She Is Ocean

what draws mankind to her breast
for she offers no man rest
upon her flesh our offerings
in sacrificial promising
are but discarded to the dark
and cast ashore once pulled apart
in the tempest of her heart
yet ever must our love impart
the passion’d spiritual devotion
for she is mother, she is ocean.

The Uninspired Day

dim is this next day revealed
bone grey hued in the half light
will its fertile promise be revealed
or lost last to impotent night
the quiet skies bear witness not
to what the hours ahead may bring
and as I dwell upon this thought
from naked trees a small bird sings,
her hopeful, pleading sweet refrains
raise the maudlin heaven’s still
so perhaps it’s not in vain
to wait upon this next day’s will.


these are no prince’s jewelled lines
nor fancies from a poet’s mind
yet still each sound is gently cared
as I, the tinker, work my words
in hope and faith they’ll be held dear
and fall with grace upon thine ears.

this is no prayer or edict high
no elegance is here implied
but simple rhymes where they belong
to give but shadows of a song
which if dropped finely hopes the chance
that may incite your hearts to dance.

so please forgive poor metered form
and place not on these stanzas scorn
this ode, this poesy I have told
is but the joy from in my soul
and has no beauty save it’s now free
to find its way,
from me…..to thee.

The Croft

aside the hills
the stones relayed
their histories
in moss, decaying
their broken dreams
lay scattered there
as parnassus flowers
took the air

I sat awhile
and mused upon
where the hopes
and loves had gone
to leave these walls
in such decline
as testament
to life resigned

yet come what may
my thoughts had brought
in my resolve
they came to nought
I could not solve
the reason why
that in such heaven
dreams had died.


he comes today to play with fire
embraced as he was by richest airs
that fuelled the flames of his desires
burning away all of the cares
which innocent propriety
set in his conscience deep
but now in thoughts incendiary
his better angels weep
for today he comes to play with fire
lit of a passion’s demon’s spark
to see him tossed upon a pyre
so tumescent in the dark
that never will this fire abate
until he is with her flames sated.