It isn't just the sun
or even the blue sky
so bright and clear.
No, it isn't just
on the outside
with my smiling face
and my cheerful disposition.
On the inside,
deep inside
I feel like I'm a winner.
On the way back from Interact
I was smiling
quite broadly
because I feel like
the gogetter that I am.
Everything is open
for me.
Everything is there
for me
to solve
resolve
and complete.
That's the best part
of being a winner.

We haven’t cycled together for years.
First he started to struggle with hills,
which once he’d get up without changing gear.
Then there were the spate of punctures and flats

he never bothered to learn how to fix.
I bought him those special Kevlar tyres,
extra hard and endurable. That were
champion until he began to complain

of pain in his knees and couldn’t come
as far as I’d like. Then he’s knocked off
his bike outside the chip shop. "This car
drove straight at me like I weren’t there.

I once had a body with teeth that used to bite
Feet that were meant to run, heels digging in the mud
And a heart which now only aches

I had hands that used to write
Of which now have no use
Any thought I am bound to think
Comes only from the code from which I’m made

I once had a body
One you could touch and fold
Eyes that could roll, a hand to hold
A heart to heal

Old English on parchment paper,
the smell of sandalwood wafting in the air
An invitation with no signature,
Bidding her welcome, but did she dare?

Another letter, instructions that followed,
an address this time, "come find the black door."
Incense graced her fingertips,
foreboding so much more.

Into the darkest of nights,
under the coldest blanket of air,
As promised, a carriage awaited,
but her admirer was not there.

The birds still fly north every winter
They know where to go
And they still make it back in time
For spring, every year

There's a story out in the west
About a bird who flew a thousand miles
North before every winter
And still made it back
To the same tree
One day when he returned
He found his tree cut down
For such, is life

Dialogue between us
Is hard but not impossible

I will send my messenger
On dark wings

To consummate what is most
Beautiful

The pearl orb hung
low in the sky,
wisps of cloudy tendrils
drifting by her shapely full-face.
Lady moon looked down
to the faithful silver wolf
serenading her from below.
In the frozen distance
traveling the air currents
he caught the young she-wolf's
strong, sustained riposte...
His quavering voice
echoed a heartfelt howl
promise of lupine love
under the stars, a paradise
of passion, frosted breath
on the timberlines...

In the quiet town where whispers meet,
Lives a man with restless feet.
He leaps before his thoughts align,
Tracing paths both wild and fine.

Through cobbled streets, he roams so free,
A heart unchained by destiny.
Yet every turn, a choice unplanned,
Leads him to a troubled land.

He sees a bridge, decides to cross,
Ignoring signs that warn of loss.
The planks beneath his hurried stride,
Creak and groan, yet he’ll abide.

The quotes of wisdom we read and repeat,
Fall like snowflakes around my feet.
Surely they are not meant for me,
I’m already wise as you can see.

I’ve had a few trips around the sun,
And I’ve gotten wiser with everyone.
I dumb things down whenever I talk,
So folks don't turn around and walk.

I can’t be humble although I try,
I'm always right, I ain’t gonna lie.
I look in the mirror whenever I can,
And think, “Now there’s a handsome man.”

To see through a broken mirror,
Reminds of a life hanging on a dying cliff,
Living through perceptions, envisaging heavenly worlds,
Hanging on a thin fabric of wire, crafted from doubt and dreams chewed to shreds and satire.

To see through a broken mirror,
Is like surfing through lost ego,
Memories of love so golden,
Broken to bitter taste of fragile hate,
Cold stares of regret flushed with tears,
Accompanying swallowed pains of longing and faith.