Anyone for a skinny dip?

I notice that my rugby friend was recently invaded by an uninvited nudist Here. And then she published a picture of a vacant swimming pool Here

Does she know how my mind works?

Will she forgive me?


Goodness gracious

Ain’t that cool?

There’s no-one at

The swimming pool

No one here

To steal our sun

No one here

To see our fun

No one here to point

And stare

So who will notice

What we wear?

Just me and you

Just you and me




The sky above


Secret love

Don’t think me naughty

Think me rude

Let’s take a dip

Let’s do it nude

My Eternal Commitment. For a week or so.

My lead comes from Cyranny (again). She speaks of a love that endures for eternity and beyond. I speak of one that might not go quite that far.

But she really does bring out the true romantic in me, don’t you think?


I like your look

I like your style

I think I’ll love you

For a while

I’ll hold you gently

Love you fast

For however long

It lasts

But know the truth

Please know our fate

All good things

Have a use-by date

But just for now

I can pretend

That this affair

Will never end

I’ll keep you cosy

Keep you hot

I’ll keep you for this long

Or not

Let’s do it now

Before it’s cold

Let’s love

Before we get too old

A week? A month?

I can’t be clear

I might still love you

All next year

To fall in love

Is that a crime?

But eternity?

That’s quite some time…..

I will soon be rotten

I’m sitting alone in a restaurant in Santiago, Chile. Today I wandered down to the Museum of Visual Art and pondered the unknowable for an hour or so. And then I walked through the park and looked at all the pretty young people sunning themselves on the lawn amongst the shadows of the trees and of the monuments.

High above the snow is still on the mountains but the river is raging with that which has already surrendered to the heat.

A moment ago my new pal Meg reminded me of the ravages of age. I felt suddenly thankful for the life that I have had and was reminded also of a quote from Henry Miller …

which goes something like this

I am so thoroughly healthy and empty. No dreams, no desires. I am like the luscious deceptive fruit which hangs on the Californian trees. One more ray of sun and I will be rotten

Little Dreams

And here I go again.

Continuing the habit (is it a bad habit? I’m not sure) of stealing other people’s ideas and tinkering with them a little to make them sound like my own …. I do so again, this time taking the lead from Stella who writes (I think) of hunger and imagination.

Just a whisper

Just a word

These little bits of you

I’ve heard

Your little hint

Of perfume sweet

A glimpse of lace

Or satin sheet

My little thoughts

Of you in sight

Just little dreams

Of you at night

Sipping on

Your special brew

And tasting

Little bits of you

Little Lies

To continue with a pattern …

Another poem from Cyranny caught my attention and hence drew a response. I repeat that response here, hopefully without the need for further explanation.


Tell me lies

And hypnotise me

As we catch our breath

Let’s hold the mood

When we were rude

And shared our little death

Let’s pretend

It will not end

That we will not be seen

That we will stay

And hide away

To be what we have been

We’ll fib. We’ll fake

A wall we’ll make

Around our precious sin

A web we’ll weave

Of make believe

To hide our secrets in

And here’s another one

This time from Stella who has some troubles sleeping sometimes and whose thoughts (I am sure she won’t mind me telling you) drift occasionally into the erotic.

Crisp linen sheets and candlelight
Together we will lay
Together we will dream of night
But also dream of day
Another sunset we will share
The blanket of our skin
Together still at sunrise
When again we will we begin
I live a dream. I’m hypnotised
I start each day anew
I have no need of opiates
My only drug is you

Loves Lost at Sea





I have very few thoughts of my own. What little inspiration comes to me comes from the words of others and, most frequently, from you people. And believe me – you are ALL inspiring, for one reason or another. I can rarely summon more than snide comments upon other people’s posts and that is normally where they remain. Now and again I repost some of these comments not to draw attention to myself but rather to draw attention to thier origins.

In this instance I wish to draw your attention to Cyranny

Most of you, of course, are well aware of her talents already.

My response takes on a more melencholy tone than does hers as well as the nautical theme. And a few mixed metaphors, perhaps. Such is my mood.


Lend me your arm

Let me share in your calm

Will you shelter me during the night?

Lend me your hand

And please understand

That what’s wrong, may one day be right

Touch me again

In the wind and the rain

As the waves wash over our past

Let me mould with your form

As we weather the storm

As together we cling to the mast

What was over can start

If you lend me your heart

When again we catch sight of the land

When our ship comes to shore

You will love me once more

And together we’ll sleep on the sand