on his grave 

my poem slowly moulders 

into it

 for days

this leaf on my window

burns

 global heating 

it’s sack cloth or ashes

no way they say 

 a leaf

stuck to my window

catches fire

 a tale

holding the cat’s tail

is dozing

languid

with the sun through the leaves

autumn moves me

sun in the east

with the wind from the west

autumn blushes

 horizons close in

as thoughts escape me

recursively 

 falling

in a thousand thoughts

these leaves

 west rain

the leaves are yellowing

it’s time

 wind and rain

listening to Haydn 

pussy cat

 rain forecast 

getting darker by the minute

this dawn

 scrolling

my finger print

a rising moon

at the vets

the leaves are falling

pussy cat 

a crabbing hook in winter

 

 the rain swimmer 

floating on a sun sea

one thousand needles

 the cat is sitting on an indecision

 we try to mend how

we try ~ how we try ~ to mend 

this broken doom

out of the black

the trees take shape

another dawn

 

 benevolence 

that in time the timeless sky

deemed a moonbeam speak

 a love song

sung in french 

makes me cry

 anthropocene 

the endometrium

- period

 after her eye drops

reminiscing with her

sparkling past

 suddenly

a shower of rain 

stops

 long wind long

upon this rough sea

autumn leaves

 leaf wind 

soup cooking

in the rain

 simmering

on the back burner

boiled existence

 talk to me of oils

and i wander aimlessly 

waiting for you

 talk to me of drama and I will over react 

 feeding my cat

her tail a rattle snake

mongoose

 they said there were fish

listening and listening

where are they

 come on ‘en

go on ‘en

cat

 is that a squirrel

or is it a blackbird

the wind leaves

 persimmons

removing the reduced price label

apples!

 shopping 

a funeral cortège passes

in the rain

 leaf wind

there is soup cooking

it is raining

 a stick of rock

licked by a dawn tide

this is England

 a fig leaf chase

but it is of no avail

in this wind

and of course this rain

is driving me mad

 slowly now

rein in the horse

write

 misty dawn

even the air is a yellow

dampness

 rainy day

drinking tea

with my cat

 whoop!

there goes a squirrel

nutting

 swimming 

along a sunbeam 

on a sunday afternoon 

leaf on a web

spinning faster and faster

the cooling month  

 so many black tears 

the last embrace of summer

dead butterfly

 middle of nowhere 

my pee fertilises a weed

serendipity 

 there is a fly

supping at my cut

i must be tasty

 hazard lights

on double yellow lines

my pulse quickens 

 how inconvenient 

the toilet in the cemetery 

is closed

 for sale sign

they chop down the old tree

that’s a pity

 i am so happy

asking the blind shopkeeper

for my comic

 take deep breaths

after my little tumble 

my wife is a nurse again 

 ahh at last

the sun reaches my legs

sofa so good 

 blushing

she looks like the little girl 

in my fist class

 praise the artisans 

silver cane them with top hats

let the lords doff their caps

 childhood 

in the landscape of others

a myth is born

 poetry 

an auction of words 

gavelled together

 autumn leaves

when you’ve seen one

you’ve seen the fall

 an old adage 

waiting on an empty platform

for the last train home

 imagine

a space walk

you can’t

 the path

beneath the reeds

sky high

golden their flowering

deep in their blues 

 

after the storm

watching rage fall away

with the leaves

 shiny rock

many silent feet

before me

 ripples

a leaf falls on a fish

lilly ponds

 in the laundry room

the washing machine is

a sploshing womb

 closing my eyes

it sounds so nicer

the view

 poetry when

one word says to another

i see what you mean

 an old adage 

sitting on an empty platform

waiting for the last train home

 christmas 

the immaculate confection 

of chocolate 

 cataract drops

the elderly lady reminisces 

with bright eyes

 spring’s spring

drinking in excitement 

through a grass straw

 looking up

on the top of the mountain

only the moon

 footprints 

across the wet sand

her bunions

 autumn leaves

how sad the cat looks

or is it me

 giggling giggling

the back becomes the front

falling over words 

 imagine

a space walk

you can’t

 curled

around with rocks

the setting sun

 ancient photograph

i am sure i recognise 

impossible

 funeral ashes

all of my harsh words

so heavy

 a poem written 

splashed on a pebble 

thrown in the sea

 fledged

in the old nest

mushrooms

 a bubble

when the picture bursts

i write

 upon a rock 

in the water gorge

the moss ages

 childhood

when the snows were deeper

we grew out of it

 reddening clouds

an urban fox sitting

as the moon rises 

 on a found sunspot

an old cat whiskerates 

after noon cream

 thin ice

in the early morning 

a poem

tentatively 

moving

 wild swimming 

above white surf

white gulls

 flickering street lamp

a good kick always does it

so my father says

 so beautiful 

yes i know i am

i am a cat

 dappled 

the fallen leaves

of thoughts