On barrier reef

And rocks around,

Lost and damaged

Souls are found.


Shipwrecked there

When vessels floundered,

Gallant galleons

Pirated, plundered.


Bodies sank into locker

Where Davy tends and keeps.

Souls released to other element

Drown, they would, in deep.


So weaving in and out each crevice,

Howling to the gale,

Separated souls from corpses

Scream. No arms to wave or flail.


A mist rolls in, envelops,

Captures and absorbs,

Rescues deserted entities,

Soothes essence without words.


Carried out beyond the waves

Above the ocean blue,

Soaring seamlessly to find

And bring each one to you.


Along the way just one or two

Drip and drop from inside fog,

Dissolved into the watery one,

Lost to unknown God.


Rejoined with flesh, they gasp for air,

Mr. Jones will smile.

He’ll let them suffer agonies

But only for a while.


A mighty roar and awesome wave

Will crash against the shore,

Deathly ones expelled to earth

To try to search for more.


Reborn again to airy light

Lost souls in body pieces,

Searching, crying to the night

Till peace, at last, releases


To each their own fulfilment,

Each plan and every goal,

Endeavour, search, illuminate

Till one day all be whole


And entities and essences

Will join in one great mass

Diffused into etheric plain

As gracious ghostly gas


Ignites the love all shared by one,

Explosive in its nature,

Whirling whorls of fiery power

Such souls, all one, in stature.

Possible Dreams

Each shell on the seashore,

A possible dream.

Lift it and listen,

Hear all it has seen


Of lovers entwined

On the sand in the night,

Exploring in darkness

Sensual delight


Of kisses so sweet

All tenderness felt,

Hearts pound to waves motion

Instinctively, melt.


Of touch in the sand

Where grains wash away

But passion and love

Forever will stay.


Of mermaids and men

And lusty portrayal,

Weaving together

No lies, no betrayal.


Of sharks in the deep

Where cold water flows,

Of destiny’s rhythm

Not one soul knows.


Only shells on the seashore

And the stories they tell

Hidden on a beach where

Rollers rose and they fell.


Empty apart from grit

Some may grow,

Revealing a pearl

Of wisdom to know.


Listen quite closely,

Their stories convey

A message for living.

They learn while we pray


A plea to the heavens,

A song from the sea,

Whispers of wonder

For you and for me.

The Siren’s Song

Harken to the siren’s song,

Calling forth now, ‘Come. Belong’.

Though tempest sea does rage.


In melody she sings out true,

Awakened heart from ocean’s blue.

Empowered words assuage


Memories that fade at last,

Submerged in cleansing sea-foam blast,

As since creation’s age.


Portentious dreams awake inside,

Where love fears not, nor seeks to hide

But battles still they wage.


Akin to fear, is love so lost,

Refuse and measure what the cost,

Trapped in sunken cage.


Lifebelt thrown to save a heart,

A mind and body, siren marks

And, feelings, tries to gauge.


Eyes will seek inside that soul

While stormy seas do thwart the goal.

Howling winds enrage.


Shipwrecked on the shore of love,

Receive this gift from up above

As God and man engage.


The siren’s song will wreck your ship

But cargo will she save.

No soul will perish at her words

Her song, road golden, paves.

Growing Young

Something in my body quivers

It’s lurking there

And gives me shivers.

I’m scared to question what it is

For fear it runs away.


So armed with map and guidance book

And torch

I’m going to have a look,

Investigate what’s going on,

Discover if there’s something wrong

Or if it will come out to play.


I remember feeling this before,

I was younger then,

A different door

For feeling thus, I can’t explain

Why they’re returning once again.

I hope they stay.


I think an alien lives here

Eating chocolate

Drinking beer.

Chocolate’s always to the good

But beer I’ve never understood.

I might give that a try.


I feel my bod is quite remiss

To not explain what all this is

But all these things I go upon

I feel I might be growing young.


Video reading Growing Young

Sensual Awakening

Sensual awakening


Fingers roam lightly to explore caves of darkness,

Unseen except in meanderings

Of thought

And phrase.

Eyes burn into darkness,

Illuminating souls

And sweetened goals.

Tastes of molten liquid fire


And scented cores seek


Senses all invoked thus

We feel our journey’s way,

Listening to heated breaths

That cause limbs and hearts to sway.

Explore the Night

Awake again at 4a.m.

New disconcerting routine,

Disturbs my equilibrium.

What can it really mean?


Alert in mind, I light and write,

Fast and furiously,

While body, eyes demand more hours

In unconscious liberty.


Expel the words, take down the notes.

Try to keep it legible.

Later on today, I know,

I’ll make it more intelligible



Except this one, it came to me,

Not at 4 but half past three!

It’s going in my post right now

As is. Insomnia is such a cow!


I never used to wake at all.

I slept and dreamt till wake-up call.

And now I can’t get through one night

Without waking, writing. And some is shite!


Has anyone an answer to

This problem? What to say or do?

Except. I don’t know. I may quite like

Waking in the dead of night


When all asleep explore their dreams

And I explore my mind.


In understanding others

There is a price to pay.

Sometimes, we just get it wrong,

Dismissed, go on our way.


It’s hurtful when that happens

And I’m sore so deep inside

That reaching out brought you no comfort.

You chose to hide and not confide.


I don’t need or want your secrets,

Your worries and your fears.

I don’t need other burdens.

I have enough to last for years.


I suppose I’m just this person

Who cannot see a need

Without reaching out to offer,

To try to help you feed.


A way of being, a pair of arms,

If you want, a listening ear.

But, mainly, offering love, support

While you cry internal tears.


I recognise this need in me.

It’s a need for feeling needed.

Ignoring doesn’t work at all.

I’ve tried, but it won’t be heeded.


Video reading Needed

Your Voice

Your voice is quite mellifluous

In my imagination

It washes clear across my pores

And takes me to your nation.

It may be one like Hugh of Oz

That melts and quivers knees,

Or could be spoken like a kiss

That touches, breathes with ease.

It could be a Canadian

Or US dialect,

It could be Scots or Irish

With a something in its fleck.

It could be just my hearing

That warms to accents so.

It may be just the words you say

That cause ears and heart to glow.