Category Archives: Poetry

Aquatic Serpent

Copper snake coiled across the gravel path,

Wooden hills cage you in,

Forest carpets of velvet lie,

Crouched near your lifeless kin.

Trails which lead your prey to sleep,

Twist and turn in ancient dance,

The rhythm of your panting tongue,

As your cool blood flows and rants.

For miles your scales stretch before you tail,

The capture in you swells,

Harvest from it life and strength,

The scars and scales your years soon tell.

Quietly shed your fragile sheath,

Life feeds off your timeless end,

Lengths of fire coloured flesh,

Into the earth where we all will send.

Peace to you who lies now still,

Slither from your lifeless skin,

Perchance another sun will rise,

And we who fear will forgive all sins.


Foliage crisping, crunching, twisting

Coloured with mythical brushes

Piercing, freeing and so completing,

Clothing the naked crowd.

Pages crisping, crunching, twisting

Scarred with strange minds,

Piercing, freeing and so completing,

Filling the naked crowd…..

Purple Grass

Colours bleed into my soul,

Stars burn through the night,

Purple grass doesn’t spoil,

Music is a soundless light.

Dismiss the candle’s scent,

The smoke that fills the jar,

Sunlight beams are broke and bent,

Life is not what we are.

Animal noises are our voices,

Chant the psalm to God,

Lips are dry and hair is moist,

Ancient birth by pod.

Swirling sounds and words,

Dance inside the wood,

Creativity this art is so absurd,

Grass not tasting as it should.

My Love

Peace be with you my love,

As you slip away,

Sinking back into the earth,

No longer in dismay.

Hope be with you my love,

As your soul moves on,

Taking with it part of me,

Forever to be gone.

Joy be with you my love,

For now you are free,

Unbound from all unhappiness,

Surrounded now in glee.

Faith be with you my love,

For all is as it should be,

I will see you soon enough,

Save a place for me.

My House

What sits there in my little house,

The smell of burnt wood,

A frost in the air,

The comfort of being swallowed,

Empty and cold – an afterthought.

My house, my house in cold grey stone,

sitting atop a hill of green velvet –

draped in a canopy of leaves and clouds.

I sit curled in a heap on the floor,

skin against wood to feel it’s chill.

Smothered by safety and blue flowered walls.

Not to be moved, never to leave –

I wander still in barefoot delight.

On a winter’s night

With the scent of burnt wood.


In flowered fields and meadows,

Where now she’ll run so free,

Greeted by the friends she knows,

To bring to her such glee.

In glittered gowns to swing and sway,

And dance under the moon-light,

To once again sing and play,

And keep us all in sight.

In starlit strolls along the beach,

Where waves will greet her soles,

All her dreams within her reach,

To seek her hidden goals.

In wondrous beauty and in light,

She will watch over those she loves,

To hear our prayers every night,

And send us joy to dream of.

In grace and poise and beauty,

And sweetness of her smile,

To sit in angelic harmony,

And bid us all farewell.

So now her body may rest in peace,

No longer plagued by pain,

Our minds must now be put to ease,

That we shall meet again.

The Vengeance of the Clouds

Silent observer through the mist,

droplets of clarity distort the reality.

By sunbeams, superficial colours kissed,

the fog within that lets us be.

Touched gently, barely felt at all,

caressing air and the entrapment of blindness.

A helpful cry, a haunting call,

the vengeance to finally rest.