Search This Blog


Monday, 19 September 2016

National Poetry Day

National Poetry Day is on 6 October and is on the theme of Messages As this is the date of our next Poetry Club - we thought it would be good to use the theme as well.

So please bring a poem, yours or someone else's, on the theme of Messages.

Poetry Club meets on the first Thursday of the month, from 7.30pm, for an 8pm start, at:
145 Park Road, Crouch End N8 8JN.
Free event; refreshments provided.

Email  or text 07983 042875 for more details.

National Poetry Day website

Monday, 25 April 2016


White sand under young feet
Eyes filled with blue
Sky and sea and sun
The breeze brushing a soft face
Like a comforting whisper
No thought of the horizon
And what lies beyond
No thought of the high tide

There were many places
In the landscape to shelter
Many places to be alone
But connected to lived life
There was an outside
And an inside
And a path on which to walk
Where no way was barred

There is much to be recalled
And forgotten in the mist
Of time passing
Sand slips through fingers
Finger’s stiffen
Become slack
But always
Always love returns

Monday, 11 January 2016

death descends

Death descends
Like a giant bird that cannot be avoided
Swoops everyone with the brush of a wing
In time or out of time
No matter whispers the wind
Sooner or later the loss of life will pierce
The hardest of hearts

Love better now

Thursday, 31 December 2015

Talking to Rilke

I am praying again, Awesome One.
You hear me again, as words
from the depths of me
rush toward you in the wind.

I am seeking to break away
From the inconsequential

To see with greater clarity
That which is of most value

I've been scattered in pieces,
torn by conflict,
mocked by laughter,
washed down in drink.

I have been caught up in many ways

I have written before
'I have proclaimed Truth's river

But have not always been able to swim in it'

In alleyway I sweep myself up
out of garbage and broken glass.
With my half-mouth I stammer you,
who are eternal in your symmetry.
I lift to you my half-hands
in wordless beseeching, that I may find again
the eyes with which I once beheld you.

But I come round eventually

It is like turning a corner
And seeing a whole new vista

I am a house gutted by fire
where only the guilty sometimes sleep
before the punishment that devours them
hounds them out into the open.

I am a house being cleared of debris
Things useless and unused disposed of

I am a city by the sea
sinking into a toxic tide
I am strange to myself, as though someone unknown
had poisoned my mother as she carried me.

I am a city lit by many lights
Able to move around freely unafraid
The many paths cleared of shards

It's here in all the pieces of my shame
that now I find myself gain.
I yearn to belong to something, to be contained
in an all-embracing mind that sees me
as a single thing.
I yearn to be held
in the great hands of your heart--
oh let them take me now.

I am all here

Pieces uniting
Uniting and presenting

What is most real to a waiting world

Into them I place these fragments, my life,
and you, God -- spend them however you want.

To the all-embracing Mind

Who has always seen me as a single thing
I give You thanks for Your wonderous beholding

Text in italics from Rilke's Book of Hours, translated by Joanna Macy

To Shakespeare as the storms ends

Revels ending now ...

I am melted into the so thin air
The baseless fabric of this inherited vision
Dissolving in my hands ...

As each day passes
I lose a little or a lot
No matter ...

The insubstantial pageant of all of this
Is fading like a dream on waking
My friend ...

A rounded life
Or a half life
Ends in sleep ...

After tempest
Turns to calm
Becomes eternal rest ...

And now
It just remains
To blow the dust away

Listen to the speech


Captivated by that which is not lovely nor good nor right
What on this wide earth could uncover the entrance you stepped through?
Entertainment is a drawn curtain
And you are wrapped within
A stranger to yourself and this waiting world that has closed you in
Here nothing happens
Nothing changes with the ticking of the clock
And you, sad child, are rocked to sleep every night
No dreams flicker as you watch unblinking the outer screen
The flame of your life smouldering
What breathe could blow and enliven that which is almost gone?
And it is almost gone
You are extinguishing yourself
While all the while the birds are chirping 'don't go, don't go'
Before they fly away, my love, turn down the sound
What is it that you cannot hear in the birdsong?

Love all the while lies in wait outside your closed door

Wednesday, 30 December 2015

Hiding Place

Hiding Place - a lovely song

Love has hid
In nail prints
A tomb
A bloodied body
Within a cloud
White light
In the eye of the storm
And the calm thereafter
Love revealed
Where sight
Is no longer possible
In heartbeat's darkness