dream healing

Originally posted on a blind catch in the sun:
Photo by hiwa talaei on Pexels.com is there no escapesucked into reason’s vortexwhirled by a prose worldi spit shadow stone tabletsuntil sense breathes tear-gasped formlessgrace-fallen processword-ditch ignorant gone walking cloud moulded rain dried peasantramble-wide parishboundleaflit gold as klimtrich as a breeze on the meaning of seasonspass…

despite the season’s darkness

today the sea is blue
the sky’s gates lie open onto heaven
Angels are amongst us
riding horses in the waves
dancing with every grain of sand

A. H (15th December 2020)

Spotlight On . . . xii (’19)

as time slips i sip the hours
suntime nonsense flower
dreamer amidst woody bowers
weekend woman springing out
feeling her breathy path by breeze
toward sun stance
hip swung nonchalance
among happiness in bluebells


i, not quite, of the bluebells
increasingly away with the flowers
giddy, sing-song, gone wrong
gossamer rhyme blossom
coming alive

not so much singer as song
not so much goer as gone

cowslip, daff
meadow sweet

flowering at last
a rose, as if

(A. H / K. H-H, 1st April 2019)

(with some debt to Alice Oswald’s ‘Poem’)

How to Drop Honey in China

alien un-Sealed bleak January sands
easterly grey on grey wet rainless cold
new year presents more new life on toast
battleship snaps delete old selfie reaching
for unbecomeable femininity’s
full set pearl – hairdo smiled a poor sub-set
of vectors towards her gentle dimension

Continued here

One Saturday

a matter of life and death
beach clear, duned
sky drift cloud blue
first warmth of sun
works strange deposits
whale shit soft stone
sandy meander alone

continued here


earlier this month, a glimpse    

Busy summer sunday quiet beach walk

An old gentleman I said hello to on my way saw me on the turn back, I think I remember he said he was eighty-nine. We watched the planes landing behind the beach. He told me a long time ago they had motor races on the hard sand. I proved to myself horses do fly,…