Droplets of water are falling
through the warm sky, making damp,
not wet, clinging to the air
Plants are grateful but I am sad,
I do not to see the Fall

It is not just the season makes me blue,
my soul is heavy, so my heart is dread
Of coming winter, darkness, cold
I wish to sleep, and wake no more


I cannot beg the sun to stay
it is the earth that moves away

The night will be as long as this day
so sadness fills me as I have to greet th
e Fall
my garden has still some blooms
the shadows are long, the webs abound
season of spiders, but butterflies still aflutter

I want slumber to take me until spring
I don’t want the winter days, wind with chill
Let sleep take me now, with dreams that are sweet
unless there are days of sun to come

This Day

Part of my heart weeps
September is upon me
summer is dying, fruits are done
Most blooms are finished
a few brightly remain
The shade is cool, but the warmth is there
still, in the sun, but gentler
Now I must start to wear more clothes
cover my tanned skin
and watch the nights draw in
Today, though, I celebrate the sun
This day, not yet Fall


Riots are the language of the unheard

If you are silent you are the oppressor

Broken glass is a thing, not a life taken

If you feel outrage at the riots

you are deaf to the pain

not mattering is agonizing

Too many murders of black people normalized

the rage sears a brand on my heart

I will riot with them, they are unheard

What did you expect? Quit the outrage

murder is not OK, never ever

your silence enrages me, condemns you

Fragment of Dream…

A shard of memory from dreams
forgotten in the whole
no context for the image left with me
just one fragment of a dream

I see it still, in hazy mind picture
you were embracing me,
your head beside mine, my hand your hair
you wept in this haze of dream

So sorry were you for hurting me
no tongue to voice apology
tears wetting my face, I held your head
hoping it was real, not a dream

When you grow weary of deceiving
pulling the wool over her eyes
there is a room for you here with me
we can take it from there, no dream

Published by The Poetry Bar

Purveyors of Death

They arrive each year, by first class

OR in their private jetsSometimes, hundreds of the family

Come to shop in Kensington

Staying in their otherwise empty


Londoners are priced

Out of their own home city
Dictators and despotic sheikhs

Kings of absolute monarchies

Descend upon the annual arms fair

The weapons and armory that

Control nations and crush dissent

The tools of war, which fuel more conflict

Are here to be bought, adored objects of lust

The Grim Reaper attends too, many of him

Gate crashing their sumptuous banquets

As guests of Her Majesty’s Government

Civil disobedience at it’s best, they spread

Information about child deaths, orphans of war

The maimed, the displaced, the refugees

In cloak and hoods, with scythes of truth

During the day, these folk with conscience

Will have laid in the street to block limousines

Or to stop the arrival of an armored tank for sale

They chain themselves together, and then

To a railing or lamp post. The police must

Remove them and this takes some time

Meanwhile, the public look on and learn

Some of these civil protestors are seen in court

Though none yet have been thrown in jail

As some of the weapons on sale for death

Are illegal, banned, or used for torture

Despite this being a fact, no one of the British

Government has been held to account

Strange injustice so great, blood on their hands

Published at Dissident Voice a long time ago.

For My Dad

For My Dad
Transparent skin on your long fingered hands
I didn’t notice before the same hands as mine and I belong
Not in slipping sands, alone, but from you, made by you
And I realise your flesh is less and veins blue are seen
Under the beauty of your frame and so I realise with tears
We are the same

Each day that I don’t see you there is a fear I won’t again
And that is too much pain for me to bear because of death
Visiting me long ago and I pushed my face against your neck
No letting go, wanting life, wanting you to never let me fall
You carried me

Your eyes still smile at me and humour from all my life is near
I make you laugh despite my fear and swallow the rising wail
Of grief untold, not yet borne, but dreaded though I steal the time
That still is left to us to share. I hold my breath and do not dare
To go far from you. I hold your hand often cold and want be told
Death is not near

I’ve known you young and middle years you never changed
Or spoke untruths. You walked and walked for search of solitude
But now I will not let you alone I will not leave you to the world
That in your head baffles you and yesterday is forever gone
If I could bear it in your stead you know my love for you understood
And I am still your little girl sat on your knee

Bournemouth Poetry Wall 2013