Dream Embrace

he awoke to the soft embrace
of a warm breeze on his face
and lay there a while, motionless
lest he should the moment curse
his eyes still closed he held the scene
oft designed inside his dreams
green valleys of a summer’s end
through its pathways he would wend
to her door of promised rest
where his head lay upon her breast
there she would gently touch his face
in this endless dream’s embrace.

My Cat

cat, it’s said, may look at a king
and even ponder the magpie’s wing
in his walk he’ll stalk the crow
his tail held high, his head held low
all things that move and fly and stir
he’ll thread into his fabled purrs
that he relates his tales upon
when the tiger’s soul he dons
but looking at both bird and king
is likely this cat’s everything.

Heaven’s Song

Indifferent and indistinct
the song thrush ayrs to prayers aspire
its voice hid long beyond the trees
a no man’s land of brush and briar
where the gods’ small treasures dwell
apart from he who would be lord
and here their simple lives do tell
among the boughs now green and broad.
Thus apart sit I and strain to hear
the throstle’s hymnal to the skies
and as a kiss upon my ear
her song from heaven seems to fly.

A Simple Memory

calor gas and paraffin
rusting ancient biscuit tins
browning Sutton’s catalogues
pesticide sprayed in fogs
that swirled around my hanging feet
perched atop my makeshift seat
salvaged from an Austin seven
speaks not to me of fabled heaven
but paradise on earth instead
as memory of my grand-dad’s shed
for in this dream is filled with joy
this man remembers as a boy.


the lonesome magpie is I feel
the bird which mostly does reveal
more about myself it seems
oft appearing in my dreams
though not in sorrow like the rhyme
but he’s a joyous friend of mine
so I salute when he appears
not from the superstitious fears
which man in ancient times held fast
from ill omen-ed shadows he had cast
but out of my own happiness
that too my waking hours he blessed.