Those Remembered Patterned Hills

what of those remembered patterned hills
upon which I once imagined
heroic conflicts of bloodless wars
while driving in a summer’s idyll
to holiday beyond the shores
from one land to the next we travelled
passing the scars of history
that litter still my bosomed home
rendered mute against a lost past
that scattered broken hegemony
which sanctifies this landscape still
as all is framed so beautifully
by those remembered patterned hills.


The Shy Words

the poetry I really feel
remains inside,

on occassion, if they decide
these words themselves
no longer hide.

but if they choose to not be free
please do not think less
of me.

for one day soon as you will see
they’ll all come out

Dream Stream

there are faeries in this brook
who hold my desires under key
so when my pleasures float downstream
the thoughts which build them you can’t see
they keep them safe until the day
I reveal myself to thee
and hold their tongues on my behalf
while I debate what is to be
with each soft dream I dream of you
inner secrets I compel
to the wee folk in the stream
lock them away and do not tell.

Interesting Times

blindfolds will be furnished free
and smelling salts supplied
do not say you’ve not been warned
or act out all surprised
because these days especially
are not like those of yore
you’ll question your own sanity
as you walk in the door
for modern times are interesting
and like the ancient curse
to live in them can cause us pause
and who knows? they could get worse.