prayers for lost souls,
mumbled in archaic prose
to heighten sense
of magic and reverence.

Genuflection.
      Sign of the Cross.
               Body of Christ.
      Blood of Christ
Soul of Man

The burnt rag smell
of i...

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Northern Lights (54th)

The Northern Lights are ablaze tonight

And, oh, I’m feeling down.

You never could just treat me right,

You always played around.

This fallen angel’s lost his wings

And come, at last, to ground –

While all the while my world turns

And those Northern Lights go round.

The heavens glow with neon arcs

The skyline blazes brigh...

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