Frosty Flower

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Greasy

Real smells in your nose,
Real noise in your ears
Baggy overalls and roll-ups
Diesel engines, choking smoke

Big old machinery, greasy, unused
An MG missing panels,
battered and bruised

A straight 4, lying spare
Polish phrase-book, thumbed and worn

Mugs without handles,
Newspaper, weeks old
Laughter and banter,
The warmth in the cold

FireStrorm

A thousand timid thoughts scatter

Ahead of the firestorm in my brain

I struggle to suppress

The inflamatory spark

Once lit, the thought-kindling catches

And the smokeless flame

Needs no more fuel

The conflagration rages, crackling and roaring

A fruitless search for coherent focus

Looking back on

The dying embers of concentration.

Sparks floating on the breeze

of a dark winter’s night

Finally the calm in the cold of November

Blankets my mind and

Envelopes my conscieness and

Mind-peace comes as I balance

Before Sleep