as eyes seize it
so many poems
will my mind ever empty
midnight moon
in the castle
smelling the marijuana
across the drawbridge
the cat
a ball of sleep
rats
when i was a child
i had a book of a thousand things
i have forgotten
hand on the cat
i try to start a seance
who’s there
a legion of dead mice
say purrfectly still
poetry pamphlet
halfway through i am reading
two staples on a spine
above the clouds
there are more clouds
then the sky
then the moon and the stars
all the galaxies of the universe
warming up
after a cold swim
real life returns
anthropomorphise
as much as you want
you remain insignificant
these lines
the stretch marks that
belie the city
counting the hours
as blossom petals fall
the tide ebbs
the cherry blossom
streaming in the wind
is soon gone
every morning
scratching the same post
the sun cat
northeast wind
the cherry blossoms snowing
on our neighbours
rain relentless
the monk Oyoguhito walks
between the lanterns
dry stone walling
adding two small wooden blocks
for the sun god cat
taking a nap
a little bit of life
goes missing
just one more poem
and then i’ll read the news
real tears - sniff
the blossoms fall
we ask of ourselves
next year?
rubbish tip
in the long queue of cars
my life recycles
a true window
is where you see what you are
seeing
climate change
the old aphorisms dry
in a flood
walking down the stairs
my thoughts tumble
that i must not
septuagenarian
repeat prescription email
logged on my iPad
too late
the water meadows
are dry
spider
crawling down my left leg
not my right
suddenly
a full moon
look
sardonic
as the language of the dunes
time flies
the tide
always a look out
behind you
the flock
just dust on the lens of life
spit on the duster
truth is
a burning euphemism
quenched with tears
dry stonewalling
we move the stone Buddha
a blackbird visits
whistling back
the birds get annoyed
... and the winner is
drifting down stream
on an up-blowing wind
a twig circles
when the blossoms fall
again we ask of ourselves
where will we be?
uneducated
mispronouncing
intelligence
the wren and the mouse move house
in a land of walls
run down to the necklace sea
and extend your arms
as rocks with lichen
the lavender morning enfolds
our thoughts of summer
in a welsh shawl
the scent of palma violet
the rub of sequins
the pool
is the pool i am
rippling
we are alone
in the footsteps of others
thinking
a saucepan stand
cooking light in the corner
of a morning
corkscrew hazel
sparrow’s spaghetti junction
this that that this way
this castle tower
it is a pain in the neck
just look at it
a glance once given
cannot be taken back
with a smile
cherry blossoms
sparrows continue chirping
as the petals fall
nightfall
slowly the bay takes shape
a thousand lanterns
today
biting on tomorrow
denture fitting
grain with no rain
pestle without a mortar
thoughtless
zen garden
the flow of time
sits
hover fly
the shining cobweb
threads my eye
opening
it is nearly here
spring
rarely do poets have normal thoughts
you’ll not get satisfaction from a man with a small piece of cake
every wave
tearing a flake off
the sea swimmer
see how they hermit
in the big city towns
invisible
warming to a swim
in a sea of dead thoughts
is a cold comfort
at full tide
tomorrow goes a riding
upon the tidy line
even corruption
is corrupted in a
disunited kingdom
the village
pouring into the sea
stops to think
birth then death
may i leave just one poem
over by there
walking to school
the other side of the hedge
sunshine and laughter
upon a whim rests life and limb
a seat
looking out to sea
paperboy
delivering births and deaths
on his cycle
sunny morning
watching a shadow move
sleepy cat
how pale the leaves
through the plum blossoms
snowflakes
a minute’s silence
burning the midnight oil
the poet laureate
SGL2i
dried on the toilet floor
sticky shiny drips
slow music
stroking the cat
closes my eyes
waiting
on a pebbled beach
your pebble
my eye
sutured to your spirit
sings
a frosty morning
the evangelist’s pamphlets
promise sunlight
so many clichés
when do i get to the top
poetry mountains
on a cold morning
be bees on the plum blossom
blue sky pollen sun
reflection
in the flowering currant
a red towel
rhizomes
with their feet in the mud
irises rainbow
in the archeology of the gold mine lies the word sublime
hot soup
super duper
a cold snap
is that snow or plum blossom
blowing around
the weather forecast
cat was out for three minutes
snow shower spring
tipping the ashes
they are floating like snow
is it snowing
above the mill pool
all the torrents of childhood
are turning the wheel
in my log fire
all the blue nights of forest
are rising again
do cats blink
in the middle of my book
she asks me
dreams
unfinished sandwiches
curled at the edges
plum flowers
whiter than the clouds
thinking of summer
painting the fence
the north wind lends a hand
thank you so much
in the north wind
we decide to paint the fence
forthright in foresight
a fallen tree
the path deviates
then carries on
unhappy easter
covid recruitment sergeant
masked priests thank god
oh these buns
cinnamon in um as well
sticky lips
morning sunshine
it is the cat’s time of day
sun sniffing
the cat looks
that is essentially it
looks
dust from Sahara
covering the greenhouses
global warning
flight simulator
alarm and the flaps go back
with the cat’s ears
roaring storm
the sea has many pebbles
i have many thoughts