Two of my poems published in The Dawntreader

Two of my poems, Sigurd and Windmill and Rainbow, have been published in The Dawntreader, a quarterly poetry magazine, published by Indigo Dreams Publishing: Website and Bookshop: http://www.indigodreams.co.uk
Facebook Group: http://www.facebook.com/indigodreamspublishing
My poem, Searching For The Sangreal, was published in the 023 Summer 2013 issue of the same magazine, my poem, The Fair Majesty of Folk at Peace was published in the 026 Summer 2014 issue, and now Sigurd and Windmill and Rainbow in the 029 Winter 2014/2015 issue. So in this month of January, 2015, my poem, What The Shepherds Saw, was published in my local newspaper, the Liverpool Echo, my poem, Song For Luthien Tinuviel, was published in Mallorn, the Journal of the Tolkien Society, and my two poems, Sigurd and Windmill and Rainbow were published in The Dawntreader.

                                                     Sigurd

Listen. Thunder clouds,
herds of black bison
stampede silent space.
Wait. Relief of rain.
Hut folk from windows watch
lashed land, hardened face.
Trauma. When storm broke,
something slept in a sudden woke.
Loom weaver hand mosaic moved,
bright beads changed place.
Wake. Birds spread wings in water.
Air clear. Survivors show gratitude
for given grace.
Blow horn. Names of mighty men remain.
Sword of Sigurd the dragon Fafnir slain.

                         Windmill and Rainbow

Windmill and rainbow,
noon light and shadow,
canal and meadow,
busy stone worker,
mirror on water,
brush stroked by Turner.
Another world lensed,
I cannot enter,
only gaze on from outside,
stood still in my corner,
wishing I could walk in,
step over the border,
explore what lies beyond frames,
where there are colours and shapes,
too new to have names.
Somewhere, find an inn,
for bread, beer and bed,
quietly, upstairs, sleep in a loft.
Morning, at the window,
smile on more than windmill and rainbow,
journey on, further and deeper,
onlooker no longer. 

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The Gospel of Derek

The Gospel of Derek

The gospel of Derek is little known,
being not one by which the church has grown.
It was found in Egypt under a stone,
a dusty scroll stained with script,
deciphered by scholars alone.
Rumoured to be short,
a few fragments of speech,
it mentions Derek,
but it seems he had little to teach.
He complains that a camel
once stood on his toe,
and coughed in his ear,
to give wings to his woe.
“What news is that to us?” his hearers say.
“It was painful to me,” he tells them,
before gruffly, they move away.
In the final fragment, so poor,
he dresses in no more than a sack,
he complains that an ostrich
butted him once in the back.
The patron saint of complainers
perhaps he should be.
Better than being forgotten,
Derek might sagely agree.
And yet some Bible scholars obscurely see,
to many mysteries and secrets,
the gospel of Derek may still hold the key.