Selected poems
For Mary Manning
Take my seat Mary, I don't need it, I'm getting off next stop.
May your transition be painless and peace full.
You left an indelible impression on this young, creative mind as my first ever poetry teacher.
The psalms say we may get three score and ten, God willing four score, but in the end we are cut off and then we fly off.
What are our lives but a tale that is told?
Take my pen, Mary, you might need it to say you were here.
I came to St Paul's spaceship to light a candle for you, the countdown until this rocket soul leaves.
I'm going to miss you, Mary, have fun out there. Write me a line sometime, now you're not breathing, just floating.
This cathedral is held up by hollow bones.
I'll always love you, Mary, true mother of all my poems.
I leave by the backdoor of a stained glass rising sun.
Ten good things
Teddy bears with bowties.
Zebra crossings.
Children in the bathtub with bubble bath beards.
Licking a stamp on a love letter sent.
Kissing and other brushstrokes.
Spilled sunlight.
Being tickled at the hairdresser.
Lullabies that mean 'Goodnight baby' and not goodbye.
But shaken eyes, when opened, cry.
Non-contact sport
It's a no eye contact sport,
When I see a girl I like.
She's putting lip balm on her lips,
As the morning scenery slips by like a young child getting out of his pyjamas.
I stare at everyone but her,
Because her face is like a burning sun behind closed eyes.
It's only as I go to get off she looks up and smiles.
I smile back, I've done a few miles with these smiles.
I'd like to peel the pastry off and eat the sweet thing underneath,
I catch my breath like a butterfly in a net.
She's another stranger I'll never know the destination of.
The world is a light globe
The world is a light globe,
A flower bulb.
The world needs to be treated well,
Like a new born baby girl.
The world's deep blue iris,
Is going blind with a virus,
Watched by outer space pirates.
What our money can't buy us is Mother Nature's forgiveness.
Our mother of God,
The moonlight,
The spoon fed,
The mushroom cloud,
The Muslim veil.
Tell me angels
Tell me angels that it gets better.
That the soul gets wetter.
That someone dear to me writes me that letter.
I'm no jet setter,
I'm just God's trusted babysitter.
So many have left her,
So why don't you go out and get her?
Wrap her up in your arms,
Like you're an umbrella or coat stand.
I don't mind being that for her.
It's not