Ashy Heart

Scarlet swirling sent

Skywards

Crackling coals cool

The heat remains in 

The buried ash

A glowing cave surrounded.
It glimmers, glows and doesn’t 

Go out

It feeds its flames with memories of fire

The nourishing thoughts.
Embers reddening to black

It is consumed by consumption and feeds a carbonated, carbonised  world

The blackened edges of our society 

Brittle around its ashy heart

The end of Spring

With swirling, falling

Purple petticoats 

The city trees signal

The end of their season.

The playful petals

Of springtime blooming

Have fallen prey 

to Father Time, 

That old greyhair,

And his consort Mother Nature,

Together conspire

To turn the springtime maidens

Into summer mothers,

Providing shade 

for younger lovers

Spreading their leaves while

Remembering the day

Their sticky fallen blossoms 

Took their innocence away

Life Before Spotify

Strolling Down the Highway by Bert Jansch just

Came on my music player software.

And I am transported to a room somewhere

In a memory vault coated in dust

Three friends sit and share our last tobacco dregs

And analyse the techniques of fingerstyle folk

The music is enchanting, our voices softly spoke

And we lay on the carpet, no strength in our legs

The night fires were burning, dawn a glimmering dream

Our love for the music was all we required

We lived on plain pasta, and fruit that had expired

And often a pot of dark tea, on the fire, released steam

That magical summer before the digital age, 

As a group of young students we told fantastic jokes 

Amid the laughter, The tea, the chat and the smoke

We found connection to each other that’s so hard to gauge 

A Tree Speaks

Our mountain home is a good placeWe are green of leaf and, fair of face

The raven’s wing covers our scars

And we trail our branches beneath the stars

Dance by the light of the cherry moon

Fearing the furious heat of June

When Our brothers fell in their habitat

Mown down by fiery flames so that

Some concrete blocks could take their home

And concrete people with hearts of foam

Will park their Eco-friendly vans

In villas carved from forestland

We trees our home ground cannot choose

In a war with man, we always lose.

Evil words

The words upon the tip of your tongue stick in your throat like stones,

You eat them until they fill your gut with tiny inward moans

Words can be recycled, chewed up and swallowed down,

Despite their taste, they leave no waste,

Unspoken words won’t cause a frown

But released into the ether, those words can’t be recalled

Their evil taste and influence into other minds has crawled

Because words are used as weapons, as much as instruments of peace.

In a bloody war of rhetoric the assaults will never cease.

A poem in praise of breastfeeding

Daddy’s sinking underGlorious weight 

It is a grand mix

 of all the energy – butter, salt

And sugars we could find and fix

New cells growing, plant fibers, 

cereals and breads giving nutrition and

Proteins from fishes

Oils too for those shiny eyes

Strengthen the sight we need to see – Vitamin D – we always need

More and more – 

more and more carrots for cold climate kids

Sunlight for sons born too soon

Salts and fats all included in the pack

The necessary niceties of night 

The darkness is never so black

Mama is ready at the drop – of a hat, not a spoon

And good – “it’s ready

Soon as I can, wash my hands

Ok let’s go hand him here

Daddy you go back, to sleep

I’ve got this I’ll keep him growing

He’s a growing boy”

Glorious weight, full of joy

(And milk of course)

A New Avenue (poetry prompt #2)

I’ve seen it now,A new avenue

Straight and wise

Like a volcanic plume

Nothing is new 

under the sun

It was said 

by those who know

But I am here 

Far from our star

Not off the ground

But far below

Below our earth

In a space never seen

The tunnels run

For days and years

My mind is expanding

To fill the gloom

I carry not enough 

Light or food

To explore the vastness 

Which I have found 

In this tube of lava

Far underground.

Present Perfect

I’ve never been too confident

But I’ve got it right

Too many times

To say I’ve failed

I’ve fallen and I’ve ran

so many nights

So many places

I’ve been derailed

I’ve been sidetracked

Drawn off course

Like a dog

Without a lead

I’ve made my bed

Slept on floors

Like a pot

Without a seed

I’ve reached a place

I’ve found peace

Unlike many men

(I won’t say who)

I’ve come to see

The path to now

Means the past

Is perfect too