“ The Hall Runner ” ~ runs not ~


I’ve a runner

Runs not,

Not even a step,

A mat of sorts

In a weave

That cavorts,

Thus so conceived

As the hall runner…


Made so to go

From end to other,

Hence down the hall

Till it can reach

The opposite wall…


If you should ask

What of its task,

It’s but to cover

A floor said under,

Thus to walk over

Free of noise bother

For ladies in jumpers

Prancing in unders,

At times without,

Down the hall runner!



“ Living ” ~ more than less ~


I thought

I might

Be living

Smartly tight,

As I believe

In doing life, 

Just as I like,

Thus so compose

The kind of play

I need not sway,

To have my say,

If I am to delay

The onslaught

Of the fated day,

Hence to decide

The when or where

I so choose care,

To tell I’ve done

At least enough

There be some left,

After my bones

Had gone to rest,

When thus so bent

The more than less,

I’d counted myself spent!


“ Echoes ” ~ of melancholy ~


I’ve come to feel

More than I hear,

Sounds that echo

Disquieting fears,

Of memory’s stead,

To suffer imagines

Played in my head,

That come to haunt

Tho long felt dead…


Yet lingers there

In lugubrious tell,

I’m made endure

Alleged indeed

By way of hell,

What so remains

Of minds loth claim,

Held worrying echoes

Of melancholy!


“ The Child In Me ” ~ a shade of used to be ~


Tho many say

He’s but a shadow

Of used to be,

I play their game

But truly feel

He’s still the same,

The child in me…


Some even doubt

He still be there,

And more maintain

I am for naught,

The child is gone,

My hopes are fraught

With dreams

Of used to be…


But I say not,

I know the child

Yet lives in me,

And always must

As part of man,

From birth

Until that day

We turn to dust…


It matters not,

Though but a shade

Of used to be,                                                                                       

I know it’s him,                                                                             

And so insist                                                                                                                

He still exists

The child in me! 


“ The Stone ” ~ vowed to child’s wish ~

I find the child

Who lives in me,

Holds to the wish

Made on a stone,

To stay within

The who I’d be,

Tho then too soon

To know or see,

And now too late

To care ‘tis me,

Yet chose not seen

To be set free,

From living still

A child within,

Whose soul adrift,

Thus so not want

To leave behind,

Upon that hill

What once did bind,

Vowed to child’s wish,

The stone he touched,

That lives on in his mind!                                    

                                                                                        ode to Thomas

                                                                                    conspirator friend

                                                                                  of the wishing stone

“ Forced Ingress ” ~ upon the less inclined ~


It takes more

Than time

To understand

Forced ingress,

Where intention

Stems inducement

Of a partisan mind,

So to impose direction

To hedonistic convention

Upon the less inclined,

Who cherish liberty

Thus deem not accept

Being so influenced

By zealot automatons,

Who imperiously

Ever pressure

For the acceptance  

Of their governance,

Whose dubious measure

By rigged intervention        

Be of ambiguous kind!