Holden Pond

The blacksmith’s hammerAnd the tanner’s malletFell silent here a long time ago. Their calloused pounding handsAnd leather beating heartsNow lying…

The end of the day

Lie me here and tuck me in. But I beg you, do not wake me. Do not bring me round…

An old friend long bidden but forever shy This afternoon, soft-spoken, timid, came by. The impatient hands of the prying…

Some fetch a rake and broom, A rusty dustpan and old brush, Two wooden boards of equal length, And choose…

Day Moon Why do you linger so? A single pearl On a silver plate. Are you a meddling moon Ready…

Austin Princess On Sunday afternoons He would escape with her, To a lay-by where rocky outcrops Ran like mascara down…

Just a bit of fun but it wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t a metaphor lurking in there somewhere would…

When I pulled alongside I heard the thumping start, A pounding so loud I thought It came from my racing…

You broke against The window pane Learning to fly. Jumbled jackstraw Wings, falling In crumpled silence. We watched from Gilded…

I look tired My face is an old cardboard box Of discarded saucepans and pots Destined for the garage, charity…