one little life

“CHATCK CHATCK CHATCK”, his mother’s urgent warnings were too late. Little Jack was already dangerously low over the road. He banked, frantically flapping to regain height, but he was inexperienced. An older bird would have quickly landed and weaved between the vehicles. They weren’t moving fast, departing traffic casting final glances at my shadows. So […]

Advertisements

one last poem

Words fall like autumn leaves. A low dying storm, pressured harbinger of winter, irrevocably sucks them from my lips. Golden on my tongue, they tumble in many evanescent colours. Flutters of purple prose scarcely tinge the air as they drop. Zestful orange phrases, deprived of sunlight, wilt untouched. Yellowed poems drift with the breeze like … Continue reading one last poem

build

I'd love to build you a pyramid or minaret up to the sky. I'd put the Taj Mahal in shadow and the Kremlin walls would shake. Let Liberty light her candle and Sydney's Opera House sing. I'm going to pitch my tent on an honest Scottish cliff-top and face the storms of a northern sea.