ceramic lighthouse

in the morning sunshine 

beams a shadow

 in the privet hedge

cacophony of sparrows 

over and over

no entry 

a sign compelling me 

to squeeze past 

 the moon is shinning 

on ten thousands poems

here’s another one 

 street corner kids

all the hopes around which

hardship endures

 such a fine peacock 

in glorious dereliction

time was eh

 january morning 

spending a few more minutes

in my sunny chair

 AI will give you

a comprehensive answer

to a daft question 

 lost in the dawn hours

a poem ruffles its feathers

and takes to the air

if you wait long enough 

life may eventually send you

a verification code 

 putting the catharsis before the hearse 

 broken heart

the bloody flow of words

staunching 

 a pony tail

one plait or two plaits or none

she was my sweetheart 

 raining heavily

inside the temple incense 

everything waiting

 my wide sad eyes 

the young lad with a gun

just shot empathy

 the moon stares as

the earth rotates and swivels

the head of an owl

 waving in the wind

the slow syllables of goodbye 

repeated long after

 incredulity 

the word baked in a bather

hot summer streets

 having to explain

the meaning of their haiku

many ancient mores

 what a stink when

the scented candle went out

drinking at midnight

 rough sea 

adorably doable

winter swim

 rising sea surface temperatures 

the raft of reasoning 

floating on that sinking feeling

is falling apart

 the poet

throwing a lifeline 

saves himself 

 winter sunshine

gentle on my eyelids

a sea swim soon

 seeing how i see

i see how others see me

reflecting pool

 the old poets live 

in the dawn’s cold sunlight 

icy tears melting

  mirror answered 

poetry is the lifeline

that is saving you 

 winter thoughts 

like tomatoes out of season 

hard on the inside 

the crows 

in the roost tree 

two by two 

 news flash

flooding outside the aquarium 

poetic justice

 the pushing wind

bumbling the children along

in their woolly hats 

the school bell is ringing

and tingling their years

 the pushing wind

bumbling the children along

in their woolly hats 

 the march wind all

red eyes and a runny nose

the hare’s afoot 

 listen to this

cleaning my hearing aids

the sound of silence

 snowstorm

my cold nose senses spring

embroidered hanky

 the whole wide world 

has all the prompting i need

oyoguhito said

 a long late glow

filling the corkscrew hazel

portending storm 

 snowfall

the picture is frozen

fingers

 petals on the stream 

every one of my poems

run away from me

 going with the flow

will never change the flow 

of the river of life

 in the cafe

her baby chews an iPhone

mum is distracted

 as the clock

the old woman walks her dogs

at the dawn of time 

 the girls in school

clever things with paper and string

i couldn’t even sing

 a moment

how slow it is settling down

forever

 if you leave a kiss

inside every beached pebble

they get roaring drunk

 freeway

behind the white line

crows breakfast

 every storm’s wave

i ask myself could i 

did i would i 

 just enough winter

through the window of our choice

more than two birds sing

 the  the   the wait 

more exciting than the splash

deep well of laughter

 finally it is time

to retire into myself

long overdue 

 the winter sun

coming straight into my hut

at bottom water

 my mind is a worm 

in the graveyards of the past

twisting & turning

 sometimes 

there was blood on the ice

and cold laughter 

 poems never ‘fail’

one step above or below

it is essential 

 a wren

flitting on Buddha’s head

east wind 

the wren

a stirring in the crane’s bill

east wind 

 after a cold sea

sleeping like a cemetery 

dream fishes 

 hanging my coat

in another closet

new me is still me

 time was

they were

the things

that are 

no more

 Schrödinger's garden

stirred by the same breeze

plants and or people

 every morning

i look at the garden shrubs

one after another 

 a shattered mirror is more reflective

 for every new loaf

a new toaster setting

renga meeting

 medical alert

traces of AI might be found 

during this consultation 

 sometimes it seems

i wake up when i’m asleep

and i’m still asleep

 writing a poem

before the caffeine runs out

now i understand

 recycling collection

outside the doctors surgery 

bags of shredded lives 

 the heart’s aflame

a galaxy of emotions

in the darkness

 when cables snap

and the satellites crash

where will we be then

 morning newspaper

despite all the sad news 

the sky still brightens 

 ten thousand pebbles

telling ten thousand stories 

stormy sea

 it is before dawn

i am putting out the bins

when a robin sings

 snow

the talk is of snow

and springtime 

often missing

from the obituary

domesticity 

 

 and then the heart 

when no more than a cockle

filtered whatever 

 treating poems and poets with reverence is an affectation 

factory fumes

on the annual outing 

fresh air allergy 

 the poet thinking

of her next concatenation

is an empty vase

 it wasn’t the snow

it was the way it emerged

the same old shame 

 sitting on a rock

watching the tidecomein

and go    out         again

 in between when we 

were planning a coastal walk

the sun came out

 deep in mid winter

ten thousand frogs are waiting 

to journey home 

 swimming

the sea becomes the sky

becomes me

 the trees are burning

will there be no more books 

about trees burning

there will be no more books

the readers have burnt them all

 waiting for waiting

longing overcome by sadness

after its departure 

 waiting on the snow

i am back in my childhood

looking for my pals

 achingly cold

my mendicant walking stick

ringing in my bones 

 on that one day

when the window on the hill

lit up my bed room

 it is very late

and i am very tired

the cat wants my chair

it is time for bed

for both of us

the glow of dawn

i am so lucky again

warm chair warm coffee

in the squeeze of dusk

i am so lucky again

warm chair by the fire  

 does death tiptoe 

or do the horses clatter

on the road to ruin