Life is noisy and confusing
There is so much going on,
It is easy to forget the notes
Of your own imperfect song.
When you can’t remember where you’re meant to be
and lose your place…
Hold the bass.

262238_10150371061871982_6134945_nPeople may misunderstand you
Every time you try to speak,
To be honest, they’re too busy
To take any time to peek
Into your heart and in your mind
To see where you come from
And, if they try, there’s every chance
They’ll get it really wrong.
Leave them be, and let them leave you
Lots and lots of breathing space.
Hold the bass.

For they are struggling too, you see
With all of their own stuff
And very likely thinking YOU
Don’t really care enough
For them and all the dreadful things
That they are going through.
Well, sometimes they’re ahead
And other times, it will be you.
When you’re dancing your own way
And the world just can’t keep pace,
Hold the bass.

One day we’ll all stop dancing
And our rhythms will fall still
We think that day won’t come, but
You can bet your life, it will.
It’s all about the journey,
Sure as hell it’s not a race.

Hold the bass.


For Lucy

May you unfold,
opening slowly to the sky

Shoulders wide, hands stretched
to fill with

every second of your life.17833_310490464902_857963_n

To catch
your perfect beauty.

May you unfold.

Eyes raising, face into the sun
like a flower in first light

Turning to the dawn of something eternal
within you.

May you unfold
Lips trembling, soft.

May your whole body
tingle with joy

in an unfettered embrace

Soaked to the skin, unmasked
and unafraid

May you see clearly, all in one time
That you are always

That you are love, personified

May you unfold.


You are
pregnant belly
bursting with fruit
to me.

You are
child’s laughter on the wind,
widow’s shriek
joyful singing
dying sigh
to me.

You are
deep cave
bright sun
merciless winds
to me.

You are
all that is innocent
and sacred, and profane
to me.

You are mystery

You are blood

You are
sound of leaves above
feel of ground below
fire of wonderful hoping
waves crashing
against my heart

You are.


I see your
green mist, trailing, unfurling
and swaying

I see you
spread on the wind’s arms
filling the air with soft pieces
of yourself.

I see you
bedecked in gold
a beacon bright,
haloed against deep blue above.

I see you
thin purple limbs whipping
up against grey clouds
softly bowing
balancing snow.

A gentle pioneer in each
battle scarred place
you wait as seasons glide
across you
a guide, glowing white
in sun and in moonlight,
silver lady stretching
ever upwards.

Your Song

At the bottom of a box,
I searched for something else
and found the keys to our old room.

I held them, cold and hard, beneath my gaze –
then dropped them down into the dark abyss
of five long years of silence,
and waited for the echo
of your answer.

It came to me within the hour
edged with your customary
and familiar laughter.
You settled back,
into the place where you had always been.

And there you stand, a mirror
for myself,
a guard against self-loathing –
the risk of taking life
so seriously.
In you I lose my doubt,
my silence,
my regret.

In you
I can uncover
my most extraordinary self.

In your unquestioning acceptance
of my coldness, and my love.
Your natural wit will lift me, always,
from the darkest places;

Your unspoken words
are clear to me

and take away
the need for speaking.


Untitled (With respectful apologies to TS Eliot)

If these few lines could pierce
The double-glazing of your eyesFor we are hollow, hollow men but stuffed
With a vague and crafted sense
That we’re not satisfied.And how we watch, oh how
We tape and film each aimless hour
To scan the screen for something missed
Some lines to improvise.Burnt out?  We’ve done no burning, so
No incandescence lights our well-kept streets
And here we bang and whimper without cease
Our thumbs, opposed to beating our own songs
Squeeze yet another message
To an empty screen.

No scripted, voyeuristic peek
Behind these scenes
Live action-fed from bombed-out shells
No pools of rusty red can shake
The sense that real just slid
Right through the lenses and was digitised.

That nothing left to fear

translates to nothing left
for which to live, or die.

If I could breach
The over-sated comfort where we lie

But this lone voice falls still
For want of open wilderness in which to cry.

Maiden Song

She lived here, once
curled up inside
the softest recesses of my body.

Staring at the wide blue sky
she lay and soaked into
the soft wet grass

One night she stole away
and left him
still, asleep beside me
his brown skin
smelling of the sun.

Love Spell

May I
once again
touch your lightness

and blaze a smile, unprompted
as if the sun was shining
right down into me. May I feel

a deliciously unbearable urge
to move across this space
and rest against him
in an eternal, gentle stillness.

To tell him that I have

guessed the same thing he has.

To say
that we will get what we have asked for –

that we will take it, this time, gladly.

May I feel the thrill of idleness,

the freedom to lie back, just thinking
of our softly coded words.

To wonder at tomorrow
which will always linger just beyond our reach
and tantalise us, each new time,
with the sweetest promises.

Ride home

Today is warm.

I am completely wrapped
in sunlight.

Gliding home, I reach
to brush low branches,
with your words
flowing through me.


I can feel you
in absolutely

and am in love
with all the world.

For the Wild Storm

This place is calm,
central to the tempest we’ve created.

In here
my chest will rise and fall
in the still air
as I stand, my
arms flung wide

my fingertips just
brushing against the
whirling inner
edge of the winds.

Alive, tingling with fearful rapture
at the wildness
that dances there.


The Journey Back

I think of you on trains
– perhaps your last retreat
left traces  on the tracks
a rusty-faded glow.Does your day pause
to share this view?
A window,
darkness rushing pastand me, reflected
older, more forgiving
looking back at you.

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