The Plains

Echoes fall on deaf ears

Barreness gives the leaves a voice

For once they are heard

They chatter endlessly

The wind can scream here


If anything lives here,

It lives in the caverns below

In the quiet

In the dark

Millenia pass

The plains remain as the caverns



Wet dripping walls

Or vast windswept plains







The Ships of Newcastle

Behemoth enters the narrow channel

Slow and heavily pregnant with riches and great treasures

It announces itself to all the residents of the Sea side

Tug boats greet it like puppies greeting mother

Dredgers sweep before it like dancers in a parade making the way clear

Eager merchants stand with hungry eyes ready to devour it like ants upon a carcass

Standing in port tapping shoes and wiping sweaty anxious hands down trousers

They await docking worrying for their investments

Wealth drives them

Creating industry

Affluence is built upon them


Unloaded the Behemoth light as the sea air

Leaps back to the large ocean

Set free to to fly upon the waves

Smiling to itself

It knows it is made for vast spaces and long journeys

Wildness is its spirit

But a tame beast of burden it also gently protects its masters and care givers

Swaddling them inside its deep caverns holding them to it’s warm engines

A mother hen

A ferocious bear

A gliding eagle






Blue Whale

The sea soothes

Like oil upon skin

Washing away debris

Water holds a giant mass

Turning heavy weights into graceful elegant beings

Gliding through seas

Breaching in the air

Thunder and spray clash like cymbals as giants return to their stage

They resume their elegant postures

Poise and wisdom in large dark eyes

Viewing the world and the sky from lowly and deep positions

Knowledge about the dark recesses of the deep

Kept secret for millennia

Occasionally peering out to view the fast diminutive beings on the surface

If only they could shake their heads and roll their eyes….

A slap of the tail will suffice

The little creatures can do nothing but flee it

We know its farewell signal

and warning to take care.




The Fox

Breath is drawn easily

Blackened wet noses catch the scent

Sly eyes turn behind for a split second to counter escape

Hearts beat as adrenaline performs as Maestro to all the orchestration

Cards are held tight to chest

Face set

The chase birthing latent abilities and dormant genius.

He shall outwit them all

The Fox grins and laughs

Let the hunt begin….








Desire sits at the front of the cortex

Fragrances waft deliciously from memories

Unsettling the steady

Dreams lie in the banks and coffers of hope

Reality smashing itself against fantasy like glass upon stone

Hope becomes hopeless

Desire refuses to look upon the desired

Love is merited as the utmost impossible by scholars and judges who cast it aside as nonsense and dribble

Love still refuses the bars and restraints of impossibility, hopelessness and judgement

Love beats its drums calling the reckless

Calling for Rebellion

Casting aside the shackles of scholars and judges

It’s greatness found in the ridiculous

Rules set aside

Love settles itself down like a cat before a fire

And moth before a flame

Winter Wind

The wind sits high  and brings cold gusts to shock with force

 Bone clenches

The sun beckons kindly

But the wind threatens

It wins today

Shelter is sought

Eyes peek out of windows

Hope and eagerness

Disappointment and resignation remain today