Stop A Wail

They tread a trail in single file

A ghostly walk without a sound

Passing headstones of the long lost

Where stories wait a distant sound

Crunching leaves and snapping twigs

A cold air evening gasp

Proposing deals as now congeals

Its auguring guttural rasp

Iciness on Jack Frost fingers

A rising shadow night completes

Moonlight shade a muddy glade

Making choices trick or treat

Trench Foot In Mouth

On the side of a road in a ditch

Where the dew on a cold morning blue

Leaves unacceptable promises undone

In a ditchwater blur shining through

It is here where dead pledges fester

To no more be heard of again

As the squeak of a creak a Halloween freak

Is a ditch full of something insane

The time is too late for denials

They’ll be digging a new kind of ditch

Somewhere to hold new promises bold

On the nod with a wink and twitch 

Bizarre by Far

Looking deep to find reality

Finding nothing’s as it seems

All our estimates not adding up

In pristine strings of novel schemes

With a plot of calculations

Down a quantum rabid hole

In a true or false conundrum

Sliding down an abstract pole

Likelihood is what we work toward

On certainties we can depend

Switching light on Daliesque effects

Declaring answers that contend

Having Said That

I like to write what’s on my mind

That’s when my mind allows

I like to call it my opinion

On the why’s and where’s and how’s

It pleases me when words make sense

In the way they sometimes fall

To do this I will write  at speed

Then readjust them all

Who can tell the way words gel

If a phrase will strike a chord

So let a reader delve inside

On those lines I once explored

Back From 2 a.m.

Tomorrow night the clocks fall back

Too much weather in the sky

An extra hour beneath the sheets

Last hopes of Autumn hurry by

Backward days and longer nights

Bring on boots and overcoats

Crystal dawns dust icy lawns

Coughing sneezes and sore throats

We’ll heed disaster warnings

Take other roads on longer routes

Traffic crams and headlight jams

Triple time on work commutes

You Aren't There

Britain's got a brand-new bag

“Halt who goes there,” said the guard

“We are citizens of Europe” they replied

“Stand and deliver your documents

For without, you must be denied”

Making strangers of neighbours and friends

Misunderstanding the way of the world

Where two-way streets in freedom meet

With joyful flags unfurled

Where once they stood together as one

Now split by a custom-made wall

No longer deciding the way of the game

They had dropped their part in the ball

“Halt who goes there,” said the guard

“We are citizens of Europe” they replied

Made to look small in spite of their size

They returned to their prosperous side

Well that’s how it turned in the end

Where the little gave greatness away

No longer the banner or part of a planner

Small island that once won the day

The Cunning Clan

In the land of ‘Whisper-Mumbles’

Where the double barrels lurk

Writing scripts of right palavers

That sent the audience berserk

 

Lord Conniver of Blue Measly

Snitch finder General on the prowl

Holding undercover rulings

With a condemnatory scowl

 

Traitors gate is beckoning

For those who overplayed their hand

To rot inside a stonewall wilderness

In a far-off reckless land

Out Of Date

Looking through my simple microscope

At a micro-managed scene

Taking in the sights of fairyland

At perfect parts in our machine

Everything is highly programmed

To do exactly what it must

In its ocean swell contributing

In a choreograph of thrust

A splitting image house of mirrors

Where each reflection waits its turn

To be looked at then interpreted

As something new we need to learn

But those beyond the microscope

Have bigger pictures now for sale

Leaving little things for other times

Climb smaller hillsides lest they fail

Glimmers

Funny how the moments go

With no way to rein them in

They ran as fast as they began

A fleeting race we could not win

They took with them a picture book

That may be partially recalled

A fuddled view of distant aftermaths

Which once delighted or appalled

So many instants visit in a life

If we’re smart we’ll make a note

Keeping details as reminders

A sea of moments kept afloat

Based on a tweet by Mad Hatter Tea: "I can't go back to yesterday I've lost the directions"

Lewis Carroll:

"I charm in vain: for never again"

“It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,” the Queen remarked.

“What sort of things do YOU remember best?” Alice ventured to ask.

“Oh, things that happened the week after next,” the Queen replied in a careless tone.

BBC Future Link

Rules is Rules

In a game of more or less

Exactitude can have no place

At the end who wins is anyone's guess

A now and then a two-faced case

Nothing anywhere is permanent

A tug of war cannot explain

Putting pressure on the covenant

Where even keel is no one's gain

It comes down to high and mightiness

Who can make the loudest noise

Where hidden costs inflicting less

Are gifts exposed as second-hand toys

Mind Over Muster

STORY LINK

Brain upgrades are being trialled

Just for now for on Monkey nuts 

Implants stuck inside the brain

To boost appendage uppercuts

Improving Monkey puzzle outcomes

On higher branches smarter swings

Where the chimpanzee Endymion

Presents the moon with brighter things

In a library filled with Jungle books

The ‘Grade A’ ape will then evolve

Overcoming woodland hurdles

Now twigging stuff they couldn’t solve

Once their camps become a campus

In a thicket line fast-track 

We can rearrange the human head

And cut the monkey mind some slack

Thoughtful Sunday

Today is thoughtful Sunday

So speak inside your head

Decide what time you might get up

Or think the whole day in your bed

Shun those tedious tiresome thinks

They’ll just send you back to sleep

Then make you restless fidgety

Far too shallow hard to keep

Then when your Sunday dawns on you

As you rise and feel revived

Pull the curtains and go back to bed

Avoiding anything connived 

A Parlay Finale

They didn’t listen

Ignored the flack

In the middle

Of the mess

Risked everything 

by changing tack

Though in then the end

They would confess

Not noticing

The severed slack

The random whip

Of chance attack

Destroying choices

Leaving less than less

Their clawback jaws

Proclaimed success

But no one heard

Them coming back

With victory

They would profess

On sidings of

Another track

No longer rescued

By the second guess

Just empty bags

To not unpack

Some of the Time

STORY LINK

Depending on your point of view

There it goes or here it comes

Time is what you need to take

When you consider all the sums

Looking for those future hints

You need to know which way to see

When making sound appointments

You’ll need the locals to agree

If what we see when looking up

Is in the past yet still not here

Then the future that we left behind

Passed us by before next year

So hang on to your relatives

Imagine all of them are real

Or alternately you can have a go

At reinventing time’s big wheel

Monday Sad and Bad

Someone said it's Monday

It gave me quite a jolt

So much so I gulped my coffee

As though I'd swilled a thunderbolt

Monday morning feelings can

Pour darkness on my gloom

Send me back to front my demons

Beneath the sheets in my bedroom

I know I can get over it

I am a Monday morning Brave

Five more cups of coffee

Then maybe surf the seasick wave

Imagined

So here I am imagining

Imaginary things

A sort of seagull screaming

With imaginary wings

I imagine what it's howling at

Although I know that it’s unreal

I imagine it must have a tale

Imagined years ago I feel

I’m imagining some imagery 

A picture image cool and clear

Then suddenly a voice gets through

To make my image disappear

Winterfylleth

The golden glow of autumn moon

Unlocks a frosted winter gate  

The silent fall of fading leaves

On carpet forest floors sedate

A million farewells softly sing

Echoes drift in rolling mist

Lullaby’s of cover warms the soul

In dreams of long nights kissed

Soak the fruits and salt the meats

We’ll be together in the deep

A celebration time to be reborn

In our middle winter keep