Pic of the day

Pic of the day
Somehow, she's always the one up here.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

The space of Al Capone

Off and on the beat,
on the rocks or neat,
the neon sign stabs
with the musical jabs
of the trio of jazz
playing with pizzazz.
The ivories, they tickle
to a jazz beat, fickle,
soprano or baritone,
in the space of Al Capone.

Sit by the stage,
no matter the age.
or adore
tweeple, sheeple,
magical, mythical.
Hear it singing;
cymbals ringing:
syncopating hearts,
the metronome’s parts.
No beat’s ever alone
in the space of Al Capone.

The crescendo peaks
and music speaks;
brushes carve a beat
on the rocks or neat.
Among lovers, necking
and hen parties, pecking,
let Byron manifest
as cello seduces chest.
Must beat poets cry
at music so they can try -
Try to keep time:
in arrhythmia, find rhyme?
Brushstrokes on murals reveal
colours of the drummer's peal.
Colours of movie magic
or Shakespearean-ly tragic -
The colours gather tone
in the space of Al Capone.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Autumn's song

Sunshine plays in leaves,
the moon trapped in a tree;
clouds born of drops of dew
and Fall breeze set free.

Youthful days die quick,
peaceful nights are long;
brown sky kisses ground:
it's time for Autumn's song.

Stars, in windows, twinkle,
giants' shadows loom;
time dances dark ballet
and nightly flowers bloom.

Opus noir fades,
a symphony awakes;
softly taking centre stage,
a velvet dawn breaks.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015


The hour is twilight, visited by Lilith:
her wingspan shrouding a darkening sky.
With passion and heart, the cup filleth.
Some seek to root and some to fly.

The breeze bears scents of coming night
like life flying through dusky air.
Creatures and thoughts of dark take flight.
Some seek to be safe, some abandon care.

Unseen lights flicker: a peaceful sky,
while ground to ground, they flare too long.
Fluorescent lives rage unheard; cry.
Some scream, some dream of night's soft song.

Sunday, May 31, 2015


What darkness is it when killing, 
a sense of joy, does contrive?
Is it the dark of soul, willing?
Or dark, the nature to survive?

In undiscovered recesses,
where demons, we do conjure,
we allow such excesses:
excesses that we nurture.

The focus and attention
toward a single extinction
deserves some distinction
as a curious affliction.

Hypocrisy or disease?
One life's end is pain to see
the other simply snuffed with ease.
Disease or hypocrisy?

Violence, begot of fear,
comes from nature, prime.
It absolves the eye a tear;
it absolves the heart a crime.

Monday, December 1, 2014


What soft heart breaks,
tears asunder, aches;
what weak eyes swell;
what emotions compell
the mind beyond mending
to find it heart-rending -
the death of a pet,
one not even met?
Another's pain to feel -
too soft a heart to heal.
How soft a heart that breaks.
How soft a life it makes.

Monday, October 13, 2014


Sunrise over a city of grime:
the jagged edge of a modern time
breaking the dark of a night-time past.
No new day shall be like the last.
A horizon of razors tears through the sky;
like flakes from a cut, the birds fly
toward their new, unknown day.
The rhythm of survival, their wings play.

Sunrise over a city of dark:
a veil of light covers the stark
truth behind the street-light shadows
where the city's truth grows.
A paint of light to whitewash faces,
corners, curbs and heritage places.
A paint of light to help to pawn
a new born night, noon and dawn.

(Thank you Daisy)

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Lunar rouge

Let tempest rise and lightning fly;
let howling wind come wail and cry.
Torn asunder, clouds have bled:
tonight, the full moon will turn red.

No daylight dares to poke and peek
when nightly lights do dance and streak.
The stars will whirl and swoon instead.
Tonight, the full moon will turn red.

Let spirits roam and phantoms free
to rave the night for all to see
and paint their visions in your head.
Tonight, the full moon will turn red.

Let magic song and words be writ.
Undone be history bit by bit.
Tonight's no night to spend in bed.
Tonight, the full moon will turn red.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Be my

Be my walk along the beach;
the silver moon
out of reach
in whose light a cloud can flow.
Be my stare
out a window.
Be my comfy cup of coffee,
piece of cake
or choco cookie.
Be my time of inspiration,
Be my Sunday morning, lazy,
clear and bright,
soft and hazy.
Be my sunshine when it pours.
You be mine
and I'll be yours.

Thursday, May 22, 2014


No one wins; nobody loses.
The highway of life, one gently cruises
in search of a life. Man knows not where
to look - past strife. That road, the air
holds the very thing
that many a crowned king
have wrestled with themselves
to have and hold. One delves
into the deepest recess,
where the mind denies access
searching for this long-lost truth -
Life's the road less traveled, forsooth.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

A shared cigarette

A window, and I serenade you.
By the hand, I will kiss you.
We'll drink and watch the world smoke by
as clouds turn stars turn inky sky.

I'll talk of worlds within your eyes.
You'll talk of a life. Time flies.
In harmony; we'll feel so right.
We'll spend that one amazing night.

When dawn breaks as dreams do
I'll kiss you still and you'll coo.
At the break of light and sunlight bright,
we'll see our paths in plain sight.

There'll be, perhaps, another day:
some point in time and space. They say
that paths meant to cross, must.
Our crossing was of love and lust.