Lines written in a garden chair

the Schmetterlings
are unearthly things
with lacy wings
of white
It sometimes seems
they could be dreams
left over
from the night.


Songs of Home and Heartache : part one

steel guitaring echoes
of sadness and defeat
when Patsy gave me sweet dreams
in the heart of lonely street
and the needle always caught her
at the start of cigarettes
no matter how I’d set it right
I never can forget
just how those days are beaten in
and make of that boy the man
I tried to fall far from the tree
to find out who I am
all these countless heartaches later
when I’m thinking that I’m fine
I realise like old boy Merle
I’m still drinking yesterday’s wine.


those islands of my memory
upon whose cliffs I wandered
without care for where
the paths would lead
nor on the future pondered
’tis there I sail when dreaming
upon seas wild or calm
from the continents
of daily woes
and in them find the balm
that only reverie of times
succumbed then to the deep
can soothe my mind
come the last chimes
in harbour’s safety sleep