Monday, 21 November 2011


How come we walked through
From the back
Indoors the gravely square
When guards stood at the gate.
Away from the crowds
Who light torches to how great it is.
The peachy reverberations in the sky
Footsteps crunchy, slowed down
Like in a film when the extras
Have all gone home.
And night never gets
As dark as your hair.
We walk in contradiction
To buildings who've made
Decisions for hundreds of years
For so long they've forgotten
Their reasons why.
Stand strong, no clues
For angels who carry crossed out crusades.
And the London Lion's handsome stone.
The roar we heard was a train
Engines moving people on
When it was good that day
To just stand with you
Over fairy light reflections
In the murky old river.
And drift around
Even though we were too late
For the Waterloo Sunset
That was 1967
And the English
Wave death like a flag
And I do
And it cuts the conversation short.
I think you know, I don't know
I really should have
Said I'm lost
Always looking for somewhere
To see
But nothing too bright.
And now it's next week
And I forgot to say
Something like skylight followed me home
Not statues cast for good as soldiers.


Monday, 7 November 2011

The Fancy Feather

She felt the lost fancy feather
I'd seen a breath before
Blow a stray confusion of kisses
Giddy wavers through our hair.
Did one sand hearted wing betray you
To float on the morning fray?
So you appeal to an off the shoulder
To rest jet landings on loan
Till a garland reins in the breeze.
After you, are you tempted to linger
To hear stories of the lost fancy feather
And be grazed on the cheek by a quill.
In a triangle we link for a moment
Then cross unrequited to wonder
Why our safety chain is tired and undone
When we sleep diamond mines all night long.


This Autumn

This autumn there was a butterfly on a traffic island, posing from daisy to mauve daisy, in the late sun. Fashion plate chic at rush hour.
I sat on a concrete cube and she let me watch her.
While a thrift store boy and girl were shining on each other. Natural as leaf fall, on the wall, the colours of October.
And cars slowed down for the lights.


Yellow Rose

Yellow Rose of Kemptown
Stayed out too late again
Not well dressed for winter
Every year you do the same.