Limping Pilgrims
These limping pilgrims, weary, wounded, maimed, even. Yet heading homeward, leaning on sticks and each other. And each step of the way leads to new wounds, fresh blood. Mind, body, spirit – all assailed by…
Category: Original Poetry
The Sweet Bitterness of Autumn
I love the Autumn season, when sweet death is in the air. Not the kind that brings pain and sorrow, nor the kind that brings despair; but that which points to something, beautiful not yet…
Ever England
Brave Hurricanes and Spits still claw and climbFar up into the English summer sky,At the lingering end of a golden timeAs wild young lads and aging empires die. The Hood and Rodney still the Channel guardAgainst the strident Men…
Books on Watch
A day closes in obedience to the clock,To weary yawns, more yawns, and wonky jointsWords read are unremembered at this hour,And pages lie open, idle, unseenThe windowpanes reflect only this roomAnd its books, neither neat…
Book Shops Offer Us Civilizations
Book shops offer us civilizationsDemocracies of the living and the dead -Wordsworth, Shakespeare, Langston Hughes, and youOver cups of coffee wrangling meter and rhyme Book shops offer us civilizations James Weldon Johnson, Keats, and Claude…
The Late Sir David Amess
They say he was a gentleman And a gentle man The Queen's good servant And a child of the Church They say he was universal To those for whom he spoke, Offering a listening ear…
A Reflection on Choices Made
“…they have failed to tell the truth, preferring a safe distance” ~ Yevtushenko Maybe I disappoint, but now I preferThat safe distance Yevtushenko condemnedBecause in media res all is chaosThe immediacy of emotion and pain The best…
Autumn Dreams
Sweet melancholy, hangs in the air, visions of colors and dance.Wild lands, mountains, rivers to cross.Not yet! No! Take that chance.Crisp smelling leaves fall to the ground, gliding through the woods.Adventures, new chances, the ominous…
Fairy Daughter
Oh, father and family I love you all so dear You have always known I was the odd one I cannot help the call of blood you do fear That from our mother to me…
River Dancer
When I laid upon river stones,using rocks as a pillow,the river sang tome a song,and I rested; comforted by the musicof the wildas crows danced and sang around me.Little chipmunks and squirrelsrunning across logs,catching a…