so build the gallery

we’ll hang

such pictures

colour walls

with hues

too seldom seen

we’ll bask in beauty

found around

so help us

painted scenes

from every place

we’ve ever been

we’ll daub

and dwell a lifetime

ever open



discounted cost



in all its splendours 

so much gained

such sharing

never lost


at the pictures

that we’ve painted

we’ll wonder why

we ever thought

to store


under cover

will astound us

we’ll pull bricks down


never more

a painted vault instead

with sunsets


days ending

then beginning

once again

with paintbrush

in the hands

of many

we’ll wake and see

true beauty



Mirrored Images

his clouds became him

gave a gravitas

to shallow depths

his furrowed browline

suggested thought

where he had no thought left

his timbre speaking

that certainty

of nothings that he knew

all delivered

as if every word he said

were always true

his false bonhomie

pretended humour

appealing to the mass

aggrandised buffoon

no heavyweight

a welter of his class

a tangled hotchpotch

of bits of this

and little bits of that

a foppish foolhard


total absence of eclat

his stilted byline

pretender, poseur, politician

ponce for hire

substance lacking

mere mirror of each other

unfit for purpose, fakers, little liars