I was delighted to be invited as a guest onto the Decadent Airwaves poetry programme on Beyond Radio.
Reading poems from some of my favourite poets and my poems was a pleasure as was the company of Paul Fisher, Matt Panesh and Amelie.
Poetry darts was fun too!
You can listen to the broadcast here
(in response to a walk on the seafront in Heysham)
The cool breeze wraps around my ears,
I forget a camera and pause,
absorbed in panoramic view,
the bay brings peace to thoughts,
freedom whispers around in silence,
Cumbrian mountains in mist
like a citadel to a secret world,
not a ripple of water around me
in sight of the ocean.
My eyes close
and reflect this moment of solitude,
the soul calmed and captured in this stillness,
sky reaches out forever
my concern released to the world,
twilight direct to heart,
encapsulating the mind.
Silence echoes in the choice of path,
my feet step in the dry terrain,
trees reach high and light peters through the leaves,
where butterflies glide and bird’s fly
in nature’s spiritual shrine,
unlocks mechanics of mind
like dapples of light from a stained-glass window,
bringing freedom and release,
a new lease of life.
The arched sheltered trees meet,
eclipse the nine to five,
away from that small working room,
here there is everything to find,
when the view opens,
trees stand alone in solitude and resilience
with roots anchored into the earth,
escape in the compass needle,
works the inner dynamo.
Ascend the Old Pale Hill,
look down on the Cheshire Plain,
see the Mountains of Snowdonia,
that distant volcanic rock,
a landscape of mix steep gorges,
a chain of heather clad fells,
between the hills of the Clwydian Range,
sun light projects and hears the heart open,
for nature to carry and lift the soul,
like pollen from the bees,
a rich source of protein
and the sturdy trees feed their wisdom.
As day draws to its climax, red sun falls in patchwork cloud; fragmented colours of pink lie across the horizon in fading blue sky’s canvas, holding onto the day in mid summer’s moment; air passes bridges and trees flower.
If this is paradise, then I’m in heaven, cocooned in Nature’s bosom. For this time I reason with nobody, nature is mine to see what I choose. Inspiration reflects from water. The darkness cuts through a thousand images, as day folds gently over the bay.
The colour of seasons squeezed on canvas, like the voices echoing from the paint brush, mixing the soft and the strong, echoing and spreading like the wings of a dove released into the sea breeze, waves fold and cast the summer aside, the days begin to hide away, looking into myself through layers, visioning to reinvent myself.
(in response to ‘Innocent Perceptions II’ by Helen Morgan)
Bleak clouds sweep across the sky casting shadows, like a black and white motion picture, nature dormant, a little piece of heaven breaks through, broken by the blank of Autumn, shading the mountain tops like a dull mirage, fragmenting the fall, this barren landscape.
Small animals hide away behind wild blowing heather on hillside, reluctant in their homeland, silence echoes in twisted landscape, belonging to the atmosphere, auburn colour breathes warmth like a cosmic charge, around withered shrubbery and shimmering time.
I see the storm behind you. A cascade of sea and sky moving earth’s core, spiralling flairs escape, wind strikes the rain down, a tsunami blows water into light.
I reach for my compass.
Nothing but the elements, the wilderness is its own, outside the sea of chaos, waves unleash to freedom, forcing the world away.
A cascade of waves, the pull of moon, casting stars aside, triggering channels, exploding light, absorbing clouds pulsate, merging, forming, turning on axis, echoing all the way back to shore like a bird returning home, fragments surfacing, pushing elements forward, in majestic charge, reflection clears and grows like an eye in a magnifying glass, light absorbs the surface, dark particles obscure nature’s canvas.
Charged by cosmic light, nature’s stirring emotion casts its spell, in the geostrophic wind of senses in a pensive breath, waking the dead, rising a spirit from persecution and pain, the light of the moon shines out of darkness, breaking the division, in the blizzard of time’s decay, growth reflects the soul, for the flowering bud, sensitive to touch in the hands of precious attention, while expression bonds echoing whispers, submissive to the scent.