To Melville

Where sailors smell land,
With harpoon in hand.
By Ahab's side
We ride the tide,
With Quaker hand
Nowhere to stand.
The flukes arise.
The towering tail
Smahes upon our whale.

Eide on the spray
O! Spouting foam
Smell the oil
As we strain and toil.
Down they go,
No hope of spoil.

To all but one,
The Grat White beast
Calls on to feast.
One alone safe from Pequod's grave.
One alone to tell Melville's tale.
One alone of the Great White Whale.

A Christmas Poem

An enduring memory of my childhood Christmas's is the desire to stay awake in order to see Santa Claus (Father Christmas) bring me my hoped for presents.

I would listen eagerly for the sound of hooves as the reindeer clattered upon the roof. Think I could hear the sound of shuffling down the chimney and always without fail I would be asleep by midnight.

Waking on Christmas morning, an old grey navy kit bag, laying across my bed, often filled with bright and shiny packages.

This poem is my tribute to those treasured Christmas's.


To read Christmas Eve CLICK HERE!

I Don't Have to Defend Myself

Breaking up is often hard.
We often say things that we regret later. If a relationship ends in a long series of fights. Excuses and antagonism often fuels the fight.
We grow defensive, and as words flow, so do the excuses.

This is the source of the poem I Don't Have to Defend Myself.

Read the poem CLICK HERE.

Reminder to Self and All Others: Be Prepared The Xanadu Principal

We all probably know the story of the English Romantic Poet Samual Taylor Coleridge, who one morning woke suddenly with a poem complete in his mind. The poem Xanadu  was the result. He was able to write only the first few verses before he was called for breakfast and the poem dissolved into nothing.

We do have the poem and even to this day we can see how much better the first part of the work is, the second part faulters and is less impressive.

Well this morning I had a Xanadu moment. I woke quickly and had a poem running around in my mind. Jumping out of bed, I rushed to my desk, paper, yes, pen, er! Pen!, Please a working pen! Found it.

Yesterday, through the missed.
I saw the eyes, that I have missed.
Soft kiss of the lips
Once kissed.

Err! there was more. Err, reminder to self be prepared to make notes at anytime.

Autumn Memories

For me Autumn or Fall is the best time of the year.

I remember as a child in England, the return to school in early September with fondness.  After school going to the park in front of the town hall and collecting conkers, Horse Chestnut, pods to break open for the large beown seeds inside, followed by hours of curing them for the big conker battles, and screams of strings as we boys battled with the seeds and smashed our opponents conker with glee.

Then as nights grew longer, in late October, we would make a "Guy" and go to the local store and beg for pennies from customers so we could buy ourselves fireworks and sweets, in preparation for November 5th.

This poem is a poem of the memories of that time.

To read Autumn Memories   CLICK HERE!