I think, I think I know If I'm good or
If I'm really bad and just deluded.
Many will see the first two lines they saw
Reading there the answer self included.
And so it is, and so I face my fate
A hobbiest for life and nothing more,
Forgetting days and writing way to late
Another pile of words we can ignore.
But really, really, really isn't fame
A joke that our existence has made up?
When Sonder comes, alone we take the blame,
And lonely we drink from our broken cup.
So, all in all, it must be done for me,
And whether it's irrelevant, we'll see.


There is a wolf who scratches at my door
His claws are long, his eyes a vicious green.
He's been there for a thousand years or more
His jaws are strong, his hungry eyes are mean.
I hear his scratching late at night until
I fall asleep; and then throughout the night;
And when I wake up in the morning still
I hear him outside howling at the light.
So hungry is the heart he longs to eat
So old and frail the bones he longs to chew,
That I know I will never once defeat
This creature of the night except through you.
For you have told me love will save the day,
And this I keep believing, come what may.


Don't really want to write a sonnet now
But, then again, perhaps, maybe I do,
I like to lay my thoughts out in a row
And play some little rhyming games with you.
It's lovely at the ending of the day
To have a chance to think of all I've done
To do this thing that never fades away
A little puzzle I can do for fun.
It's nice to put the brakes on for a bit
The days run by so fast that I get lost,
I aim my gun all day but never hit
The mark. And at what self inflicted cost?
It's nice to write a poem now and then
And let my thoughts bleed out inside a pen.


My brain is so wonderful that I can
Unravel the knots that ravelled my kite
And tail. I spread them out, just like a fan
And slowly with my fingers, smooth and light,
I start to start undoing, soothing each
Thread. Until I soon can see the tail grow,
Out beyond the kite and far out of reach.
My fingers trace each twist and turn so slow
And thread the tail through tiny little holds
And thread the plastic string's wheel through as well
And watch the way the tangle soon unfolds
Until there are no twistings anymore,
And we can fly the kite just like before.


To Marlowe Matilda Barrington-Peek
Welcome to a world where warriors win,
Be tough, be strong, yet also mild and meek
It's hard sometimes, but smile and don't give in.
The world can be a really lovely place
But it can be quite cruel and hard as well,
Attempt to ride the ups and downs with grace
And don't ever let anybody tell
You what to do, or how things should be done.
You know the same as anyone what's best.
Do things you find worthwhile and have some fun
Remember you're a soul on earth and blessed.
If you find love then keep it near and know
You're very lucky and don't let it go.


See how quickly the world can wear you down?
Fifty-three and all my edges are gone,
A pebble on the beach that's all ground down
A shadow where my sunny youth once shone.
I've tried to hold the waters back but no
The tide will never turn for me alone
I'm buffeted and dragged both to and fro
And worn away like any other stone.
I'm sad, and yet I simply must accept
That this is what all life is like on earth
And I must try and wake where once I slept
And try to do the things that give life worth.
So, day to day I try to be on guard
For these depressing thoughts that make life hard.


When I wake up and I have time to write,
And I am not four childrened off my feet,
It's like a gifted day where thoughts take flight
And my life once again can feel complete.
What is it that creation seems to stir?
Why are these writing moments so sublime?
How does this Wonderful ever occur?
Why does it feel like I am stopping time?
Maybe it's true, the Now I stretch with words
Stops time. It seems so, and it also seems
As though my thoughts are like magical birds
That, as they land upon this page of dreams,
Connect me to the past that once was me
And everything that I will ever be.


I have a diamond that I'm going to move
For you. I think it's very valuable.
Although, perhaps, maybe, except for love,
Pricing it will be an uncomfortable
Task. What if it cannot even be done?
What if there is no price that can be paid?
The rich say, "All things have a price, it's fun."
I'm not so sure though, diamonds never fade
Away. They're not pain or pretty flowers.
I've been looking at it, it's in my hand,
It's like an amazing star, but it's ours.
It makes me think of all the dreams we've planned.
I have to get it to you, like I said.
Or maybe I could bring you here instead?


We stumble from the darkness into beds
The night has cast its shadow round our eyes
We lay our pillows down beneath our heads
We let our breathing disappear to sighs.
The night has come and we can now recharge
The batteries that wasted through the day,
And all the things we did that seemed so large
Are now transparent in their special way.
I close my eyes and watch my thoughts retreat
I stumble back through images and dreams,
I walk the world on twisted yellow feet
Where all is backwards yet still as it seems.
At last the time has come to dream again
And run from all the thinking in my brain.


With tender heart and feet of washed up gold With eyes that burn where never sun begins, The heart of all the pieces that were sold The eyes of all the devil's painted sins. The aching and the bliss are slowly poured Into the spaces that were left unfilled, Where all the fiery animals have roared And all the men of diamond have been killed. We speak not twice of leisure's twisted brow We speak not how the whys and wishings go We speak only of wanting left and now We summon up the courage left to show For every word that's uttered with a kiss, Is trampled under sordid feet of bliss.


I’m once more back and back again to yield
These little bits of simples from my brain,
The flags wave high across the Buckswood field
It seems so strange to be here once again.
My mother’s moved, the whole world has moved on,
Like traffic passing by that will not stop.
I’m here to meet a man whose name is Jon,
How quickly all our dreams fall when they drop.
How many verses are there in these things?
It’s been four years since I last started this
When we lay down where Roquebrun river sings
Oh, how I long for that past that I miss.
But here we are, and now we are, will stay
As I wake up, once more, Sonnet-a-day.

A Stranger's Eyes

I look at China through a stranger's eyes
The train flies by as though all things were new
At random in the fields a grave it lies 
Where bright red flowers stretch to skies of blue.
In San Li Tun we found Mojito Man
For 15RMB thought's drained away
And we sit watching and we understand
That we know nothing but we still obey.
In Qufu women dry their grain on roads
And we eat fish and rice off metal trays
Watch people with their bikes and heavy loads
And sonder floods us in our seperate ways.
And now I read these fragile words and yearn
With all my heart that soon I will return.


To see if it can still be done at all
Or if those years of practice are all done
To see if words will still appear and fall
Into their places gently one by one.
I haven't written these things for so long
I haven't had the time or felt the urge
But now there's something calling and I long
To sit back down and see what will emerge.
I love the form, it's simple three and end
That structure that's so fun to work around
So stiff and yet so good to ply and bend
To work with and to see what can be found.
So all the sonnets written in the past
Are joined by yet another here at last.