Sunday 26 November 2017

James? It’s Uncle Tom.
Voice deep in my answer phone.
Death here is thy sting.

When my mother's hand
walked me through the memories.
Come my son, this way.

Saturday 25 November 2017

Winter sea swimming.
Reason? Frisson of rebirth.
Again and again.
blank page stares at me
pen the words and they might be
ours eternally
Softly piano
on the morning sun's ballet.
The cat purrs, eyes close.

Friday 24 November 2017

Bronzed and rippling.
Flowing on the ebbing tide.
Fossilized moment.


Spider days dying.
Each loving touch still startling.
Death, where is thy sting?

Trapdoor words unhinged.

Trapdoor words unhinged.
Hung by the neck until read.
The pen is mightier.

Thursday 23 November 2017

Interview on Radio Wales


Catch up radio - interviews start at 34:50 with mentions of Jim the Swim and my piece chatting to Jason Phelps starts from 42:00







Sunday 12 November 2017

Dusk the poet’s muse,
fill my pen with harlot ink.
Writer of the storm.

Saturday 11 November 2017


Deep within your arms
I whisper that I love you.
Weightless in freefall.

Sunday 5 November 2017

Warm light, book on lap.
Twilight draining down the day.
Poets are afoot.

Cat on a cushion.
Sunlight pressing on her fur.
Autumn levitates.

“as” and “like” don’t use.
Let emotion light the fuse.
Explosion of words.

“as” “like” shorthand for
cork in the inkwell of mind.
Let the ink blots speak.

My words skim like stones


disturbing calm lakes of mind.



Ripples in memory.

Saturday 4 November 2017

My hand upon you.
There, there. All fine now my love.
Cat twitching pounce dream.

Wednesday 1 November 2017

Caitlyn, cariad,
take my genie magic kiss.
Ere the dark has need.