Today Concerns

As I write, I talk, speaking in to my pen, Pouring words like dew-drops, On to a body of paper ice-sheets cold, With only warmth from my hand, A translation for the singing-trees, Filled with sunshine and reaching upwards, Shouting to the sky and up on high colourful-birds; Sweetly singing : A writer's song. A poet's lasting phrase, Ringing 'decibels' in my ears, loudly drumming, Healing a politician's ache and the 'hearty-fakery', Of the crowds flocking amongst themselves, Like swans swimming with clowns, In a wild-blue lake brimming with prospects. 

England sweet be gently proud, Green forest hills glisten on you like sweat, Woodland wildlife filled with a flurry of flowers, Mellow as air; fresh as any bluebell or daffodil, tulip or daisy, Greenwich meantime as good in night as it is in day; Night more ambient than the sun, Stars twinkle like the eyes of two star-crossed lovers, English nightsky is scented with cool rain,  Morning praise comes in clouds like pillows through sun rays. 

A beauty like none other unrivalled and unmatched she casts love and purity into the world and sees a gloriful bounteous Earth filled with undestroyable beauty.  She feels as if she floats on clouds; As though the wind carries her soft soul wherever she is needed. She finds exuberant faces reassuring her work is fulfilled and her strength grows with every gentle touch.  Her life is an emulation of her mother’s for she realises beauty is within. Everyday she thinks of her family and close friends and restores her faith Allah will continually guide her for them and her in a true and right direction.  Her love never fails and her dream for happiness never surrenders. She dreams happiness for people of the Earth and replenishes a thirst for freedom and peace. She sees a bounteous and prosperous future for all humanity.  Her love flows like the tide in tumults and she makes waves in her every move – ...

There are days and times we share I cannot spend, Times and clocks I choose whichever way round, I tussle with nooks and crannies so profound, I know they are as empty as a tiny pin-drop sound. I cherish my love and resent the love-sick sickness, I ran away with God but He has no feet to follow, I sing in tune to both our lives will it turn back around?   Will we save our ever-last stand? Now time is standing still for us, A hallway of memories like a painting gallery, Feelings and emotions swelling up like the Pacific Ocean, How well we counted on each other’s hand, Counting blessings and singing of me twice, Knowing you are only the one I love, From now until the end of time.  I wonder how far time will pass, Before we ever say a word again in unison, Again I am cornered like a lost sheep found, Tick-tock my heart sings a lullaby  goodbye, Rikety and shaky my ...

I see the world standing still, I catch my breath in my throat, Envisioning an ocean crystal blue, Firelights pitched neatly in a row. I see the wonderful hue of sunset, Of you smiling when it goes down, Feeling flutters of a coastal wind, The refreshing sight of you each day. Feelings patter hard as monsoon rain,  Waves circle my feet dug in the sandy shore, Sensing the lion’s strength I hear it roar, No place is better than here with you. I see it burning breaking free, I sense it touching and reaching me, I look over at you sitting by the sea, Unsure I hold true love's key.

Clock strikes twelve,                          Its as old as I feel, I stand beneath firework sky,                        At Millennium wheel, A kiss on new years day,                       Equals all the ones I missed, Your eyes widen in the commotion,                       Bottles cracked and smashed, Feet trampled and voices unheard,    ...

Days I cannot stand, I reach to grab your hand, And find you not there, I know you will be soon, But many times must I count, The stars and moon, Until I see you again.

I am hooked on this picture, Merely of a flower, Nothing special or petite, Nothing quite so intricate, Or sweet, No no, Only a picture of, A Primrose yellow, Vivacious and callow, Filled with life and vitality, Life and the Primrose flower, Compares me to a lulling song, Quaintly restoring my heart, To feel free from hurt, Or Woe or pain or dismay, Or tragedy or fear of anything, Everything is left to be a fight, Not violent or aggressive, But passionate and slight, Like the Primrose flower, Sits untainted and small, Enough to fit in my palm, In my memory uplifting and tall, Like a cherished love, A small babe, Or a lil bird, A thrush or dove, The flower battles, ...

Gillingham the best place on Earth, Where police roam and hoodlums hide, Children scatter after graffiti writing, On bikes and boards to the nearest clearing, A park or forest wherever easier, Its still freezing, wet, and damp, With misery met right in your face. As for Croydon its filled with, Chics and dicks and e’en more so dickheads, The shouts and clouts, spills and tumbles, Bears no thrills in me anymore, I’m bone sore with grievousness, Tone deaf from the knocks, Squinting slyly for no reason. Then as for London town’s rolling cars, Directing signs for lost travellers, Posts posted firmly against mystified walkers, Fences built and windows boarded up. Rubbish bags flung outside disdainfully. Hustle and bustle on tube, train and bus, Pushing, squeezing and sneezing, A man says desperately blurting, “Bust me your travelcard bruv?” “Please!” He screams in dire need, “I’ve been waiting to go home since three! All I need to do is...

Lives intertwined, Coinciding and free-loving, Cartesian law twisting and depleting, Re-emerging and disfiguring, Contaminating thoughts, Poisoning my dreams, Quietens my soul.

I sat with you, At the foot of the bridge, No indecent glimmer, Just shiny scales of a silvery river, Ripe crisp air light brightening, A beat of a dragonfly’s wings, Circles and whips round my ear, Fluttering downward along, The gently moving stream, Zig-zagging electric blue tints, A universe glow with shock-like moves, Stupefying and striped like a tiger’s back, As free and light as a floating seed, Or my voice traipsing in gusty wind, Hovering the water’s rippling face, My soul twists and bends, Just like its flight, I look at your necklace, Sunlight enters my pupils, My eyelids flicker, I am awake in a dream, Not real, not true, or surreal, Paradisal, sublime, nostalgic, Dusty dry toes you dip in water, Wet rings around tips of your soles, We walked far to be here, Across yellow flowery fields, Over meadows and busy wildlife, This country scene is awe-inspiring....