Glass Shadows

Glass shadows glide by unseen

By muddied eyes, the eyes of man.

Composed of light- they see not in sight

Unlike the simple shallow optics of us,

The wanderers of the lower plane.

They see in the superlative sense

They see the temporal tides of time,

The stretching sea of seas.

They recede and proceed at will

Among the tides of man.

They see us bury our dead-

In rows and rows of soil-lined holes

Filled with soiled men, men soiled by war-

And when the curtains of earth fold around the fallen

And when the night becomes theirs-

The shadows drift by unseen…



I am in a car,

Stepping out.

I walk into a shop,

Not spending any money,

I feel in my pocket,

I have £26.00,

Two £10 notes.

One £5 note.

And a one pound coin.

Strange that I should notice this.

I get back in the car,

I start the engine…


I have lost something.

You were the yang to my yin.

I was the smart one, you were the rebel.

My family tried to raise me,

But you were more than family,

They try too hard to stop my grief.


Because of you, my role is now reversed,

I am yang, yet still yin.

I am now the rebel.

I try and force a change upon my mind and sprit.

I can not change, I need to tip the balance,

Of my heart and mind.

I sit on my bed on this fateful night, I am a fading light.

The cold rain falls, covering my window with dripping droplets,

My hands shiver as I grasp the bottle, as I dye my hair pink, 

This seemingly insignificant act is my symbolic, cataclysmic last straw.


I step out of my room,

Into the the hall.


I am home.

I am not leaving.

I just need to breathe…


I say this as I go out the back,

Leaving the door unlocked.


I start walking up a rain covered road,

Mercury-like water flows down this slope,

This is a very black road, my darkest night.


I get on the bus to everywhere,

When I get there,

Will I even care,

Or have enough to pay the fare?


I feel in my pocket,

I have £26.00,

Two £10 notes.

One £5 note.

And a one pound coin.

Strange that I should notice this.


Green, yellow, white,

A triad of hallucinogenic colours

on this bright night horizon,


Strange black trees stand either side of this narrowing road

They move with the road, they are stark sudden movements,

The trees get closer to each other as the road narrows,

Till they merge into a blurry line as the road disappears.


Goodbye reality…


Smashed glass,

The bed stained pink…

Glass Soul

I am ripped to shards of finest glass,

I have been forced to leave.

Surrounded by

darkest air,

deepest despair.

I speak, but there is no answer back,

I reach out, and there is no hand to grab…

I am a person with no shadow,

A shadow with no person.

I am an after-image blur of who I was when complete,

Light is no more.

I feel myself fading to the air,

Hopelessness chokes me as ivy chokes the tree that was at unity with nature


Before this insidious interruption,

this barrier between it and life,

Between you and me.

The gap in the trees.

I stand waiting,

Waiting for the end of a circle,

And the beginning of a ripple,

There are ripples In the air.

and the ground is weathered from many walks.

I stand,look and see,

The gap in the trees,

Where everyone goes,

But no one knows what will be,

Through the cloudy sea of the air,

The light change’s my sight,

And the gap grows smaller,

Yet everyone fits,

Because it’s smaller like a funnel,

That can not be fixed.

The rusty orange air can be seen,

Above a building, framed an organic picture,

This is all through the gap in the trees,

That everyone knows,

And everybody goes.

Race to the end. (A Haiku)

A race we all want to lose,
With hurdles along the way,

Note to readers: This poem may seem contradictory, in that no one wants to lose at life. However what I was trying to get across was that no one wants to finish life before others, rather many would want to let others go first even though to see friends finish life first is as painful as lagging behind, figuratively losing. If I were to edit this haiku today I would change it drastically to “a race we never want to finish” among other changes. However this is an old poem (3 years old) so I wish to leave it as it originally was. I won’t normally put notes and thoughts on my poems but this was an exception. In the comments below please tell me whether adding notes like this to my poetry would enhance my poetry or detract from it.

Singly Me

Pressure all around.

Reality shrinking round me.

Everything compressed,

All existence and all feeling itself,

Enough power to crush a man,

No end, the beginning has been forgotten,

was there ever one?

As this reverses I begin to cope,

All things and all problems are spaced out,

So it is easier to understand and deal with?

Homesick of the dark.

The darkness follows me as I move forward through the night

I look out into the reflections of black,
I pass under a tunnel and see the shadows on the walls that tell all.

Ever onward, I feel the blackness change, I do not see, but I know the world is growing, changing as the train goes on.

Black has shades, indistinguishable by sight but icy clear to the feelings of my body.

My destination will soon be here,
And my black, my night, my own shadowy darkness will also be here and I will go home to sleep in it.