Poetry

The Dream Machine

If I were less than some impressed, voyeur of the stars I’d sit beneath the sky above, and weave my threads Manufacture empty schemes, build homes so far Consume the dreams, from the Dream Machine Though we are poles apart The gold that glitters on TV screens, Are the objects of our devotion; The Masters…

A Winter’s Walk on Leith Hill

Clear as the waters that once had dropped, The air flitting lightly high on the hills, Stirred and summoned the birds to flight, To flight and song that comes midst spring’s first breath.   Pine-tops swayed in the warming air, Each crown shuddering at winter, Which still clung to the upper reaches, where, The Sun…

I want to marry you.

Under the cosmic stars and brooding, eerie, moonlight Shrugs. But waiting, penniless Hoping, fateless. Fate-in Stricken moonlight Waits to be awakened to the two souls and minds and fingertips. Shout with joyous applause and ring, happy and cool, for love shouts, and it awakens, and it stirs, the very inner soul. Chastity, charity, the like…

An imagination of Brazil

Fire on rooftops, Dazzling, sizzling heat Sounds rise Warm air Women coop to endless beat. Clouds part Valleys shroud thought Partisan Union And love’s first court Human flesh ringing at holy bell Anoints with dull knowledge, and children yell Peering through One past Eternal Samba rhythm And this schism This rhythm Will, perfectly, last.

Rejoice, and be hot.

it’ll be a long time my love for i’m at coventry rusting, no bite here but blue skies and grey seas beckon me and i’m happy again thinking of life in all its dusty pleasantness hot copper rooves tall elms, council houses, football’s garden turfs as my pendolino whizzes by britain in all its industrialised…

Rosemary No

They say it’s your city, Don’t they, don’t they And i suppose a part of it is Cheap grey pint and part of it is For you though it means all Doesn’t it, doesn’t it Rosemary? Man took two of what you had And multiplied it by ten And everyone’s been doing it ever since,…

Me, we.

For surely, we shall all be found. Who knows Who knows? Not I Tangible cycle of dream thought disappointment dreamreality love For why ask we? Of course again. Despite blue prairie and weighty pen Know oneself unnecessarily but be oneself absolutely For now bestow not knowledge but confidence. A cold ocean-grey pill to swallow? And…