The Speechless Sing

7 x 9

2025-02-24T23:31:52+00:00

marmite or marmalade

cordite and carronade

granite with gingerade

luddite or lampshade

zorgite and sexcapade

website as armstrade

erudite or esplanade

respite and reformade

thwaite by twayblade

hessite or barricade

ensuite and readymade

owenite for fairtrade

rewrite in gallopade

stylite and remoulade

azurite or cavalcade

termite in tamponade

requite and promenade

quirite or matchmade

tektite with gasconade

miscite and moonglade

subsite or starshade

offsite till croustade

kunzite and estrapade

marmite or marmalade

3.3.22

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Who are ya?

2025-02-24T23:26:30+00:00

It was our Saturday all together.

Dad, three boys, a city’s expectant roar.

Routines evolving over each season,

a passing movement beyond keeping score.

Match stories full of laughter and despair

mythically pressed into folklore, and drone

the names of heroes and their deeds inspired

by a rumble of hope, or long drawn out groan.

Dad’s home now, seat taken by our daughters

texting selfies amongst eager strangers,

as the world gathers to watch magicians

conjure goals from intricate positions

and discover family joined together

by the earthy sound of boot on leather.

21.2.22

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Aldermoor Lane

2025-02-24T23:14:56+00:00

Aldermoor Lane

There is a bend in the road

where once a lane meandered

between hedgerows, gently following

the curve of the land. And, (where now,

we wait for traffic lines to crawl onward)

a gate quietly opened into a meadow

filled with life-giving cattle pasture,

shared with dragonfly, dung beetle,

planthoppers, woodlice, weevil, larva,

foxtail, lady’s bedstraw and buttercup.

There is a bend in the road

where generations rushed through

wrought iron factory gates clocking

in to build transportable life. Growing

Snipes, Hawks, Pigs - access to pastures

new. Until, soft seeds blow into a brownfield

filling with ruderal herbs, scrub; habitat

beloved by bee, wasp, wagtail, slow

worm, common lizard, newt, orchid,

rodent, goldfinch, linnet and kestrel.

There is a bend in the road

where boy racers test tyre-grip

accelerating over fresh tarmac. Where

cartwheels once jolted, we like smooth

traction as we await our familiar entry

alongside suburban imports. Where

pigeons breed under solar panels, and

turdus urbanicus nests in white laurel,

beside sparrow, starling, spaniel feeding

on mowed lawn, by a gently charging Leaf.

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Previously published in http://www.placesofpoetry.org.uk/poem/100001485/

and Here Comes Everyone: Green Issue https://hcemagazine.com/product/the-green-issue/

3 cubed

2025-02-24T23:51:37+00:00

3³

Mistletoe

I thought it was where the crows lived whilst

looking across the horizon anticipating trouble,

seeking landfall, plunder, gossip with piracy; but,

it seems this brawny orb is feeding from the host tree,

stories circling its stems; fertile berries feeding

Taranis thundering along the trackways; lovers wait.

Now a raptor flies, the chariot unmanned, stealthily

sliding past unseeing watchtowers to deliver coercive

combat air systems. Scavengers pucker their lips.

another thing, it doesn’t need to be so binary, either/or,

this/that, it could be a stained-glass ribbon flowing

across the tide-line path crunched by serial footsteps

treading beyond our ken. Or three moments where myths

cross, retelling some old misunderstanding about them,

their kind, our folk; where we blend/manipulate/disguise

truth with layers of belonging. So, pause at grief’s worn

crossway to swap tears, be wrapped in garments threaded

with gleanings of displaced kin; rebuilding again, perhaps.

Soiled

Spit it out! The muck forced into mouths, spluttering

as oaths, the toxic mucus crushed up nostrils, specks

rammed into eyes held face down in rotting silage

decomposing matters consigned to forgotten shelves.

Shake it off! The slurs, slights, sneers, hostile sideways

glances peering through layers of smutty, grimy silence.

Turn over! Let fresh ideas settle between toes, deepen

under fingernails as organisms re-nurture and history

grows goodness again … ashes to ashes, dust to dust …

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First published in Spirit of Fire & Dust https://fireanddust.bigcartel.com/product/spirit-of-fire-and-dust-anthology

Ice Wind

2022-03-04T00:41:16+00:00

Ice wind

hits brutally, whipping rumour around the Beacon;

across the eastern plain, grey cloud smothers debate.

Blessed are you who weep now,

for you will laugh.

Collar up, scarfs tight, thermal beanie pulled hard down,

glancing East and South; caught between two ill-winds.

Woe to you who are mocking now,

for you will mourn and weep.

On the borders, white noise whispers chilled warnings;

to the north, numb blue lips discuss choked silence.

12.2.22

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Predator

2022-03-04T00:35:18+00:00

Predator

I wait. Body still, eyes scanning

timber shaped onto meadow

across long shadows. Watching.

Behind, bare trees merge in

to ochre, caramel, cinnamon.

I wait. Body still, eyes scanning

until, with a flick, a lift, a sweeping

of long limbs; I shift down the line

across long shadows. Watching

the way neighbours gather to begin

a fresh survey of the butchers’ ground.

I wait. Body still, eyes scanning

beyond sunlight steadily rising

as amber, saffron, yarrow beams

across long shadows. Watching.

From the field beyond, a lonely figure

emerges oblivious to another presence.

I wait. Body still, eyes scanning

across long shadows. Watching.

2.2.22

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To Dad

2022-03-04T00:27:21+00:00

To Dad

Come over, we’ll memory-mine,

catch the match, share plans

on researching our bloodline

and forget the vagaries of the mind;

the failures, blanks, lost moments.

Come over, we’ll memory-mine

like we did with Gran in seventy-nine

strange stories, we didn’t quite believe

for researching our bloodline.

So often lives were intertwined

with romance, laughter, greed.

Come over, we’ll memory-mine

and catch where John Hogan declined

the truth and made it hard to give talks

on researching our bloodline.

A dram of Auchentoshan will help

remember the taste of home. So,

come over. We’ll memory-mine,

catch the match, research bloodline.

27.1.22

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@60

2022-03-04T00:10:28+00:00

@60

The first complaint is from the arch to the big toe, a dull

mumble that awakens calf muscles not yet ready to rise.

The lower back is next; a right jab, then a left, but bladder

is insistent, “Move, move, move!” Together they roll sideways,

wobble upright (knee clicking) and stumble, stagger across

the floor. Piss flows; lungs croak a reminder that a spray

will ease asthma later. For the moment the tourettes tic

tiredness monitor rests. And the eyes can’t read any of this.

Yet, at this age it’s not too bad. Developed more for comfort

than 5k splits, we can stride across the miles, or labour

in solid bursts of energy. We can laugh, gameplay, throw out ideas

that look to the future, compete with quick quizzers, wrestle

a wordle, and wonder at the complexity of life. And still, her body

snuggles into mine, curves shaped perfectly for one another.

21.1.22

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1 2 1

2022-03-04T00:27:01+00:00

1 2 1

10.1.22

Well worn path, where each boot has left its mark in the mud.

The weekend rain has gathered

and pilgrims are faced with slosh or squelch.

11.1.22

Damp, overcast, not yet dawn. The track that was thought

to be there is lost in time. Stalled trampers peer

into the undergrowth looking for deviation or diversion.

12.1.22

A frosty welcome amplifies each distinct blade;

creating crunch under every footstep.

The dark clay remains preformed, unreformable.

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1.1.22

2022-03-03T23:53:52+00:00

1.1.22

new-year

new-hoose

new-trails

new-trials

new places to lose four bunches of keys

new-rooms

new-desk

new-drafts

new-craft

new places to partake in slow afternoon tea

new-plants

new-rhythm

new-moments

new hills inviting long muddy phrases to run wild and free

new-sparks

new-names

new-friendships

new-mindslips

new rivers of unaccountable lies

new-hopes

new-plans

new-stumbles

new-ends

new maybe’s, ifs and perhaps

new-questions

new-shoes

new unsustainable views

new-pondering the where’s and the why

new-packing

new-longing

new unrecognising the fear that holds us firm

new-circles

new-cycles

new cultural-horizons

new quivers to hold auld lang sine

new-glances

new-scents

nuisance

new lines to greet the clamour of bells.

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