High-end Liquids

A quality beverage enhances your life and social opportunities. Consider, coffee, wine and clean drinking water. Of a high end luxury brand might be the water as it flows from a crevice in a rock on a mountain in the sacred hills of a dew-studded place. — This is a companion poem to yesterday’s “the

Two Poems about Grey

On the fringe of grey bring some blue set above white and petal disks. Green is a good addition. Lay down black as tarmac. Square everything in Your life and love and happiness A tree! No less Grey like silver grey like gold grey like suits tales of old grey like hats grey, like pointer

Afloat

Onto my raft of plaits I shall step, with dreams of Alsation-men. — This short poem dates from the last quarter of 2013 when I did indeed have a dream about a raft of plaits and Alsation-men. Perhaps it was a subconscious mash-up of my plaited rag rug  (A craft project that’s still incomplete!) and

Conscripted

Rain slaps against the windowpane. Wee! Wee! It jests and jeers. Look at our ease of water-dash and drip and fall while you – Haha! – neith’ eight nor sixteen lines have wrought on that page. It’s all for nought, despite your ink-filled fountain pen. Yes, I see the sky makes way its blue for

Operations Meeting, El Dorado

This project allows us a ruler with a bit more flexibility. We are looking for a firm footing with a ruler, fully naked. This will provide a clear way forward – stripped of all his clothing. From January this year, thanks to Johnathan, the ruler has been on a raft. We have been able to

To the Valleys

Over the hills in this fulsome of seasons, the rains trigger migration of hartebeests in cravats. With dress suits and readings of love patient, love kind, they sniff over the morning for griddle-pan scones, white-veiled receptions, soft hands at their temples. Ah, all those summers a-toiling they bring back to the valleys as rings in

I do. Do you?

Remember how your grandfather stumbled and then fell into the garden pond. You wore a suit, freshly pressed – a strange look from your usual garb of sweat and day creased shirts. I in a satin dress of peacock colours, never wanted to be conventional, but my bouquet was of white arums from the garden.

A Bequest of Wonder

Within the confines of a silken sheet, the observers attend upon the temple. Before it returns to ash and dust, they light a votive offering. It is   in a portrait the thumbnail of the painter’s right hand   the sparse arm-hairs of a samurai beset by ghosts   the frog at the woman’s feet,

Genuine

When it is from deep inside and through my eyes, that crinkled nose – my truest smile. — For some time I was a regular attendee of a writing group. I often presented very short poems (some of which were to feature in ‘Shining in Brightness‘, my first volume and others which are earmarked for

Preceding seafaring that was not to transpire

She takes to heart her ship That is upon their advice.   Before her and harbour, In good forecast she sets Friendship to the friend As the anchor of relationships.   Later she squints through time’s telescope: Fearful sad that lens. It magnifies other ways winds blow. — Visit my first volume here for a