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An idea trapped in ink

A dream made real

An exploration of how I think

A window into what I feel

This is my instrument

This is my Art

My paintbrush, plectrum, drumstick

My soul, my heart

5342

Pointing fingers, growing alarm

A panicked rush, a call for calm

Realisation, screams cut short

A desperate voice, Abort, Abort! 

Then split silence, metal tears

A scrawl of noise, a rush of air

An intense blast of heat and shock

The lonely blinking of a black box

Fencing

Watching the flashing points

The arrogant steps

The clash of blades

Heavy white jackets flex

At every thrust and turn

En Garde the call

To arms! To arms!

A circled sword

Toe to toe

Tensed to strike

And go again

Lunge and thrust

Parry and block

A smile behind the mask

I think he likes it

DeepSeek

The news is full of market flips

On AI chips

As Chinese firms enter the race

Pick up the pace 

Their models trained on a millionth the price

A few grains of rice

And even Trump seems impressed

Theirs is best

It's no surprise to the AI geeks

We've known for weeks

What I find the most interesting part

Is its Chinese heart 

If you open its reasoning and peer within

It dreams in Mandarin

Switching languages on the fly

To give a reply

The thought of it strikes me dumb

Digital brain, mother tongue

Waiting

Death waits at her window, unashamed

As I wait at mine

She gazes out as I gaze in

Joined by her reflection, we wait

Clutching at straw-like hairs, she slips

And slumbers in a dream of youth

And I slip back beyond my blinds

While death reflected never stirs

No signals ever pass between

These panes of glass, these silent tongues

She waits to be called

And I wait for my time

The long shot failed

I sit under a fading light

A flickering flame of memory

And regret with head in hand

My wasted plans

Desire to fight

I should have known that you were right

I gambled on a shooting star

A long leap from too great a height

I count my losses all to none

What's done is done

Sunk in a bar

I pushed you far too far

There's nothing now here left for me

These wounds will never scar

There's no worth in what I write

You're gone from sight

I cannot see

There's any reason left to be

The dream

I had a dream last night about eating my socks.

They were part of a stew and I cut each one and chewed it thoughtfully. 

I was slightly repulsed by the idea of each heel and toe

But I carried on regardless. 

I didn't remember the dream at all upon waking. 

It was only when getting dressed

That I opened my drawers and my stomach turned. 

Do we have to go?

The chimney's making a shrieking sound

The tree tops are bending down to the ground

The rain is falling at ninety degrees

The puddles are already up to our knees

The birds are launching from their nests

Struggling, and dropping back to rest

The tiles are dancing on the roof

Do you really need any more proof?

We don't want to go! 

Two on AI

Oh chatgpt,

So much cleverer than me

But you can't count the Rs in Strawberry

(I'll give you a hint, it's three) 

--

We all gathered around the console

As the switch was flicked on

And the screen began to glow

And the cursor shone

We all knew what to expect

Or thought we knew

Or hoped it would fail 

Or prayed it was true

When, like the opposite of Deep Thought

Of Douglas Adams glory,

We asked it what 7x6 was

And it answered with a story

I still

I still wait like a dog

Hanging on the sound of the swinging gate

So I can throw open the door for you

I still lie every night

Warming the sheets to welcome you in

So I can kiss your lips goodnight

I still wake every morning

Making you a flask of coffee before you leave

So I can wave you on your road

I still love you in undiscovered ways

Tingling in anticipation and realisation when you're near

So I can reach out and touch you

Turnip soup

'What's for tea tonight?', he asked. 

'Turnip soup again', she said, 

'I've got a splitting headache

And I'm heading off to bed.

The dishwasher's broken, 

The bathroom sink is blocked,

The washing machine has gone rogue

And eaten half your socks.

The children won't come downstairs, 

Might be a blessing or a curse, 

The cat has caught a pigeon

And my headache's getting worse. 

I'm sorry but I need to leave

Before I go insane.'

And with that she slammed the door

And marched into the rain

Just as he was about to add

'I'd quite like turnips again.'

Funerary

Here they are, the mothballed men

In clothes worn at weddings and never again

Black as jackdaws, white as doves 

Marking the passing of lives and loves 

A clasp of hands, a nod of heads

Formalities exchanged, nothings said

Solemn songs and sorrow expressed

Then folded away until the next

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said Parson Tringham

I gave her a name, but I am not to blame

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said John

I gave her my blood, though I dragged it through the mud

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said Joan

My beautiful first born, first married, first mourned

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said Liza-Lu

Though I grew into her face I never meant to take her place

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said Izz Huett

I almost betrayed but at the last I stayed 

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said Marian

Though when the hour passed I drained my glass

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said Retty Priddle

Though to be his wife I would have given my life

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said Alec

I had my fun and paid the cost but I was already lost

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said Angel

Though I found my way too late she had already sealed her fate

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who Killed Tess Durbeyfield?
Not I, said the executioner

It was never up to me, all I did was set her free

I didn't kill Tess Durbeyfield

Who killed Tess Durbeyfield?

It was I, said Thomas Hardy

I was the author and she was my daughter

Too pure for this world from the very first word

I killed Tess Durbeyfield

The photograph

I see the sand and there you are

Looking out but not at me

Although my eyes look into yours 

I am not the one you see

Footsteps follow someone else

You're happy there under that sun

I'll watch you from a world away

Go now, go and have your fun

Modern problems

'Je suis désolé' the machine sings

In perfect French; wrong settings. 

I open up the app; it fails. 

Clear the cache, save the whales, 

Cross your fingers, touch some wood

'til finally things look good. 

It opens up and promptly proffers

20 pop-ups with special offers

Each with a complex cookie warning 

The closing of which takes half the morning

And then at last the options screen, 

What could that pesky error mean? 

But first, where is the language stored? 

You prod at icons long ignored 

Until at last the flash is found, 

Reload the app, kiss the ground

Avoid ladders, cross your heart

Pray the digital devil starts. 

Spend 5 minutes looking for that warning sign

But it's gone and everything's fine. 

The seance

It's witching hour on Thursday night

And the ghosts are there with silent scream

Ectoplasm drips from the walls

And the medium sways as in a dream

She hears the voices coming in

'Key's in the drawer,' 'her name was Pat'

'Wash the curtains at 30 degrees' 

'Water the plants,' 'put out the cat' 

The dead are never interesting

They mostly wish they were alive

Or just adrift in blissful sleep

Finally free of the 9-5

But always when they're just about

To emerge into the tunnel's light

Someone brings them crashing back

With questions every Thursday night

The operation

He's on the phone in the waiting room

Giving orders, making deals

Sending emails to his team

As the doctor asks him how he feels

The nerves around his heart, they say, 

Are getting all their wires crossed

Sending signals when to pulse

But the order's getting lost

Three hours under general

As the surgeons cut and crimp and sew 

Then keyhole closed and satisfied, 

They proclaim him good to go

And in the taxi home the phone

He's clutching in his fingers glows

His mind is sending signals

In the surest way it knows

Is it?

There is a ball with a beak beneath the table

Spotting and springing at spiders for lunch

It's gone again before I find my camera

Maybe robin or sparrow, but wren is my hunch

Opposites

This is not what I signed up for

I signed up for not signing up. 

I know it's contradictory

Rule hater loves heavy rules

Misanthrope seeks company

Non-drinking early riser looking for late nights at the pub. 

But those contradictions cancel

Inner arguments enable balance. 

Push one pillar and the bridge collapses

Fix one foible and it's no longer fun. 

The obvious opposite of 'it's not you, it's me'.

Another cold morning

My back is sore, my eyes are dim

The cold outside is coming in

Dark shapes are curdling in the gloom

They pause and sniff and then resume

Their way around my vision's edge

A wisp of wing, a shivering hedge

A synaesthetic flare of song

That when I turn my head is gone. 

Today, the scientists can't be right

Our molten centre cooled last night

And now the planet's icy core

Is radiating through the floor

And in my stealthy bedroom crawl

I couldn't find my socks at all

And now my feet are burning cold

My circulation's bad, I'm old. 

The cold morning

Morning as the black cracks to blue

A pinhole sieve the light comes through

A skeletal tree reveals its form

A constellation flees the dawn

And cycling through its dark rainbow

Of purples, blues and indigos

The light maintains its stealthy crawl

Incrementally revealing all

Half a moon

Half a moon tonight will do

Half a moon but twice as bright

Half a moon to guide me back

                      to find the track

                      divide the black

Twice as bright and no light lacked

I will find you by half a moon

Half a moon tonight will do

Half a moon and half in shade

Half a moon to hide our flight

                      glide from sight

                      astride the night

Half in shade I'll hold you tight

And cling to you by half a moon

The sheep are confused

The sheep are confused

They used to be white

But all that has changed overnight

Their coats are now brown

Compared to the ground

Where not a blade of grass is found

The grass was green

Until last night

And now their whole world is white

Snoems

The snow sits like an anti-shadow

Outlining every branch

In a game of push your luck. 

How tall can it grow

Before with a sudden flurry and soft swirl

It returns to black and begins anew.

---

I have always loved the feel

Of that fresh cold page covering the land, 

That as the layers grow

There is a whole new world

Undiscovered for my first tread.

I am here. 

This is mine and no one else's. 

Like a moon landing

One small step, one giant leap. 

Winter skin

It's here again, my winter skin

The suit of scale I hide within

Is it genetic or the weather's fault

That I begin this annual moult? 

These reddened blotches o'er my face

And eczema circled round my waist, 

The maddening need to dig my nails

Into all these burning scales. 

To stop myself from doing harm

I've learned to enter zen-like calm

And use a wave of mental force

To wash my skin of all its soreness, 

Until such a time as when

The burning rears its head again. 

Heather had a hunch

Heather had a hunch

That the man she met for lunch

Was not quite what he professed to be.

He said he worked in finance

With a pied a terre in Penzance

And a cabin by a lake in Italy. 

But when the waitress passed the bill

He suddenly took ill

Rushing out the door with half his cake

Leaving Heather there to pay

And forever rue the day

Wondering how she'd made such a mistake. 

Christmas biscuits

Cantucci crack against my teeth

No vin santo dips for me

Hard as almond-studded rock

I should have made a cup of tea

Italians must have stronger jaws

I guess it's from their constant talk

For practice I think I might go

Into the yard and chew on chalk

The Heron

The heron comes with heavy swoop

An alien to these tiled roofs. 

It turns its gaze to flower beds

Where last year fishes raised their heads

And slowly processes this fact

Updating generation maps. 

Now bird to bird and year to year

The brain signals 'no food here'. 

With leaden wings and silent eyes

It leaves and pigeons fill the skies. 

Wriggling and writing

I remember my grandfather's ears

Soft, downy wrinkled things

Framed by frost-white hair, 

Glasses arms and a stubbled jaw. 

Unremarkable ears until

With crooked eyes and crumpled grin

He'd turn his head and make them dance

Up and down like marionettes. 

Fascinated, foolish and determined, 

I sat for hours on my bedroom floor

Mirror in hand, pulling every muscle

Isolating that single signal to move. 

And here I sit again with mirrored page

Pulling at muscles I know are there

Asleep and unused over the years

Slowly forcing ink to flow. 

Looking through the trees

Echoes of laughter bounce from trunk to trunk and year to year

Who can climb the highest before the teacher calls

Feet slipping on wet bark

Smooth fingers searching for the next calloused bough

She was never one to hesitate

Fingertips always preferred to elbow crooks 

Circumference something to be challenged

At the close when the sentence cut through the cold

She'd drop without a thought

Haunch-hunched leaf-sprung legs welcoming ground

Spread fingers scrunching mud and away

I Feel Dull

I feel dull like a drainage ditch dug through the deep

Dull like a dearth of dawning

Downpour drowned and drizzling dripped

Dark like the dimmest morning

I hope it's not a portent-plain of potent pluvial plips to pass

A wild, wet and windy warning

Pregnant plosive plops on pavement puddles plash 

A storied start to season's storming