My Picture and drawing.
Dark place
Love Poems
Sunday morning
A picture sent to me my one of my students
Complacencies of the night,
tears of an ancient sacrifice.
I dreamt a little,
a small spill
of things to be cherished
like the thought of a heaven.
Eubank wins on points,
England loose to Wales,
passions of rain and a fading empire.
Bob Seger sings of a ‘fire inside’,
emotions on wet roads on winter mornings.
Looking through open widows,
smiling through memories.
Xinxiang distracted by the self,
a soft breeze blows in
The way you are always near
and coffee already cold,
the joy of this Sunday morning.
A place I know well
My Picture
Down side streets,
fog turning the sky in and out.
There is only one love
. …. to enlarge the circles
and read the poems.
Let it be you
in the spring of the year.
Startling me from this spiders life
and trumpeting red flowers.
Silent Moments No 3
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My Pictures: Harbin. Heilongjiang, China.
Old church doors
across the street.
Not creaking for anyone.
The Songhua River,
quite through bare trees….
never quite full.
Yet faintly, between the space,
a dutar plays a song.
A small patch of grass
surprises me as I turn.
Pain of yesterday, today and tomorrow.
My Pictures: Some thoughts from my students from a class on ‘Psychopathology’
United in pain.
A midlife sadness,
louder than a scream.
Take me away from this winter,
and voices cancelled by the rain.
When stillness descended,
the night…..ours to decide.
And what I loved
was the idleness of a moment with you.
Gathering words and stolen kisses
under candle – light.
Winter is going
My Pictures: Reflections of Harbin
Even in solid cold
I just can’t leave you.
Lonely lonely me.
Age of hope
My Picture: Harbin Snow.
The sky was black last night,
and so afflicted.
Stars stung to irritated gestures,
so unsleeping…..
Seeds of love scattered
from Manchester to Xinxiang.
Giving me an endless longing,
and hope for a fresh grace of an early dawn.
Xinxiang Blue
My Picture: Poetry and coffee this evening.
Back in Xinxiang
the coffee tastes good.
‘The Carpenters’ are signing about love,
which becomes lost in time.
Never to be smooth again.
Deep inside, a spring longing.
A shadow still wedged between the rocks, and the rising spring river.
Seared into my aching bones.
Always to linger,
and never to be free.
The music stops, it always does.
Vaguely, I hear a sound….
….. a sweet voice
….. a distant voice
“Come close, and follow me…..”
Pulled into a violet world,
surrounded by the noise of our origin.
I see you…
and my unfinished flight.
Walking the streets in Harbin
My Pictures: Harbin, China this evening.
Ice melts on the road,
full moon shining on.
Step-by-step, still I slip.
Hopes dimmed in time.
The streets lights casts shadows
…. a bitter loss.
Your face, a spring breeze
and warm change.
A river cracks
My Pictures: Songhua River Bridge this evening. Harbin, China.
A Wandering Poet 