The Other Bank

On the other bank
out of reach
Pride’s grimace
forbids it

Not a finger
can span
nor lift
that spell

No salve
nor ointment
for the bitter
Juniper berries

The ambitious debris
slate black scree
weeping cold
on the mountainside

The fitting seizure
of a moment passed
a crushed portcullis

Not an ounce
of blood
most vital
to the eyes

And that egret
eats sticklebacks
once again
and forever

Armitage Shanks™

Dressed in his resplendent uniform
and his white silken gloves
each with three buttons
he shines porcelain daily

He places ancient scrolls of parchment
in the sacred reading cubicles
he wets the terracotta dreams and waxes
filling all the phials with ointment

He tinctures the air with incense
and places floral offerings in the vase
he cleans each shining altar with love
adding Naptha where it is needed

Cleanliness is his obsession
and soon they will visit his shrine
the one he cares for day after day
spick and span, spick and span

He knows his place.

Soon the Temple doors will open
and they will flock for confession
for some welcome release on their journey
just passing through, passing through

He knows that they cannot see him
untouchable the Brahmin in his Soul
does what he must always do
he shines porcelain daily

He buffs the vanity mirrors
and fills all the machines with fayre
adding blue pills and plastic
which perhaps, they might later wear.

He knows his place.

And when his shift is done
he reads Nietzsche in the night
and Lao Tze at dawn
he worries at the fading of his sight

As the eight bells toll at five
once more he becomes alive
he shuffles off the duvet warm
and reveilles at his alarm

Dressed in his resplendent uniform
and his white silken gloves
each with three buttons
he shines porcelain daily

He knows his place.

A Most Unnerving Love

Without heat
Or coals of passion
As a feather
Sailing a tendril breeze

No demands
Or pressing
Past all the senses
Unseen, unnerving

Somehow so close
A wafting memory
Familiar from…
Before the dawn of birth

Ephemeral, formless
A fuzzy peach
On the hackles,
A mystic dew

No handles
No levers
Unhurried and free
No price, no condition

Piercing softly
Deep profound
The fabric through
And, without curtains

Unnerving subtle
Yet Marianas strong
Pulls the hidden umbilical
A tug of war

The timorous heart
Knows, it knows
That certain mind
Runs for the hills

Raw fresh nectar
Longed for

No name
To call it
A Soular yearning
And an ache

The spirit
Leaves his raindrops
Perfect earth she catches
Open palmed

Most unnerving
This fragile love
Beyond the known
And now, home

The Mirror of Justice {noumenon}

A noumenon

sensed by all

feared by many,

awaits and patiently

To gaze unready

is to quake,

its palantir eyes

always abroad

No squirming justification

no wriggling excuse

face to face


The movie of life

in black and white

played for you

over and over

Learn you will

but how?

unwilling and denying

or open and receptive

After the mirror

two shillings

for the ferryman

and not before

April “Haiku”

with full Sakurai

my fresh carbon footprints

on a sparkle diamond dew!


the heavenly scent

freshly cut grass

invigorates nascent dawn


air traffic control

stacks the birds high

a sunflower breakfast


the pressure of leaves

waiting for birth

an incoming tide of green


tiny blue flowers

assemble on mass

one radiant carpet together


the orchard rejoices

the pendant spring

with its garlands of blossom

back to life

a subtle hint of pink

a yellow daffodil wink

buds are pressing out


the promise of a surge

that flourish, that urge

the springs elastic return


a promise and an oath

fulfilled again


the bulbs light up the bed

brighter than any electric led


the tide hibernal ebbs away

and a first flow of new begins

smell it fresh in the air


soon the green canvas

will be spattered with colour

no more monochrome


the wagtails are strutting

all Saturday Night Fever

and Staying Alive


the wood pigeons coo

sweet nothings into

their loved-up ears


next the thirsty swallows

will dive bomb the pond

to quench on the wing


Mr Electric Blue

the virulent kingfisher

already whizzing around


coming back to life

with a stretch

and a yawn

Pirate “Haiku”

pirate ship at night

fog primordial

a bell sounds, haunting


fingers ice cold

caress the whiskers

wrinkled beards


Davy Jones waits

a chest full of hearts

no longer beating


a hermit crab

now coming home

a night on the town


milk bottles scatter

the cat o’nine wails

the lead cuts deep


the old salt tears

rivulets of hope

wetting linen shirts


giving him the

black spot

centre of palms


proud stigmata

of their blind



now even Roger

is not that jolly

he watches from afar

Nearly Spring “Haiku”

virulent yellow

daffodils headbanging

to heavy metal winds


three ducks on the pond

back from holiday

will there be eggs?


yellow irises

stretch after their sleep

a sonorous yawn


Maggie the magnolia

dresses luxuriant

with silken buds


impatient roses

racing for the sun

new vibrant growth


Camelia, Azalea

and Rhododendron

the coming trinity


dotted about

the dainty daisies

end the pralaya


randy toads

doing breaststroke

fresh strings of pearls