Little Sundrop

I hope this brightens up your day


Oh dainty little sundrop,
Splashing on the ground.
You play with every colour,
And crispen every sound.

Pretty thing, oh sweetest thing
You gleam with golden grace.
You warm the edges of my heart,
And paint a smile on my face.

Faintest kiss, and oh so brief
But lasting nonetheless.
Your memory left the sweetest taste,
My soul forever blessed.


Five moments

Five moments,
Five beats of the heart.

As every sound and sight
Distinguish themselves
In stark contrast to the night
To come.

Five moments on the edge of time,
To stop and stare into the sublime.
To know what waits when all is done,
Five moments til the setting sun.

Five moments til the creep of night
Will steal all life,
But yet the fight within my soul
Is not yet lost.
For my goal
Is to draw you near.
And in these five moments
I would hear you speak
Of love, of beauty
Of truth.

And together we face the reddening sky.
Together and alone.

Lost in those five moments.


Leave a comment and let me know what you think 🙃

Mountains Tall

Another poem from my poo collection.

Mountains Tall

Mountains tall and craggy hills
Are gifted by the gods.
And lumps are added to the top
In earthen, earthy sods.

Peaking high above the sea,
They yearn to reach the sky,
And shudder and shake as soily sisters
Fall down from on high.

The void above their only sight,
Their holy birthing place.
They sadly weep a single tear
As that void then turns its face.

Now grip to life, my new found friends,
Of lumpy, clumpy mud.
As Neptune surely will descend,
And seek to send his flood.

Ancient Starlight


Ancient starlight
On cloudless night
Plays upon
A formless sea.

Cerulean glow
Now darkest blue;
Bright glow of day
Now deepest hue.

Waves reach up,
Pressed to the sky
And fall back down,
Rumble, and die.

Ancient starlight
Stokes their lust
And curses them
To heave and thrust.

Orion’s sword
And Leo’s roar,
Lift them up
And make them soar,

Then throw them back
Down to the sea,
And wink and blink
With ageless glee.

Ancient starlight,
On cloudless night
Plays upon

Azure eyes.

Ancient starlight

From gods long dead.

My gift to you


My gift to you

Tempered in the
Fires of our lust,
Wrought against the
Anvil of our passion.

Naked hands
Blister as fingers
Curl around
The glowing haft.

Blade held aloft
Before my eyes.
Glowing iron
Dries my tears.

Then pressed down,

Slipped through ribs
To kiss
My beating heart.

My gift to you,
To etch your name
Upon a field
Of scars.

I turn to you
Face racked with pain
Searching for
Your smile.

But you see
My gift to you.

And turn away.

My gift to you,
Unasked for,
But given.

My gift to you
The most precious scar.

A Poet’s Curse

A Poet’s Curse

In creation is destruction,
Every work a curse,
We use words we do not own
So weave a vile verse.

A poet hears but will not listen
Sees, but will not say.
Every sound, we hear as muffled
Every scene, we wash in grey.

A poet’s curse, to look upon
A field of fresh lain snow.
Yet say we saw a world of ash
And swear it was just so.

To hear a child’s saintly laugh
And see his cheeky grin
Yet say we saw a knife in hand,
Blood dripping from his limbs.

Holy beauty in sacred words
That lifts both heart and soul,
To be poisoned by a poet’s hate
And turned upon his own.

Each word a lie, a sin, a theft;
Stolen by the pen.
Hollow words and twisted rhymes
Flow forth from empty men.

The Wolf

Lips parted in a feral snarl,
I smelt the blood soaked air.
And in the time from then to now,
My fangs were brought to bare.

Eyes darting left, eyes darting right
I see the threat draw near.
And as he looms tall in the night,
He gives me cause to fear.

His face a swirl of burning rage
His eyes like burning coals.
And in his arms are flaming blades
Set to take more souls.

Defender of those pure sweet lambs,
Who cannot even speak
And now gaze down, with saintly grin
They bleet
And bleet
And bleet.

As those swords are lifted high,
Ready for the kill,
I look upon my treelined home
And to the barren hill.

To see that woods, my earthly home
Burnt down in holy rage.
To make fresh grass for bleeting sheep,
Whose fears have been assuaged.

Or stand and fight and fall upon
My fiery, flaming foe.
And fall down dead, as sheep move in
To piss upon my bones.

My only crime, to be a wolf
In a world that’s made for sheep.
So close my eyes and hope to end
That endless, mocking bleet.