on sleep

unlit stone alcove
sheltered from noise of traffic
aligned with concrete
a man lies down for the night
organic heap on city street


n.b. “…but everywhere, it’s the same.” Some cities have more obvious housing problems than others.

CLP 22/03/2023

on irony

relief as dusk falls
own bed awaits traveller
dreams will transport him


CLP 22/02/2023

on time

don't know about you
I have some work tomorrow
moon slides into bed


CLP 02/12/2022

on time

when would suit you best?
no time like the present, but
not on a school night


n.b. Time is tight, but there are limits.

on time

sleep would be welcome
but you come round here again
pulling at my sheets


n.b. Coincidence, or cyclical?

CLP 08/11/2022

on Ukraine

dreaming of sleeping
interrupted by sleep's dreams
awake through nightmares


n.b. Terrorism for terrorism’s sake. Moscow’s War on Peace consists undercover of darkness.

CLP 16/10/2022

on time

stretching across paths
shadows mark summer's decline
extra bed covers


n.b. It’s definitely cooler in the evening, but still praying for rain.

CLP 28/08/2022

on rain

Now you're here, I'll sleep
Safe at home, warm in my bed
I've really missed you


CLP. 18/06/2022

Aisling of the millpond

unseasonable warmth
petite clouds
white buds pinned to infinite blue
fine grass blades grass by the millpond
prick my pale winter skin
my flat weight crumples daisies
in cool shade
of the willow’s weeping

tumble of the waterwheel
low hum of bumble bees




with eyes closed I see all
the birds I hear
from within this sonorous wall
soft notes
a woman’s song

so tired
so tired
so tired

my head so heavy it cannot turn
my eyelids stuck down by pinks and blues
my arms so heavy they will not move
my legs feel bound they cannot run
my voice clasped tight within my throat
I hear her singing

she sings of lilac
yet to bloom

she sings of lambs
not yet sprung

she sings of hedgerows
nestlings yet to fledge

she sings of the stream
yet to flood

she sings of oak
still to leaf

she sings of the summer
yet to burn

she sings of two lovers
yet to meet

she sings of harvest
we’ve yet to reap

she sings of apples
we’ll collect

she sings of mists
that will rise from dew

she sings of the plough
that will tear the earth

she sings of crows
that will draw in the night

she sings of frost
that will veil the soil

she sings of the fireplace
as autumn leaves

so tired
so tired
so tired

slowly I wake
how far I must go
before I finally reach
my home


n.b. NaPoWriMo 2022 Day Twenty-five prompt: write an aisling.

CLP 25/04/2022

on time

one of those long nights
eagle owl drifts through city
alarm brings respite


n.b. At last, the blessed relief of the Angelus bell.

CLP 31/03/2022