The Underwater Kingdom

The fishes somersault

Glistening shades of iridescent amber and silver

Like long lost jewels.

And the lake shimmers

Sun dappled with sequins

Belying the underwater kingdom

Which sleeps beneath.

But today is a lively day

With the water reflecting

Every summertime ray

The mossy sea beds the dance floor

The algae in evergreen

An emerald dream

That furnishes the ruins

Of Atlantis’ protected gates.

The current

Wind caressed

Moves the party

Swaying the reeds

Along to the beat

Of the forever lost

Whispers of the sirens song.





The heather spills over

Competing with the other

Violet hues of wildflower

And racing across the countryside.

Who can outgrow the other?

Like the sky high corn crops

That dominate the landscape

I have overgrown,

Outgrown and overcome

You and these emotions

My past demons

Whom I refuse

To sow new seeds

And let them feed

In your favour.

-Now I’m growing with another

Live ivy

We grow together.

I’m overgrown

Free and tumbling

Rolling across straw coloured fields

And into

The Picasso swirled horizon.




Sunset Serenade

My lover is…

My novel

Already half written

Every muse

That every painter

Ever painted

Lives in his soul

And day after day

I find myself

Falling in love with a new part of him

He is my adventure

My pilgrimage treasure-

My sunset serenade.




Painting by Tami Oyler

Keep Pulling on My Heartstrings

Hearts entangled

Reminiscent of a game of

Childhood cats cradle

You create a conversation with a stare

That stops my heart

And lays me bare.

Words are careful compositions

Cassette tapes put together

Through time and mind

But your eyes sing melodies

That clumsy mouths

Fail to muster

-Keep pulling on my heartstrings

I adore every moment of it.

You’ve lassoed my very being

I follow the breadcrumb trail

That leads me to you

Cast a glance in my direction

And you shall become the sovereign of my heart

My very own pied piper

Whose tune I gladly dance.

A man I’d follow endlessly

Anywhere in the world

You have now become

The Atlas to my soul.




Photo by Eliot Elisofon, 1941.

Dinner Parties

Clad in the pale pink light

Streaming in from the utmost window

She cast her eye on the lost souls

Dressed in their best garbs

Hand stitched with secrets

Complete with their own counterfeit

Silver linings

The women as false as their powdered faces

The men as obscene as politics allowed them

In this dated scene

Of a common dinner party

The type found in old Austen novels

The modern calendar

May attempt to state differently

But the number of sunrises

And sunsets

Cannot alter the simple truth

That we are all just performing our civilities

All the while contesting those ancestry traits

That still fester under the surface.



Circus Stowaways

I did the balancing act

Whilst you stood below

A net made of embraces and morning kisses

I was too scared to look down

For the longest of times

Trying to keep it up

Ignoring the tainted vertigo

That like hemlock

Spread throughout

Paralysing my body.

But you ensured that I stayed dazzling

So that when I felt myself falling

I was instead just cartwheeling

Proving the impossible

On that thin wire

That like puppeteer strings

Ensured the final snipping

By those three desolate Fates.

And when I did fall

I did it with grace

Tumbling, feet pointed

A smile still painted on my face

We were circus stowaways

Secretive and perfect in our audacity

As I landed safely in your arms…

… We bowed as they gave their applause.



Painting; High Wire Acrobat by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

Fisherman’s Pier

Dragonflies skid along the marshland

Which foams every shade of topaz

Ripples that make the water dance

As though the stream

Has something to laugh at.

I’m in the fisherman’s domain

Sitting coyly

Observing in the rain.

It’s overcast

Grey shades which paints

A sombre background

For the barges rage

Spitting smoke

Making its presence known

But nature dapples the banks

Painting it every shade of summer lax

Mustard yellows

And vivacious fuchsias

Beautifully composing

A symphony of rustles in the wind

Transporting me to a different world

Even if only momentarily.




Artwork by Dee Evans see more here;


Skin & Bone



A jigsaw of genes


We take it all in our strife.


Human beings

Imaginary and as alien

As the moons and the worlds above.

Skin and bone

Bound by gravity

Prisoners of this world

Take my money

Take my will.


Freedom is a false finders game

A concept we all claim

Governments, parties

Mere pawns

In  someone else’s bigger picture frame.


We live in the past

But never learn from past mistakes

Another dictator

Another deprived nation

It never changes

We’re never in the present

Instead we focus

On the future

And the imprints that will last.

A cynic I am, I know,

But morals? Ethics?

Who really knows,

Who the hell is actually running this show?!

Pull the strings, mimic the voice,

At the end of the day

We’re nothing more

Than skin and bone.



Hidden Treasures


On a lonely island

Surrounded by lifeboats

But nobody cared I was drowning.

Stories appeared

Written in the sand

Whispers repeated through the centuries

Of shadows that surrounded me

The superstitions bombarding

I tell myself

Not to conform to my minds trickery

To grin until it hurts

So I dug a little deeper

And made my own shelter

And they crept a little closer

To the coast before me

But I no longer cared to see

Because in the end

When the war is over

Happiness will be there

Buried beneath

My own hidden treasures

For me to find

And for me alone to keep.




Artwork by Rachel Christine Nowick

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