Shepherd Tones

Chairs have been sitting on me

with jumping beans flashing green,

just sleep and you will see

I can only live what we can dream.

I'm not sorry for my smile

but my bleary eyes say otherwise,

let us rest for just a while

and we can sing to the sunrise.

Lunar Sea/Lunacy

Smoky jonquil hue
concaved and serrated,
concealed by the clouds
softened and sedated.

Intermittent blinks

flashes of ruby red,

guiding in the dark

as sea and sky are wed.

Dulled by a warm blade

veiled in a vapoured gloom,

piercing the nothing

the sunk ship met her doom.

(and so too did the moon).

A September's Sunday by the Sea

Light catches all that comes out to greet it;

glints glittering in pebbled hills

glints glittering in the ocean's wafered waves,

glints glittering in Sunday's satisfied eyes.

Sounds orchestrate for those who hear its silent cacophony;

a crash of footsteps, uneven yet definitive,

a crash of waves, constant and icy,

a call for company, cold and unconvincing.

The breeze joins in, droning docile;

moving the flickering corner of this page,

moving overhead, a plane's engine sings and a father's finger

moving, pointing duly to the sky for his squinting son to see.

A cloud of delicate birds mould into forms,

migrating south, grasping the warmth with their wings

and faintly heard behind is the constant hum of traffic,

Sunday drivers strolling coastal roads to coastal towns.

All is quiet and peaceful

if I let the surroundings relax my mind.

All is noisy and vibrant

if I let the surroundings focus my mind.

All is beautiful.