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Thanks Billy, Glad you liked. Should I explain poems, not sure I should. I would love to but then I feel I have failed to convey.

Strands made of cockles crabs, pounded shell sun warmed and basted in an iodine brine shine yellow against an azure cloth sky speckles of white float serenely past The raging foam sweeps over slender tanned thighs her laughter pealing down through the years He returns to the thought as oft as he can...

Poor title, if it's not a tile then it should not be there it should be lower down after the poem... like a postscript. Am I being pedantic, I suppose I am. 'Now did roar' jarred a bit, a devilish devise to force the thyme. Your syllable count is crock, nothing regular which would make the poem bear...

I like these poems with the religion mystery buried deep so that no one can understand then unless they have studied the KJV for many long years. There can be no moonshine without the sun because the light comes from the sun, so obvious yet needs to be said to remind us and that is a great poetic de...

'Seat on the Train' has been withdrawn, it is too poignant and personal for me at the moment. Some things I cannot release to the general public. I do however thank you that you thought it has merit. It is one of those I have to meditate on before representing. Again many thanks. I am very happy for...

My seat on the train
sat me next to a child
who corrected my English
As we chugged up to Pontsticill

She gave me one
long intensive look
and searched my face.
as I smiled at such contact

unfeathered [maybe unfettered is more suitable, unfeathered-uncovered fallen to fall. Unfeathered means angels will fall?] freed from the will [freed from the will? Freed from the will to sin, i.e. in death] from the burden of to be or not to be [Michael often returns to this spiritual cry, to be or...

Thanks for reading and commenting Michael, you are very well read. I remember that old Beatles song, never read Byron though. Just something that happened recently that struck me. Isn't life beautiful?

Thanks for your comments mestos, much appreciated. I am writing on behalf of my cousin: Frank. The 'she' in the poem is the ship, a horse waits for shoe and a kingdom is won or lost, a ship waits for a key and sails/steams/motors or not on the next tide.

I saw her only yesterday different in her age older, more like her mother Another house just as grand full of character by the water still We looked hard staring into each others souls via the eyes We found ourselves in actions, small acts of kindness, intimacy The relatives stared not comprehending...

Some words are wrap-arounds
to be enveloped in moistness
savoured by the tactile tongue
searched out for roughness
smoothed by much use

Thanks Michael, I have been on holiday for a while and forgot my password again. I write them down but then lose a bit of paper and the dang machine refuses to let me on no matter how many times i translate: freelekh. To show that it is I the clue is in the first part of the name, to be Frank. This ...

Rapping, a modern way, not really poetry to some, times change. Can't say it is my cup of tea. Hope you move into other forms. I frequently change my name on here as the password holder often refuses to let me in. But most of my names start with Frank.