celestes change by clever design in a painting of skittish guise above and below the skyline the sea darkens as morning dies at high tide...

This is her last chance - like the queen of cats on life nine. Caught up in the sins of a man, his gristle, no more. Coarse sands grind...

https://agapereview.com/2021/08/03/thedoor/ thank you team Agape Review!

There is just enough moon-crescent light to stoke the fires. The area of a rectangle is a function of its length and width. These two...

For Paul Cézanne Your condition transports me to a healthier place Shadows slip off easels and places change and depths change. like...

I am like an iris trying to colour with blue grape. But, the canvas is snatched away. I am like a Cedar Waxwing trying to sing in a place...

Climb up that steep hill There are no hedges, no tracks A rural, russet light is sure to delight us Reach the far summit There is a...

The red road becomes our ski slope when its bricks are hidden by ice. Sledging, we scratch silver sheets and feel our laughter and...

A tricube poem (written on holiday): Portwrinkle housed pilchards for a time. Fish cellars became home to soldiers. New uses for pilchard...

I see God’s beauty in your eyes of paradise. Then, stillness strikes me. The peace of the world waits for the sun’s upper rim to break...

Gripping life as Paris holds onto the promise of victory. Problems mount as Paris considers being a supreme ruler. Losing air as Paris...

Cherishing some time on the beach with dear Rosie: Barking wavefronts I hear chords as we sit on beach stones and absorb wavefront barks...

The illusion works better than orange, sodium streetlights. All I could ever wish for. Heartfelt and hearty. Domestic bliss, a pedestal...

The hypostatic union shines brighter than Sirius Full God, full man, gripped on the cross waiting... the man’s body dies tearing a...

In man our keratin grows from our follicles. We host this sorcery, sightless. Silent. Our hair covers bodies. Barricading the sun,...

producing poison is to unsettle a soul and then demand it to find an apex in cornerless countries. to rip its outline with uncaring,...

So pleased to have one of poems (entitled (Backbone’) featured in the next issue of Marble (Broadsheet) - happy days! Please check out...

Holidays are the icing on the cake. The buttercream. Bad times in our lives swallow kindnesses. The hurting ice. Water droplets lose heat...

My bloodline forms road markings as I walk through the village. Rough senses of rawness and rage and a rare resilience creep across my...