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July 5, 2017 - A poem about Cosmicity, Age, Lyrics

This Clock Is Never Wrong

Don’t want to know if I’m falling apart
Closer to the end than I was at the start
Busy chasing fractions in the halves
Silver embers dulled inside my heart.
As if hands of mine hold all I’ve learned
Despite the many stones unturned
Tempting me to walk, between and over paths
Make memories, not photographs.
And if I deny the arms and hold of time
This metronome that once was mine
Sending pulses to some different drums,
Awaiting beats as yet to come.
As thoughts race on to ticker tape
Passing plans that lose their shape
Telling me I’m shooting arrows at the fog
Snatching diamonds from the bog.
And you can’t pick days from seasons
Expecting them to offer reasons
Remind me the turn of ways and means -
All just fades between the scenes.
When I’m chasing halves of fractions
As embers cool from their inaction.
So don’t tell me if I’m falling apart -
If I’m close to the end, I’ll just go.
Back to the start.


February 15, 2011 - A poem about Age, Lyrics

Three Patterns of You

Remember when you took delight
in everything you ever did
the slightest thought a dream,
like pebbles splashing
in the stream.

Remember when you loved the night,
and music reached to where you hid,
standing out but in the team -
each day another

Remember then, now years take flight
from dragons and the tasks they bid,
with pull of age’s scheme
come slowing ways,
it seems.


April 23, 2009 - A poem about Age

Acorn Heart

but not bent -
that’s me.
I don’t want to be old
but I want to be wise,
Don’t care.
I’m creaking
like slow oak
my sap goes sallow
on its way.
Even now,
I’m speaking
with drying croak
but unbowed
still not bust -
at least I’m growing,
and thus,
I’m sneaking
into night
and slow moon rush
over ground and into loam
must follow down,
to hushed earth
to shallow breaths
to closing eventide.
I’ll wander on
with feet of clay,
but part of me,
I’ll leave today.


March 29, 2009 - A poem about Age

Old Circle

I was reminded to smile more
embrace embraces beyond doubt,
let natural ways be natural ways,
let chance be left to chance.
I was reminded to forget -
the where and when,
the who I may become.
You showed me, we are stones
weathering the way
holding on to the hill,
but rolling over time and ills
towards this place. together now
without pride nor answer
I am again reminded to smile,
once more.


January 19, 2009 - A poem about Age

I’m living in the Now

My shoes
feel good today
not like yesterday
softer more natural,
more me.

my toes felt
like they didn’t belong
truth had to be.

Got this feeling now.
I’m living, in the now -
without sum towards
one, and other suns
and maybe some.

Today I love
my shoes -
these are ones
I want to


February 1, 2008 - A poem about Age, Lyrics


I looked
to the funeral trees
for they felt dead like me
naked in the winter breeze
I turned
to the funeral trees
though they seemed black to see
wretched lost and born of thieves
I walked
to touch the funeral trees
as they stood in sombre creed
with a bond to spite the freeze
I fell to lay
with the funeral trees
and I watched them change
and I saw them grow
then soon I slept -
for gentle were
their pleas.
I dreamed
this song of funeral trees;
and time is now,
to unfurl


October 16, 2007 - A poem about Age, Lyrics

Where he goes.

A man
needs a shed
takes the clutter
from his head
lays it down
on musty beds
tight against the edge
stained but only
partial red
a man
needs a shed
it takes away
his heart of lead
a place to dwell until
the world is pure
and nearly
with creosote
and sodden pine
with scattered pins
on earthy weathered twine
all friends within
a secret place
to mine the mind
a space where men
have always fled
and every man
a shed.


September 19, 2007 - A poem about Age, Lyrics


And the cells
in my eyes
are twitching
like flies
and the wells that
now rise
sink constructed
and the yells,
thin like ice
and the wails
and the lies
are you feeling like I?
can you bother
to try?
the cells
in your eyes
are twitching,
like flies.


May 25, 2007 - A poem about Age, Friendship

You remind me of how I used to be.

You took the path
and I rode the motorway
in comfort got there quick
driven not by me
You shook the ashes
and I switched on the T.V
feet up late night squinter
sofa fugged and beat
You looked the way I did
and I looked back
creak neck creased
money almost spent
threadbare slack and given in
I once mistook you - I’m sorry.
Remind me how
I used to be.


January 1, 2007 - A poem about Age

Another Year

Happy new year!
Said the new
But what of the old
Thought I.
Isn’t it great?
We’re never late
And so felt the few
But nought
felt I.


September 21, 2006 - A poem about Age


Bring ash of dawn
Where honour has no moon
As Lunar marks my heart
Of rising dust and crack’d lawns.
All sing in cached yawns
All shake the greying swans
On hiving rust and stack’d pawns,
I stare on days gone far
Too soon.


September 29, 2005 - A poem about Age


Watch now before you blink
Don’t miss the twinkling shards,
The spin against the water’s cloak
No number counts these thoughts you think.
Catch now the roaring chains of light
Afore this smudden dull of winter night
Before our afterwards of summertide
Such ancient thrills that now evoke,
Must fade like silvered ink -
Return the borrowed hours
Masking season’s interlink.


September 26, 2005 - A poem about Age

Now I Regret.

The beds not made,
and dusty sills,
the washing-up and
headache pills.
The harshest thoughts
for smallest ills -
like huff and puff
on aching hills.
The words not said,
of things undone
from plans not won,
to songs unsung.
The wasted time
like chastened sand
clutching grains
that fall through hands,
The journeys home
with too-few smiles
the bags I carried
over counting miles.
And all of the above,
is not enough.


September 6, 2005 - A poem about Age


My heart was a sea-cracked harbour wall
Where once young legends lept and fell
In macho dare and banished care
In acrobatic grace and boastful tell
That knew not well of rocky layer
Below the lowest touch of tide
Below the coldest shock of blue
Still hearing shouts of youth
Amidst the seagull cries
That circle old men’s eyes
I watch for catch of sea
And sigh.


July 26, 2005 - A poem about Age

And We are Lost.

needles spun
from north to south
talking circled hope
and pushing on
like rivers run
from fount to mouth
discarded ropes
below the sun.
And all things done
when we were young
on scattered slopes
now end before
they have


July 22, 2005 - A poem about Love, Age

Sway of Older Love.

It started,
with a cursor kiss
and keyboard strokes
before they clicked.
Then whispered nights
became the safety net
that fixed the breath
of teasing swoon
and furtive sighs.
But these,
weren’t young fools
or sweat-soaked youth.
No, these souls
had learned the dance before -
a thousand times in fact
it should be known.
And every step
was shared.
So they danced.
They really danced.
Not just in notion, nor theory -
but like fiery molecules,
rolling in energetic flux
like downhill streams
rushing to sea,
in synchronicity.
Treading dreams
of flowered sway and
waltzes in the shadows
behind St. Wenseslav’s horse
they whirled and flitted -
not wondering where hours
roam or care to go.
And that was that.
And they both knew -
the moment when
the dancefloor


July 18, 2005 - A poem about Age, Lyrics

How Will You Know?

When all your words are voiced outloud,
And every leaf is sketched and proud,
With every nod amongst the crowd
As shuffled air inside a cloud.

When you count totals of the days,
And mark the notches in your ways,
With charted limits to your gaze
As mitred pace in things you say.

When all goes back into the box,
And wheels spin hard against the blocks,
With silence before aftershock,
As melting ice amongst the rocks.

How will you know?


July 1, 2005 - A poem about Age


that dulls.

A selfish air
that doesn’t care.

Rattling me.
Knocking bones.
Cooling heart
like ice sirens
smiling before
the freeze.

Am I so empty?
So… spacious inside,
Why let these fronds
of discontent
take fingerhold

Such spiteful things
thrive in unbound air,
and clutch and ride
on doubts we leave

Was it you
that started this?

Was it you that passed
through me?


June 16, 2005 - A poem about Age, Friendship

Above All This.

Only when the glimmer ends
Will we pine for shinest moon
Then gone will be the argon sky
And footprints in the light.
Only when the clouds contend
Will we wrestle grey cocoon
And gaze in open barreleyes
At fortitute of atoms bright.
Only when the stars descend
Will we soar yet soul marooned
As tethered flashes leaping high
Like lost balloons in age’s flight.
Then alone, and only then,
Will we know friends.


June 3, 2005 - A poem about Age


Poorly fish,
gravel stilled as he now is.
Despite the occasional flurry,
the current that used to buoy
now pins his tired body down.
Flat-finned and waiting, he lies
patient for the quietened sand -
perhaps, remembering sparkle
and bubble rise of leaping youth.
And I too, recall this golden flash
amidst the world it swam within.
And we both now wait for the end
as I watch and will him to the rise,
to fight for food and light -
to health and extended life.
But now, all he knows is this;
A fish that does not swim,
is not a fish.


May 20, 2005 - A poem about Age, Nature

British Summer Time.

It’s time to re-arrange the coats and shoes,
and it troubles us there are some we never use.
Especially now, we’re on the cusp of sunny days,
gone should be Wellies and brolly stand ways.
Soon, it’ll be time for birdsong chime
and jaunts, and hushed marvelling at the climb.
We’ll sit at the top of the hill with beer instead of rain,
watch people flowering in their saunter up the lane.
A time for sleep and softkissed breeze,
evening pored with dreams that race like bees.
And on towards the half-eyed chase of dawn,
we’ll tip-toe over dewsoaked lawns.


May 9, 2005 - A poem about Age

Doldrummer’s Tale.

There is a place
of windless sails and wing-clipped wails.
An airless space of slackened time
like old corroded twine
tethering heartbeats and nobled spirit.
A place where muted calls of fate
becalm the soul embalmed by ancient fronds
of ice-dipped hope that mystify the telescope
on age’s sky - where once white lions
pounced and played and roared
to memories and shores
of a youth that never
could be ours.


April 18, 2005 - A poem about Age

Clockwork Heart.

are we allowed?
How many ticks and tocks
of nature’s arms will subdivide
the days and nights when we collide
to ponder beats of life that mark
the turnaround to end of dance and song?
No answer for you now, my friend - I have stopped the count.
And as the final levers fall, within I come to realise;
It - won’t - be - long.


February 25, 2005 - A poem about Age

O ‘ Women of a Certain Age.

Bear the ills of weary world,
Know the creep of quiet rage,
Feel the smudge of youth to old,
And smooth the grain of age.
Carry high past ways of youth,
Raise smile-worn weathered flag,
To shoulderhold the uncouth gale,
And navigate the rocky crags.
Know well this turn of time -
Hold each minute like a tiny jewel.
Begin again the spring and wind,
Then win prize of age’s tired duel.


February 1, 2005 - A poem about Cosmicity, Age

Yesterday Tomorrow.

Time is the leak you cannot fix
Seeping over meniscus edge
Like muddied ice in stubborn push
Slowly notching marks of us.
Plucked like frets and string
Scratch-scretched and resonating
As waves that flow through sky
In search for sands of you and I.
Shorter than a newborn’s thumb
Curled and clutched like tiger frond
Mewed to world and catching dew
Time falls slow on me and you.


November 15, 2004 - A poem about Age


Young for five minutes.

How do you know

how to stand?

Unsteady feat.

What do you know

of the land?

Calmed for us.

How can we begin

to understand?


September 21, 2004 - A poem about Age, Situations


Balanced on cotton thread
with arms aloft - struggling
to catch each word
wishing for the night-latched birds
of tissue bed and sleeping soft,
and back to life normality.

She says;
“Come, fly to me”.


September 14, 2004 - A poem about Age

Back Through the Memory Hole

In the unlit tunnel of your thoughts;
stuffed to the joists with memories,
piled high like mildewed dominoes
or musty blankets under the stairs.
Buckled buttresses struggle, like
tangled roots in cracked terracotta,
bulging from the squeeze and huff
of loose unlabelled circumstance.

You used to dutifully lay down
this priceless cargo of recollection -
comfort-stacking against the wall
the dusty happenings within your life.
Now, shoved-in - no weave or industry;
life payloads crushed and buckled,
shapeshifted by the pressure shove.
Torn by the strongarm pull of age


September 9, 2004 - A poem about Cosmicity, Age


You are too young to touch the stars.
They’ve been put beyond our reach
to keep them clean from naive grasp.
Tissue origami in the space wind
should never be unfolded.


August 18, 2004 - A poem about Age

See My Tarnished Bones

The squeaking wheels
Are sluggish as they rust
The stamp of age scratched
On pitted path that’s wandering.
A line that can’t be thread or cut
Like the tin-dented rings of seasons
Marking joyous turn of the sun
Laughing when I hadn’t heard the joke
Or looked inside the strongarm jar.
In a bleached picture of unglued frame
Naked and kinked with over-use
Glasscracked in the prang and crash
Of hoisted eyes and start agains.
Once again, fresh cotton pressure creased
Smooth cornerered in turn and rough
But now in permanent tuckaway fold
Knowing that I am more than old.


August 4, 2004 - A poem about Age

Rattle of Age

—– withdrawn———

I wanted to write
for someone I know in distress.
I ended up writing about them.
That’s not fair.


July 6, 2004 - A poem about Age, Flesh & Bone

Ache and Wane

I’m not,
looking after myself.
Feels like my head’s been turned
inside out. One eye glued and
squinted like a drawstring bag
staying up until the late time.
I’ve been sleeping like a juggler on call
with fumbling hands that drop the ball.
Seeing steps to come but not gone by
auto piloting through the chore of day
This weariness now comes as standard
for these dry bones who need to rest
just can’t seem to concen ——–


June 30, 2004 - A poem about Age


Some days,
it’s just great
to tilt your head and
let the thoughts drop out.
Listening to the hollow
thud of your own ideas,
tumbling aimless to
the floor. It’s nice
to contemplate the joy
of mindlessness, befuddled
for awhile in a break from
knowing. Every now and then,
taking time out to let all
puddles of intellect drain
from the dome of your mind,
just so you can floss inside.
Embrace the vacumned logic
of perfect dumbness and taste the
sweet soma of its purity. It’s OK!
There’s something wise to be
learned in the beautiful blankness,
and somnolent stupor - the timeless
cleanhanded truth of saying;
‘I just don’t know’.


June 28, 2004 - A poem about Love, Age, Lyrics

Mocassin Fit.

Be by my side for season’s roll
along the years of timeworn hold -
handmade measure of my ways,
moth eared wise but sometimes frayed.

Threadbare in the scuff of life,
such comforts mold familiarity
the things that calm and settle me
over step of weathered days.

And strong stitched path across the years
has formed the jagged shape and fold
of how we travel journeys made.
Companions in the ride.

From footprints where I have been
through stumble here and now,
to stride of what I may become,
my feet are bare without you.


June 8, 2004 - A poem about Age, Flesh & Bone


We yearn
the warm flicker
of her anodyne way.
Between tomorrow
and today - she is,
the sopor to ease all.
She carries us over
deep tribulation thrall,
helping us rise above
the sluice of discontent.
She comes to tighten the
night hatches of our eyes,
with their ever hopeful
hinges of slumber,
so we may look


May 28, 2004 - A poem about Age

Old Age

Here I lie in patient’s well.
Twixt the weal of the hammer,
and the woe of the nail.
Wary of rust stained leaf
and dusk cold ground,
between my restless slumber,
and this shadow’s tail.
The rush of life slowed,
brings forth an other companion,
timeworn through dark eyes,
all dormant torpor stilled.
It is true - he does not come alone.


May 21, 2004 - A poem about Age, Journeys

Map of Doubt.

Tired in the bones of life,
every breath a sigh released,
the traveller journeys on,
no step, a stride decreased.

Mired in the wet sand,
footfall etched in memory,
only recollection’s path,
marks his lost trajectory.

Waymarks of a shadowed fate,
conspired against an open route,
a weary compass held, required,
to heed his map of doubt.

But though navigation end adjourned,
and passage studied slow,
this noble traveller, remains content
to tread the earth below.


April 23, 2004 - A poem about Age

Silent Dust.

Hands of leather, iron strong,
white wire haired and always tall.
Map-faced wise and joyous in the new,
wind spirited, yet quiet,
of the old.

Oh knowing gardener of souls,
patient of storms distilled.
You are deep blooded,
noble eyed,
all seeing all.

No more.