Category: 1. Poetry


I read the signs of love as well
as blind men read a book.
The words don’t read themselves aloud
despite how hard I look.

I cannot smell their meaning
nor feel it with my touch.
To me, love seems invisible,
an air you cannot clutch.

But when with you I know it’s true;
I find myself defenceless.
You torch the sky with love’s hot flare
and leave me gently senseless.



I grab my coat and bid farewell
to friends, the old and new.
A handshake, a kiss; I know which I’ll miss,
“Till next time! I’ll see you all soon.”

I step outside and into the face
of cool refreshing night air.
It’s clear but it bites, compared with inside;
the smoke still clings to my hair.

I join the trickle of homebound people,
their pace no quicker than mine;
theirs and my train are one and the same,
and we’re gifted with plenty of time.

I embrace the ocean of light that awaits me.
Though empty, the station’s still lit,
and there she lies, so silent yet primed;
climbing aboard, I choose where to sit.

I stare, for a moment, out through the glass
and watch as the streetlamps whizz by.
Against the cool dark, they all look like stars;
I’m a rocket, touring the sky.

I flinch in the flickering light that awaits me,
and stumble down steps in the gloom.
The path to my home, I walk it alone.
Till next time, and may it be soon.

The Act

The houselights dim, and so the buzz
of chattering jaws and all the fuss
dissolve within the silent din;
their focus on my floating grin.

The darkened house, the whitened smile,
my grin held firmly all the while,
until at last I introduce;
I love the gasp when spotlights shoot.

My tux complete with handkerchief,
the silver cufflinks tint my sleeves.
I flick my wrist and doff my hat,
and so ensues my marvellous act.

Wondering rose

Like red-tipped darts shot in to fur
of angry polar bears,
the flower tempers winds that stir
and softens biting air.

The field pure white, like life before
the flower pierced the snow.
I’ve lost the one I’m longing for;
my darling wondering rose.

A voice unheard

God gifted me the power
of a cunning way with words.
But what use is a voice if a voice goes unheard?

Like a flare shot up against the sun,
I’m lost amidst the sound.

Like raindrops aplenty absorbed by soil,
I sink beneath the noise.

The wooing of a girl
drowned by a sun-soil crowd;
love’s not heard when lust is loud.

Pan for gold

I cleared my head and now my breaths
were crisp like mountain air.
The lakes, the trees, I start to dream,
and let it take me there.

I pushed myself to greater heights,
the river was my guide;
meandered to infinity,
but always by my side.

The icy-cool was welcome and
though thirst had taken hold,
a shiny silt washed round my mouth;
cupped in my hands was gold!

As quick as was discovery,
the treasure vanished fast.
But beauty had entranced my soul;
that glimmer of the past.

For years I panned through worthless silt,
but as my nights grew cold,
the beauty rose from riverbed,
and now I’m panning gold.


the die
let me see,
let me hear, let me
smell the six.
The square-cut role can set me free;
my life depends on this.

Draw the card and let me see, let me feel,
let me taste the ace. The patterned cards can set me
free; No sign upon my face.

“This one’s for you.” Said I,
and watched as luck ran dry.
My life,
my soul,
my love
for you,
I sold it all to

Counting Stars

Twelve months ago, ten thousand stars
shone brilliantly overhead.
To that array we give our own
to live above instead.

The night never lit so bright
the path to heaven’s door.
It takes more time to count the stars,
for now we count one more.

~ for Annie ~

Beneath the waves

Now summer nights have been fulfilled,
the winter wind brings icy chill,
and in the dark of what was day,
brings with it something far from thrill.

The finest woven plans are frayed,
but held so firm just yesterday.
I lean upon the window sill
and search for light as evening fades.

The sky has lost its night decór
that shone so brilliant days before,
and silence drones with awful din;
a soundless breath, a midnight’s roar.

But I’ll hold tight to turtle-fin
and dive beneath this world we’re in,
for hope has sunk to ocean floor;
it’s weighted down with hate and sin.