Cease The Day

throw away all the watches 
light the clocks on fire 
shred all the schedules 
time is a bloody liar 

needles and numbers on the wall
show anything but the truth 
right on time – never so
what ought to happen – never would 

resenting those who breathe 
it befriends the lifeless,
Ozymandias became history
urns embellish the present. 

A comment on ‘Ozymandias’ by P.B Shelly and ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ by John Keats. 


The Wooden Bridge 

here is one again 
rocked by the wind 
cradled by the mountains
railings of rope
in shades of brown 
tied by the living 
cursed by the dead 
a wooden bridge 
to reach the springs 
and the fountains

heaven is across 
below is death
don’t look down-
hold your breath
it wont take long 
either way 
so take a leap now
or turn away. 


alpine forests on the hills
speckled with lights-
face a river

the stars have gone
leaving her alone 
bulbs now mock her
for she is dammed-
slave of a master
who was her son

a reservoir of grief
of not the many but one
the greed of some
starts with a flood
devouring those who love too much

alpine forests on the hills
speckled with lights-
face a river

the power from her pain 
has torched the valley 
the light has come 
but darkness abounds 
the peace of yesterday 
will never be found

change is ordered 
it never belongs 
a way of life 
modelled by concrete 
moulded by wrongs 

alpine forests on the hills
speckled with lights-
face a river.

Come Out!

the brutes have taken over.
with thundering threats 
they cast themselves
of the glimmer that comes 
from that imperfect face 
that lightens up the night 
at its fullest 

she does hide. 
in the dark sometimes
only to give us a chance
to shine
when her daughters call
she is always there 
to show them the light 
but not today

the brutes have taken over. 
she has been locked up
hidden away from the world
because she had shone too bright
a wind of change is coming
to crush the stormy bellows 
and to liberate her,
the moon from the clouds
to bring us back into her halo.