Country Living

************* When life gets too much rushing here and then rushing there I can think of going back to that place. When the traffic is at a standstill beeps and horns, yelling – where busy feet scuffle and scrape the sidewalk the cacophony is deafening. The rise of pungent food odours mingle with the death

Man With The Coiled Beard

He sits on a chair as old as time itself – a throne? could be. Surveying the world through liquorice eyes blinking away the visions of being caught between this world and the next. Blinking away a tear as the tragedy in all its grimness emerges a tarnished, disturbed earth Could be so perfect… Another

Hello, Old Friend

I’ve dreamed of you high up there in the blue sky illuminating, warming, cheering. Souls awaken at your presence; the earth gives a salute, flowers bloom; pink, red, white, a kaleidoscope of colours, smiles widen. I can feel you on my forearms, my blood cheers as it moves around my body renewed, rejuventated, intoxicated! Snow

Going Home

You know that place that knows you back – You don’t need to explain. It understands those deepest wishes Where you go, it’s there first. Home. That’s the place I want to be and remain Safe, understood and comforted. I close my door and nothing else exits, Or matters! The world is a world away,

If Only

This is me lying face down on the ground, broken, wasted, dismissed, the life draining out of me. But I am still alive, only just. Memories of you waft in and out of my mind. Your face, your hair, your eyes … A smile dances around my mouth, despite myself. Have I got enough strength