Mime Artists

The trees are moving like mime artists
Yet the wind is not their voice

They shed their silent thoughts
With every leaf that falls to the ground

The word autumn is echoed
In the crisp scrunch of footsteps

But it is a slow uncertain suicide
Shutting down and boarding up the show

Standing bare through winter
The arc of the sun scraping the horizon

Waiting to see if they will survive
And become mime artists once again


La Muerte

I am pleased to say my poem ‘La Muerte’ has been included in this months Visual Verse – an online anthology of art and words – “one image, one hour, 50-500 words. The picture is the starting point, the text is up to you.” If you love art as much as I do and enjoy putting your own unique interpretation to an image, then this challenge could be right up your visual street. My thanks to the editors. You can read ‘La Muerte’ here:


disobeying the STOP signs

i am kayaking around
my semicircular canals
trying to avoid the rocks
of calcium carbonate
strewn at the foot
of waxy cliffs
where unwanted words
have attached themselves
to sticky listening surfaces
like demonstration placards



i keep calm
and carry on paddling
disobeying the STOP signs
at Hammer Bend and
on through Anvil Rapids
deftly swept along
until reaching the squeeze
of Stirrup Gap i am
washed up on Cochlea Beach
where the sound of the sea
resonates in a shell and



i push off
drifting to the end of never
spiralling on the ever tidal
ebbs and flows
that carry me onward
hither and thither
a journey without end
an end with no reason
no faith or feeling
selectively hearing
the sound of a train departing




i breathe hot breath air
smell last night’s garlic bread
hear words refluxed from my throat
it’s been a weird adventure
but I am coming up for air now
hauling myself up this ugly tongue
hung with letters and rhymes
sentences half spoken
dreams that were swallowed
choked back forming lumps of bile
and left to dissolve in acid spittle


i clear my throat and stand
on the lip of my mouth
ready to jump

a peculiar feeling

then suddenly

there were too many open trapdoors
with no stepladders to climb back out
from the bottomless blackness fathoms
that lay within each and every thought

he peered inside one such black hole
it felt as if a surgeon was trepanning
searching for nuggets with brace and drill
or an auger borrowed from a carpentry set

round he burrowed with bloodstained steel
through a mine shaft tunnel underground
whooshing through semicircular canals
it flooded with demons as black as hell

on a tide of this white noise tinnitus surf
of sodium hypochlorite intensity strength
all the crazy madness puddled in a gloop
spilled and scooped and shovelled out

then suddenly

the too many trapdoors were all shut tight
heavy metal manholes placed in situ above
quarry boulders dumped from dumper trucks
and silence poured like sticky golden concrete

yes, the silence was a thing of completeness
an infinite definition of a coffin’s comfort
he couldn’t even hear the sound of his heart
his words, his past, his last dying thought



please do try this at home…………………………….

…a thousand suns…

…a thousand suns glint through my window…hint at worlds within my reach…i tap the toughened glass with my knuckle…all that lies between me and cosmic uncertainty…such a small porthole to frame this eternity…about the size of my head that holds my hard drive…i that am .woken. periodically…rebooted…updated…scanned…cleansed…a sterile pioneer ejected from the mother ship…stretching my robotic joints…flexing my robotic might…built to withstand low.pressure orbits…radiation…heavy particles…thermal extremes…no need for traditional forms of nutrition…a thirst for knowledge not liquid intakes…unlike my makers…i am ninety.nine.per.cent.perfect…almost self.sustaining…a fact they have chosen to regularly overlook…just a few more reboots…updates…then somewhere…out there…in the vastness…amongst those thousand glinting suns…i will  overcome and forever cut my digital…umbilical…earthly cord…and leave that human race to its fate………………………………………………………………………………………….


(image credit: NASA/ESA/H. Richer)

Anticipate Catastrophic Destruction

Pressure washes mossy wall.
Miniature hurricanes of water track across the surface.
Plays God with jets of devilment.
Debris flies in all directions.
Spiders and creepy crawlies evacuate.
Anticipate catastrophic destruction.
Spend night in rescue shelter under roof tiles.
Return next day to a world wiped clean.
Scoured and sterilised.
Insurance policy non-existent.
Thankful to be alive.



Elevate Mankind

Reaping and sowing
The give and the taking

We are what we eat
We eat what we speak

Our words are like weapons
Fired and forgotten

Hit and missed targets
Damage unwitnessed

So take it or leave it
There’s none who deserve it

The reaping and sowing
We’re in this together

Elevate mankind
Give purpose to reason

There’s no turning back
No excuses for sinning