high summer

a fly comes in one door

goes out the other

 not a breath

the movement of a bee

in the lobelia 

 my late father had a last

 a fat cat

is watching

a fat pigeon

 a childhood 

that smelled of ladybirds 

trapped in a jar

 writing sad poems

in the heat of the moment

i am shivering 

 listen!

two i said two 

twice

 the sunday dogs

bite the silence that breathes me

morning clouds over

 ~~~~~~~~~~ north dock ~~~~~~~~~~

seagull shit and feathered dock-water 

~~~~~~~~ steps were taken ~~~~~

 ten thousand hands 

have polished the railings 

coming and going

 always one shite gull

slicing a sunday morning

of a salt sea sun

 there is no meaning

it’s all just the tickling 

of propensity 

we are sad to hear of the passing of the euphemism  

 grey morning

the gulls fall up the wind

where are they going

 images of war

what right i to this sorrow

yet i feel so sad

 the cat

watched jenny wren

disappearing

jenny wren

had a hunt in the corner

then flew away 

 blue sky

breathing in a morning

late in July

 sunshine 

the floater in my eye

follows a fly

 between our house 

and our neighbour’s house 

morning moon

warm dawn

all the tiny flowers

have long shadows 

the lonely bone fox

slowly wends its wicked way

through the mausoleum  

 the crows are in the pear tree perpetrating

 season ticket 

the bees try every ride

in lavender fairground

 hot summer morning 

my elderly neighbour

her carpets steam cleaned 

red sunshine 

a red spider spins its web

in a red geranium 

 a contrail flew west

a contrail flew east

a seagull landed 

 spring fresh 

the waters of your words 

stir the sands 

 a woman from swansea 

swam with a swan

in norway 

 the poor butterfly

that was in the spider’s web

has escaped with me

 vapour trail

going to heathrow 

garden breakfast

 rain

a seagull standing on one leg 

why

 gingerly 

through the wet lavender 

a stray cat

 parked up 

opposite the prison 

a luxury coach

 bees in the breakfast garden

the president has been shot

 i am shouting out

my hearing aid is working

no need to shout!

 the enigma is how enigmas are

 global warming

there are so many end points

i wonder which one

 the reflection of one hand clapping

 morning things

they have been there forever

haven’t they?

 a walk seaward 

caught in a repeating loop

everlasting life

 gentle music

see how the flowers 

are lifting their heads 

the sun might 

even

 new hearing aids

oh my creaking joints 

i feel years older

 mid morning 

a fly walks past an ant

warm stone

suburbia 

bark infested neighbours 

post code K9 

 studying black holes

he hadn’t seen anything

that others hadn’t 

 at rest

in a graveyard of euphemisms

fast asleep

 sunshine

on a one crow morning

before the rain

 a dawn sea

breathing in and out

at the same time

 at rest

in a graveyard of euphemisms

fast asleep

 a graveyard of euphemisms

 news

the hanged men

have modern shoes

 unless an old man

is in his second childhood

do not believe him

 work is not enough

hard work is stipulated

by today’s rulers

 an adder swiftly

taking away its gleaming

my wide eyes