My Joyful Day

I will silence the winds 
And have the trees stop their dance 
Until called upon to do so 

I will call out the clouds 
And say to them, this day 
Just this day, spare me your rain 


And the grass will know to keep to a height 
We greed on, upon a gentleman's handshake  
Not too high a' not too short, just perfect in trim 


The sea will calm their rattle 
The dolphins will synchronise their jumps 
The salmons will not yet go red 


I will have the sun come out  
And the birds will line in choir, well tuned 
Ready and willing to sing at a moments notice 


And the sky will give me 
Its bluesiest of colour so picture perfect 
For ceremonial  me, to sit in adore   


To name this day 
My joyful day, oh what a day 
To have this day be  

Personal Space

Allow me breath to breathe 

Allow me space to be, to live 

Allow me, my personal space 

In Clues Left

A flag, a dog, poppy as flower on remembrance, a' pop music 
Not much to say about the fish and chips  
A dynasty,  grade one, grade two, listed buildings 


Lighthouse, Angel of the north, Stonehenge 
Not much else to say 
About the narrow streets  


A spinning wheel named an eye of a city
Parks, museums, pubs, cottages 
Galleries, castles and cathedrals 


A union of reserved feelings 
Not close to friendship "civilised, or so it is said to be"
But it will suffice on forced smiles  


For the image needed to portray 
Put the rest down to politics
North, south divided not much else to say 


Not much else to say about the weather 
It rains, no it pours, and holds unpredictability  
No it drenches in summer, not much else to say


But God save the "******"
And whoever comes after "keep calm and carry on"
Bacon on breakfast, baked beans with eggs, tea! 


Not wanting to give too much away
Like too much away, already given 
Said enough, in too much said 


And if I am to ask, on clue  
Pick a town a city or a place 
Best  to suit descriptions above, what would it be  


Free fish and chips 
If you did get it right, for getting it right  
A trip of a life time, if you did get it right 

The Unfamiliar Acquaintance

I am the one, you passed by yesterday 
The neighbour you said hello to, or not 
The nods and smiles you gave, or not 


The gentle echoes from the distance you heard 
Like a visit to my Keta village, on the shores 
Of the volta and dawn drum beats, that melody 


That melody, that wakes the soul to feed, or not 
I am the lover you once had, made promises to 
Your first love or not, second love, third love, or not 


The beggar on the street you tossed a coin to, or not 
The neighbour's child with scruffy hair, or not  
The kid you willingly shared your all with, or not 


With names familiar to you, or not 
And memories of innocences, or not 
The childhood best friends forever, or not 


Still unsure, what emphases to place in knowing 
Whether to call thee a friend or an acquaintance 
Whether to make thee a stranger, with a hint of familiarity 

But you know to recognise comrades, and lay claim to relations 
As opulence favour door ways of subjects, until now with surety 
Surely you must be, don't you remember, with tones changed 

Writing w' a free mind

What I would give to fly without wings 
Pack without recourse, just my need 
And set off on roads 


Even if I fall on my face 
I am still moving forward 
Close to see what the earth is to hold  


Chasing the seasons 
Like the migrating birds 
With no ties to the land 


A nomad owning all, by being free 
To flock where my heart delight 
And land just as lift off, with nothing but a flick 


Crossing borders of man made 
Without the hint of checks and measures 
Hold on, take your shoes off, as well on suspicion 


To truly live, escaping the chains of taxation 
Debt and the 9 to 5 commitments  
That only serves to feed the cycle of citation 


Of the same Alcatraz 
Only hoping for retirement at grey age 
To be a freeman to enjoy handouts as spoils  


 At such young age, a stretch too far 
Of incarceration to build 25 to life 
Locked in a cage of mortgage imprisonment 


As  false prosperity 
Owns my breath, directed to stress 
To be owned by the system 


What I would give to fly without wings 
Pack without recourse, on looking back 
Just my need and set off on roads


Chasing the seasons 
Like the migrating birds 
Writing poetry with a free mind