Tales from the edge of the morning sky

Send us Fan Mail November light So beautiful,  blending  blushing,  turning the skies  blue,  to light  to gold  and grey,  forever  in a tumbling  of showers,  winter  slips, across  the face  of darkness,  grinning  wildly  at the opening  dawn  of the coming 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!...

Send us Fan Mail Night Train Across the crouching darkness,  twisting the distances,  a caterpillar  of light and curves  departs beyond  the city edges,  with carriage windows  that brightly flicker,  blinking between  the flames  and shadows  of walls, trees  and telegraph wires,  the train travels  faster, faster, slipping,  behind embankments,  rattling steel,  metal and echoes,  faster and fa...

Send us Fan Mail Stone Something I’ve noticed. Learned perhaps. From the two stones I lift each day, just before dawn.  One is round and smooth. The other as long as outstretched fingers, with bands and filaments, layered and sparkling with minerals. They are Mica, quartz, and hornblende. The large pebble is sedimentary grey, with minuscule flecks of white. It is rounded, smooth and slips easily b...

Send us Fan Mail A slip of light  early morning  darkness,  the sky lengthens  from black  to steel  to grey,  November shivers   through leaves  and sunlight  a touch a smile  of dawn for so begins  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! p1964km@googlemail.com

Send us Fan Mail A flood  of darkness,  hidden  between  the earth the paling morning  a mid-November  sky,  the trees  are leafless,  fallen in blinking  puddles,  empty  of stars,  the clouds race  in ships  and sails,  the wind  whispers  across heavens,  in silence  the wings  of day  arising  as the hours hurry by  Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you ca...

Send us Fan Mail She wrote me a letter today, came in the post, it’s been such along time since she passed through this way, I spent the day wondering if I should open it, just to find out for sure, I was peeling back the envelope when I heard the knock upon the front door, I left the letter on the table, walked down the empty hall, passed by photographs of her face, the memories of loves, lives a...

Send us Fan Mail Quiet Quiet is  the morning,  the hush  of the fall,  the last  of leaves,  the memories of October  dry and broken roll with the wind  whispering lost  and abandoned  against the  garden wall for above the skies  lie hidden  in blankets,  the fog  of November  hanging  upon the plough of  fields,  the call  of a single blackbird,  across  the emptiness  of days,  as above  the su...

Send us Fan Mail The Glove She left it on the bench. A gift from her mother. It was raining. Tears from a falling November sky. She had left home at six, waited for the tram, as it climbed the curve through the winding crooked inclines of her home town. She could see it’s front light, an eye blinking through the streaming mirrors of darkened shop windows. The others were there. Huddled. Gossiping....

Send us Fan Mail In the Garden Listening  to the water,  trickle  the passing of life  into time storm and stream,  whilst above  November skies,  sparkle  with high crystal clouds so clear  reminding  of a summer  and morning,  and Spring  as last winter had once  foreseen For, as yesteryear beneath  the apple tree,  the last fluttering  of butterflies  and leaves,  a blackbird  hops between  the...

Send us Fan Mail Fire There’s a fire  in the darkness,  the sky lit  from the edge  of the world,  neither light  nor darkness,  the roaring  of flames  a blind giant  burning the earth  in hands  of metal  and steel,  humanity,  hope  and love  withheld,  he stumbles  and falls,  pulling down  the stars  from the sky,  crushing the earth  with his fingers,  stamping life  from the burning  of cit...

Send us Fan Mail The Flight I was awakened  this morning,  the first day  of November,  under grey  and light,  the dawn  of North  and Western skies,  I pushed back  the curtains,  opened the window,  and above me,  a hundred geese  maybe more  were leaving  heading for places  warmer,  where shadows  linger  a little longer,  where I am  just a memory,  as this years  last summer,  my footsteps,...

Send us Fan Mail The Eye Clouds have fallen,  hugging  the slow-tilled sky  of an autumnal tinted  reflected earth,  breathing in wisps  of smoke and fires,  hinting of morning  and of grey,  suffusing the bending figures  of trees  with shrouds  and mists  of silver  and the hooded cloak  of silence,  for dawn still sleeps,  beyond the hidden shadows,  behind the cage  of city lights,  pressing ...

Send us Fan Mail And night falls early  And night falls  early tonight,  the soft grey  to a descending  dusk,  the wind,  hushed  beneath the waves  of darkness,  November whispers, time passing  in the visible stars of October dust. 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! p1964k...

Send us Fan Mail Fog She creeps  across the fields,  along the empty lanes, beneath the dripping trees and the full round, smooth pebble of darkness, she waits, hesitant, on the edge of the town the street lights flicker, blink, fading under the grey weight of invisibility, silence  greets her and  tiptoes, as she walks  across the junction the traffic lights on red, stop,  stare, ignored as she p...

Send us Fan Mail Geese A button  of silver  high above  the dawn,  a full moon  mirrors the call  of November,  the last leaves of the season, whispering farewell to the empty  of trees and softly,  slowly,  in silence  fall. And as dawn clears the stars from the rising  morning skies they fade  in blues and greys in dreaming of summer’s eyes there is a glimpse, a glance of light, as shadows flutt...

Send us Fan Mail Midnight awaits Makes no difference,  bringing time  back  from the sunset,  the hours  of night,  the morning  stretches longer  into the awaiting dark  of November,  the fading  of autumn,  and the fall  of winter light. For the earth  spins silently,  a marble  of blue,  in the gravity  of time and space,  and here,  in the hurry  of lives,  the crash  of war and ideas,  the th...

Send us Fan Mail Paper Moon There’s a paper moon  hanging in the last  of leaves  and crowds,  the falling whispers  of November trees,  the moonlight,  blurred,  soft and remembered  the passing days  of time,  and memories.  For of yesteryears  unspoken,  above the shadowed rooftops,  the standing satellite dishes,  the question marks  and telegraph lines,  the paper moon,  watches above, listen...

Send us Fan Mail The Passing of Places Hugging  empty coastlines,  beneath waves of wind,  sky and place,  the yellow train,  stops  from time  to time,  beside  the hidden,  the silences,  the wind blown  sands the hours  lost between, without  a sound,  without a trace.  For beyond the forgotten, the dunes  of memories,  the greying skies  of winter,  high along  the tides, the future pasts of s...

Send us Fan Mail Greetings from Crosby Beach… 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 Spider webs and Sunlight Spiderwebs  and sunlight the last of autumn,  his days slipping to winter and skies of grey, sitting here, a bench a city park a playground of children, laughter and birdsong for time herself  is just slipping  away. And here right here parents and  Grandparents sit, reminiscing  upon the passing of hours, generations and history statues  and monuments com...

Send us Fan Mail Migration (Missiles  and Wings) A missile,  maybe mightily  and more  can reach  the furthest  ends  of the earth  and perhaps  to the furthest  ever  of shores,  for the dead  of today,  will fire it  anyway,  and plunge life  as again  we will never  know it,  to the ends  of the earth,  for sure,  for sure we won’t  know it for sure. And yet,  and yet,  as I look up,  so high ...

Send us Fan Mail And tonight  the first frost,  t’will come  leafless  in frozen fogs  through the shrouded  hoods  of skeletal trees,  behind waves, hidden, in the October wind,  the drifting call of invisible  seas.  And from the harbour of seasons, the moon rises  beyond  the ferrying clouds,  of skies the moon blinks  and blinks again,  October sails,  choosing or not whether to reveal or weat...

Send us Fan Mail After the daylight (Part 1) After the daylight,  the evening slips between seasons,  caught beneath  the ghostly glass,  of summer  and fall, for hushed  are the whispers  this late afternoon,  tremblingly in silence  sown upon winter  the last  scything, of harvest grain  for time herself does weep and call. For above  the first stars  peel the sky, to blue  to grey  and then to...

Send us Fan Mail Sun-days  Sundays and church bells chime, a mid morning call  to awake,  earth tilled  and prepared,  in  dreams  of November,  for springtime,  sleeping in silence,  born to create. And above  the fields,  blue sky  and woodsmoke,  crows circle  and call,  their trees released  of leaves,  trembling  and tumbling,  memories  of summer,  flickering in colour,  slowly fall. For bes...

Send us Fan Mail IU Evening slips  into night,  the hour  of reflection,  the window black  until morning,  the moon lost,  hidden for I’m missing  you  tonight.  Outside, it’s colder now,  the skies filled  with the promise  of dreams,  I’m holding your  memories  closer, imagining you here your head resting gently  with mine, missing  you near. It’s seems  so long although  it was just an hour ...