Tales from the edge of the morning sky

Send us Fan Mail Messages I looked up this morning,  and saw the moon  descending,  in slips  and rolls across  the windswept storms,  seas and skies,  blinking, watching, wondering,  behind the clouds  of curiosity’s eyes,  for whilst against  a proud and tall  sycamore tree  I stood,  limbs astride,  branches extending  to the thundering,  roaring, heavens  high above,  a single seed  of passing...

Send us Fan Mail Pathways to the moon Above the hidden  the stars,  high beyond  the whispering tops  of trees,  the moon  slipped between  the clouds  of midnight,  and spread diamonds  of constellations  in their thousands  upon the silver  the branches  of yesteryear’s  leaves,  For as I travelled, along the moonlit, the pathways,  hidden in winter, the darkness,  dreaming  of the light,  airs...

Send us Fan Mail An Early Spring? It might yet not be May, with  forget-me-nots to be, but spring is  awakening, behind the grey, the still, the quiet, of February  For upon this very morning, the birds that sing do so by calling, the colours out of silence, the new grass and green,  As upon the garden lawn, and lighter  dawns  the thinning blues of dreaming  skies,  a single flake of snow  and dr...

Send us Fan Mail Cold Crisp and cold,  the morning slipping, from night  and stars, the opening day,  yet foretold,  For dawn,  her light, is awakening low, in creases  of sky, the opening hour, in colours bright, and winter gold. For an eastern  wind is lifting light, to dreams, to daylight,  the birth  of Spring, in the tearful dark of winter’s eyes, crisp and gold, that March in rain, and storm...

Send us Fan Mail On  On the last cusp  of evening,  just before  the hush  of dusk dances  the last dance,  through  the speckled sunlight, amongst  the flickering branches, beneath the peach  and blossom,  the fall  of a late  summer sky,  if you listen,  if you listen  carefully,  and in the time it takes to cross  the footbridge,  over the stream  that empties itself, out beyond  the woodland, ...

Send us Fan Mail As tall as the wind ‘Who is as tall  as the wind?’ said the sea  to the sky,  ‘why, not me!’ whispered  the tree with her leaves,  tickling with curiosity  by and by. ‘So, who is  as tall  as the wind?’ asked the tree  of the earth, ‘why, not me!’ answered the seed growing with life smiling and laughing with mirth. ‘Who then  IS as tall  as the wind?’ asked the seed of the soil ‘W...

Send us Fan Mail Silence and Sunday February,  and daylight  creeps slowly,  stealthily,  silently,  across the eastern rim  of a rising sky. Hushed,  are the winds,  the trees  and fields,  as a single bird  lifts the wings  of dawn  to fly. For it’s colder  today;  the shadows of  dark,  of night,  slip across  the empty streets,  beneath  the street lamps,  naked of light  and empty  of meaning...

Send us Fan Mail Flurries  Empty, the first  of flurries, the fall  of February  morning snow,  across  a dreaming  of blue  and   dawn, brings the winter  tears of weeping sky,  lost, bereft and forever  dreams  of spring, to being reborn. Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!...

Send us Fan Mail This  day  of shadows  and wind,  bending treetops,  moaning,  and menacing, in gusts, and roars,  bellows  and invisible rushes  across the hidden, the hurrying dark of February skies, whilst above, high above, the rain washed  streets,  the puddles,  and reflections,  the blinking  awakening lights  of houses  and homes, the moon, slips  between ocean skies  of racing clouds,  i...

Send us Fan Mail S(now) A hushed breath  of morning snow,  awakens the hope  for spring. For who knows  where the winds  may blow,  that tomorrow’s  dreams may bring? Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback! p1964km@googlemail.com

Send us Fan Mail YouTube(It's you-not me) Taking my eyes  off the stage, Seeing the eyes  of the crowd  All eyes closed,  cameras wide. No ones listening to me to the notes deep inside. Choose to record me post me online Steal my bread  and butter used to keep  me alive. A million hits, the drug  of the masses, likes or dislikes we’re not listening  anymore, just downloading  the moment. Don&...

Send us Fan Mail Despite herself, and grasping both gloves, she couldn’t avoid his eyes, she looked back at him, could see his confusion, his face like the changing of seasons, flickering and changing as lights across a hillside. ‘Yes, please…’ the words slipped weakly from her mouth, then stronger,’why…why did you take it with you?’ He looked away, wanting to hide the naked loneliness in his eyes...

Send us Fan Mail Two dawns (and a day) Still  is the morning, early sunlight  on a distant hill, missing  your footsteps climbing  upwards to the awakening  view. So along  the pathway across ripening fields  and ripples of golden wheat I imagine your smile, when these  two dawns  do meet. For the sky,  is so perfect, a summer  of blue, the sparkle of life awakening this August  a day for dawn, an...

Send us Fan Mail Blackbird There’s a blackbird  singing across  the still morning air,  her song ripples  in the moonlight,  a melody  of a summer stream,  wishing the dawn  was already there. For it is deep  in the mid  of winter,  the snow drifts,  high upon  the garden wall,  the skies hidden  by fog and banks  of rolling cloud,  her wings still folded,  waiting for dawn  her springtime call. A...

Send us Fan Mail If (Politics and Nature) If the moon  slipped and fell,  from the cradle  of skies  to the wind blown sea,  would it matter,  would it matter then,  to me?  If the stars  then tumbled,  in a crown  of constellations  upon the waves  of majesty,  would the fish  then listen  to the wings  of gulls calling  and crying  in glee?  And on the shore,  when the high  of tide has retreate...

Send us Fan Mail Hushed Hushed  is the snow,  the first morning  of another day, her footsteps still  following  the stars,  the dawn  has lifted  away,  for the silence  fills the emptiness,  the hidden blue  of her eyes,  tears in droplets  of ice,  frozen ‘til April,  in the awakening  sunrise. Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further...

Send us Fan Mail Morning bells Morning bells,  the church tower  lost in flurries  of snow  does chime,  winter light  returning,  dawn edging  above the drifts  and clouds  of dawn  and time,  For another year  stretches,  in calendar days  the retreating shadows  of yesteryears, ‘how long?’ the blackbird  sings  above the hours  ‘how long?’ he sings, into the darkness waiting,waiting, until spri...

Send us Fan Mail Running  Running with the sky  full,  open the last of dust of stars in my eyes,  the wind  in my hair,  the dawn  snuffed  into silence  memories  of night and blindness hidden, by the wind Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback! p1964km@googlemail.com

Send us Fan Mail High are the stars tonight High,  are the stars  tonight,  beyond the skies  of this room  of bed  and sleep,  with dreams  to become,  the earth turns  an invisible hand,  across the heavens,  in time to trust  and time  to keep… Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me fee...

Send us Fan Mail The Glove  The doors once again hissed tightly shut, this time closing behind him. No place to sit. He put his bags on the floor by his feet. Leaned on the glass panel and looked around him. He held the glove uselessly in his left hand and just for a few stops, shut his eyes, and trusted to the muffled rocking motion, the regular stops and the warm, dry welcoming air blasting from...

Send us Fan Mail Everyone  has gone from dust   to dreams  to dusk  and darkness,  ‘Twil matter to none,  for the morning sun  stands empty,  the sky  a blanket  of cloud smoke  and grey with lines  of footsteps abandoned ruptured  in shadows  of war fractures death, destruction,  and decay. Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics...

Send us Fan Mail The Sea Above  the rising tides,  the winds  that rush  and fettle  above the sky  through the shaking hands  of empty trees,  the blue of dawn  in ragged strips, wrinkles  and shrugs,  sighing mournfully  for sifting through  the last  of autumn’s  leaves, a single crow  barks above  the mud,  the plough,  along the empty  ripples  of loam rilled  fields,  as the year  doth end,...

Send us Fan Mail High is the Moon Late afternoon,  above  the fading trees,  the light slipping  from blue to grey,  the moon hints  at the coming night  and slowly bows  across the sky  and leaves the chatter  of birdsong for another day. Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback! p...

Send us Fan Mail High Tide In the high tide  of darkness,  in the cold,  the wet  and wind blown,  the new dawn  waits off stage,  waiting for the surge  of winter,  the blindness  of January,  in seeds  of clouds  and moon,  waiting to be sown,  and below,  the huddled rooftops,  behind alder,  beech  and yew,  the village church  points skywards,  and chimes  to the world,  time unfolding  the h...

Send us Fan Mail The first light of morning The first light  of morning,  dawn and grey  with flower  blossoms  of clouds  upon the rose petal  east, an opening sky,  for today a light mist rises  above the empty fields,  all is quiet,  all is hushed,  only the hours  chime,  as time  whispers  slowly unfolding, the echoes  and memories,  in flights  of wings  and memories, passing me by, and taki...