Friday, 19 August 2016


Yesterday I found myself
Whilst sitting on a sphere
Blending with surroundings
Being there and waiting here

Someone took a photograph
Of something temporarily
Staring into nothingness
A momentary shape of me

Captured in a time and space
My empty pages took a turn
Tapping into suppositions
Discarding points of no concern

Looking out for deeper meanings
Each explanation disagreeing
I stubbornly conclude my tour
As one more other human being

Saturday, 6 August 2016


Sailing on a slipstream breeze
Not a thing to hold me down
Light airs relaxing all my chains
No anchors weighing on my frown

Sitting in this fleeting state
Pretending it’s perpetual
Strange it is to contemplate
How settings are conceptual

Friday, 5 August 2016

Lucky LUCA

In the cesspit of beginnings
Where massive masses all amassed
How primeval muddy LUCA
Cooked prototypes of chloroplast

Though we wonder at our standing
From our origins of descent
We are amazing steamy things
Brought forth from hot air vents

Harking way back to our ancestry
Stupefied by first eruptions
Bacterium magisterium
From evolutions odd corruptions

Thursday, 4 August 2016

Radio Love

The radio a medium
A miracle on air
Relieves the daily tedium
When I need to grin and bear

Melodies in combinations
Patchwork chitter chatters
Helps me with my trepidations
When overcome by heavy matters

A wireless lifeline station
My static comrade always there
It talks to me implicitly
When other powers overbear

Plane Speaking

Gary Blockwood noted whittler
Plumb-bob carve-up level pegs
A sawn off wooden structure-all
Can chisel barrels into kegs

Snugly boarded tongue-in-groove
Securing timber deftly laid
A magnitude of measured place
His whittled dowels on hit parade

Nailed or screwed but never skewed
A Pythagoras angled mix
Imbues pristine hypotenuse
Gary Blockwood’s whittle tricks

Wednesday, 3 August 2016

Revising Surmising

Well knitted

Distractions can at times produce
Unexpected upturned sands
Where delving in one's curiosity
Connects arrays of ideal strands

Unlike those lessening detractions
Which can turn your hopes in vain
Leave you with your flightless wings
Pursuing too much grape and grain

Satisfaction is a life fulfilled
In the strands of sands in vain
Looking deep avoiding wishful sleep
Is where one’s problems solving gain