Sunday, 1 August 2021

 In The Wilderness

I may be in the wilderness

but I’ve not lost my way.

It’s far too easy 

to keep to 

the road

the dirt road

the straight and narrow

the predictable

way through

this predictable landscape

each second

each minute

each hour

the same as the next.

And I know that

each day 

will be the same

until I stray

until I find a way

to escape this desert

of dust baked sand and clay

sand and clay 

and clay and sand

sun dried desiccated

and deserted 

dressed in it’s orange brown uniform.

If only I could see another way

if only a door would appear

to take me off piste,

a door that I could open

and pass through

into the unknown

where I could

lose myself

wet myself

in a muddy pool

and find the dark or the light.

 Far Horizons, Distant Dreams

Once the light shone so brightly

that time and distance stretched for ever,

the horizon at infinity strung with the pearls

of distant dreams.

And in between

a hinterland

of possibilities

just waiting to be grasped.

But then, as the light dimmed,

time and distance collapsed inwards

dragging the horizon closer

a hinterland 

of rubble

in between,

the spent remains 

of possibilities


or untried.

Only the dreams stretched further

beyond the horizon now

in the fading light.

Soon I’ll reach them

and perhaps discover myself

as part of someone else’s dream.

 The Shattered Glass

The glass has been shattered.

Safely shattered,

with no sharp shards.

With no damage to anyone,


But someone is missing.

Only her absence is revealed

in the shattered glass.

Perhaps she is broken,


like the glass,

but not safely.

If only the shattered glass

could reveal her


If only

the cracks would heal.

 What Lies Beneath

I dug up so many things 

to create my garden

not only rocks

and pieces of slate

but tools from those who

had worked in this difficult land.

I built walls from the rocks

and edged my new pond in slate.

The tools became decorations

to tell the story of the land.

Then I found the tractor,

or so I thought,

a toy 

that some child had played with

dreaming of flat land

with good soil.

Then I looked more closely

and saw it was a soldier 

in the driving seat.

Not a tractor



some sort 

of killing machine

I buried it back where it came from.

It seemed the best thing to do with it.

Wednesday, 28 July 2021


We feel free again

out here on the wild heath

and we’re whirling and twirling

like a dervish

with the devil in us

reclaiming our wildness

that was hidden for so long

when we were

just hanging on

our spirits sapped 

at home alone.

But we’re out now

feeling reckless 

with excitement,

jumping for joy

leaping with faith

ready to go again.

 The Place Where The Stars Are Buried

I’m on my way to the place 

where the stars are buried

under a roof of rain.

I won’t get lost.

I’m following the silver snail

trails and the muddy pools

with the little shimmers of spangles.

When I get there - to the place

where the stars are buried.

I shall dig a little, dig

just enough to let

a glimmer of light out.

Just enough to let

the love sparkle and

sizzle in the light

before it burns.

Monday, 26 July 2021

 Look We Have Come Through

Gather round the camp fire

there’ll be music and dancing later

but first, a picnic!

What a spread!

And none of it from a factory,

none of it well travelled

over turbulent seas

or skies

so eat and enjoy

then we’ll show you

how to make it for yourselves

and after, we’ll celebrate

how we have come through

with such joy.