our best poetry is yet to come

poetry is for the moment
not necessarily for posterity
our words will fade away
as time slips from our grasp

perhaps a few will survive
our final gasping maelstrom
to be found by some future
poetic soul on another planet

preserved in a digital casket
waiting to ease their day
maybe they’ll be as lost as us
just trying to find their way


never stop

the words – the sounds – the images – never stop
i rest my head on the table and close my eyes
a noise outside reminds me of a donkey and cart approaching
i reach out and pat the poor beast on its back
a cloud of dust rises like a sand storm from the Sahara
i turn and light a cigarette and gaze out the window
a breeze blows the spindly top branches of a nearby tree
i touch the scab on my knee reminding me when i was a child
a girl with curls had dared me climb to the very top
i hold the paint brush in my hand and paint her memory
a rush of colours as bold as her floral dress flood the canvas
i write her a poem because the words are suddenly there
a photograph springs to mind as music hall songs fill the night
i am alone once more with my thoughts that never cease
a guitar entices me to strum a few random chords
the words – the sounds – the images – never stop

I wrote a shopping list today

I wrote a shopping list today
it flowed like poetry over pebbles
there were haiku halves in rice paper bags
and buy one get one free verses
a couplet or two of sardines in rhyme
a roundel of raw onions that will no doubt
repeat on me!

I wrote a shopping list today
it glowed like oranges in a window bowl
there were a load of old odes to cook real slow
and three for two on blueberry ballad muffins
a packet of pretty paradelle pasta twirls
a jar of jellied elegies that will no doubt
lament inside of me!

I wrote a shopping list today
it smelt like newly picked pastorals
there were punnets of sun ripened sonnets
and reduced to clear metaphors in oil
a quarter pound of sugared quatrains
a printed tanka top that will no doubt
look epic on me!

I wrote a shopping list today
it tasted like freshly kissed lyrics from your lips
there were eggphrastics to beat in Pyrex prose
and nineteen villanelles all in a row
a slam of spoken spaghetti letters . . . and
a bottle of Limerick’s Gin that will no doubt
be the literal death of me!


shopping list

this is not an explanation

you won’t ever get me
the paint drips, the splodges and splashes
the poetry, the way it all comes together
through absences and curiosity
sometimes I am here, sometimes not
I am zoned out, cigarette in mouth
white t-shirt, big sky landscape

you won’t ever find me
I might be here in front of you
I may even talk a little, mumble things
wander off down a meadow path
to the lake, fish from the jetty
howl at the moon, laugh at my reflection

you won’t ever own me
the money means nothing, nothing
it’s all worthless garbage, jazzed up
comes from god knows where deep inside
I puke it up, regurgitate it, spew it forth
without control, an emetic

you won’t ever heal me
wherever you hang me, try to kill me
document me, hero worship me
my life is an endless spiral of creation
I am the devil, the dark angel of dreams
the thinker, the painter, the poet, me



you are my thesaurus

you are my thesaurus
my concise o.e.d.
the verse and the chorus
to life’s symphony

be with me forever
my alphabet friend
bound tightly together
on you I depend

you are my wise mentor
my counsel, my lore
with words to explore
I will want for no more

Hello You

I wonder who you are
why you come here
to share your soul and
spill your thoughts
into all these little boxes.

We are both so alike
yet with disparate lives
miles apart only
internet connected
through cabled wires.

I read your bio
what you choose to tell me
and make up the rest
fill in the blanks
pretend we’re old friends.

Where are you in this world?
I want to imagine your view
see what only you can see
when you write your words
on your laptop or phone.

Won’t you invite me there?
take me by the hand and show me
all that means so much to you
let me understand the why of your mind
and share some precious time.

One lifetime seems not enough
to put these words into all their many
convoluted combinations
to make sense of the turmoil in our heads
and make peace with one another.

We should meet up and say hello you
so nice to meet you and
have a nice day
it’s been fun
I love you.

Maybe then in this time and space
this world would be in better shape
if we all just hugged and said hello
and understood each other’s woes
all hatred laid to waste.

Anyways I’ve rambled on
you must think I’m daft
my head all wrong
it’s just reaching out
that’s all.


(original artist unknown. From a display on Worthing pier May 2016, West Sussex, UK. Photograph by Colin Hill. With this new blog site I promised myself to only post new writing but this piece seemed to fit nicely with my previous poem our place and was written not so very long ago on 12th June 2016. I was posting on a poetry site and wondering who all the other contributors were, where they lived, their lives and wouldn’t it be fun to meet up and share a beer or maybe more. It developed from there into more of a peace poem hence the link back to our place. And maybe some wishful thinking that on my forthcoming US trip I could actually meet some of these fellow poets. But alas, no invitations were forthcoming).