it’s the winter you’re having

when you’re not having winter

he says, pulling on boots and shorts in august

meanwhile, in a place quite south of here

snow falls on mountain peaks

serial snowmen stalk the resorts

{mass slaughter on a monumental scale}

and the moon silently weeps



Copyright August 2017

The Weary Dragon


weariness settles

like an ageing dragon

wrapped lovingly around my spine

small sparks of fire

shoot out into hips and shoulders

whilst the scales of youth

fall from my eyes

with a smoky sigh



Copyright August 2017


After The Porridge


after the porridge

I get to thinking about the day

how the humidity from last night

seems to linger in the air

even though the thunderstorm is long gone

I hear a few birds chattering

probably happy with the added bit of warmth

blanketing the wintry crispness of mornings past

it feels like spring no matter what the calendar says

it blatantly lies in black and white

and the picture of the turtle underwater

seems to agree with me

it’s warm enough to swim

especially if you own a carapace

or have blue blood running through your veins

the clock strikes nine and I’m reminded

of all the things I’d planned to do today

after the porridge



Copyright August 2017




walking through the shopping centre

I notice the new season fashions

looking remarkably the same as the old

{hanging dismally on $5 racks}

the same boring patterns repeated

the same the same the same

who designs these things? I ask

walking quickly to the book shop

in my old boots and jeans and T-shirt



Copyright August 2017