Music, new leaves pierce the sky.
Clouds drifting by.
Forget the winter
And the reasons why
You squandered days.
It’s just a symptom of your
changing ways.
Don’t question why.
Bask in the harmony of sound
Without tears,
But joy profound.
The fears will go.
You had not expected
Another Spring,
But new leaves grow.



Translucent peach and silver sky
At evening as the small birds fly.
Oh! golden, golden, blush of light
Fills the soul with sheer delight.
Changing to rose and palest blue:
A Springtime sunset heaven drew
And painted with celestial fire.
Beauty beyond the heart’s desire!


Waiting in London.
Rain streaked in the chill
breathing damp air.
To the traffic’s din
In a sea of humanity
Clamped by concrete boxes
piled high.
Escape only comes with
night’s darkness,
Wrapped in the warm.
Thoughts can flow
Till sleep, the ultimate
freedom from existence.

Outside, is yesterday’s dream.
Inside, protection from
tomorrow’s inevitable chaos
Despite the filing systems
That people fit into.
Even the homeless have
their label, filed under ‘H’
sleeping outside empty churches
Until the police,
move them on.

Go to the park,
Find its fresh greenness,
The birdsong and the calm, cold, lake.
Run through the trees
until dusk sends you back home
to darkness without stars.
Just endless headlamps
Filed under ‘H’
And the sure knowledge that
you are filed under


Holding your coat by the collar,
Trailing it in the dust.
Raising your face to the sun,
Eyes full of trust.

Sky will be blue forever.
Weeks seem like years ahead.
Freedom from school seems
Like never.
Oh! How the holidays sped!

Now your school mates are racing,
Laughing, jeering aloud.
Some one is always chasing
One who’s alone in the crowd.

Traffic sounds blend
With you running.
There is movement and life around.
Back to school in a city
Where you scarce get change
From a pound.

Years later, this child
Has vanished,
Yet still to the city he goes,
Trading in stocks and ventures
While the pound in his pocket grows.

No longer trailing his jacket.
Dressed now by Calvin Klein.
It seems he has made a packet,
But has everything turned out fine?


She wandered through
The long green grass
With flowers in her hair.
He stood aside to let her pass
And tried hard not to stare.
Blossom flew on the breeze
And touched her rosy cheek.
It wasn’t in him to tease
And yet he couldn’t speak.
She said, “I have many fears.
I’m from another land.
It goes back more than forty years
And is hard to understand.
The sixties were a loving time.
We refused to go to war.
Which our rulers called a crime
‘Though most of us were poor.

Pop music roared through
Every heart.
The young had found a voice
And so I can’t stay here now.
Because I have no choice.
The other time to be alive
Was joyful to extreme.
A time I gladly would revive
When I lived the hippy dream.
How came I here, I do not know
It’s 2018
How I wish this were not so
Or what all this can mean.
May I travel back again
To that time of bliss?”
He said, “I will explain
but first give me a kiss.”

They kissed. The heavens
turned black and the ground
caved beneath their feet.
She cried, “Goodbye.
I’m going back. We never more
Shall meet!”
Was it the Beatles or the
Stones, The Animals or Who
Had captured her with vibrant tones
This he never knew.
He wandered lonely in the fields,
With blossom in his hair.
Not feeling all that Spring time
Just that she wasn’t there.

He looked up on the internet
The rockers of before
And agreed they were wonderful
He played them more and more.
It didn’t bring her back
But it helped him understand
How decades of rebellion
Have screamed across the land.
When he was old, a vision
Of that fair sixties child
Returned to him in dreams
Where she sang to him and smiled.
And though he prayed to wake
In the nineteen sixty two
He found each morning
His dream had not come true.
Yet the sky was a bright
Shade of violet blue.


Bedraggled green stems
Whose ochre bells
And lemon skirts droop
on the snow.
A sign of early Spring
Defeated by late winter.
A crow pecks the iron ground
Whose silver gleams
Are without promise.
A still air hangs mist
Among branches.
Trees tall silhouettes
of ebony as their stretching
Reaches into the cold day.

Prayers for Palm Sunday
Echo from a nearby church.
Children, running, shouting,
laughing under a bluebell sky.
Joyful, though Summer is a long
time coming and the days
are short.
Not for them, childhood
is lengthy.
Let not our winter destroy
their Spring so that
the warmth of Summer
Will bloom again.


No more light.
He has gone.
Gold shines the sun
For us who live on.
There is no sound
That he will hear.
Music won’t now
Delight his ear.

He can’t feel
The gentle touch
Of one who loved
Him so much.
As time passes
Can we know
How to retain it?
No, not so.

Topaz light fades.
Dusk is falling.
The birds of eve
Sweetly calling.
Away sad dreams
Of those we’ve lost,
Till radiant sun gleams
On the morning frost.