Bluepeter Miracle

(one I made earlier)
Almost one o'clock in the afternoon
Clouds roll by in comfortable twos
Neighbour's chimney casts a happy shadow
Like a benevolent and sensitive hand
Now stroking the grey slated roof
Minor midday miracles made and played by me

Out With Owen

Conversation Lapping
Babbling in the crooks
Of our circle and beyond
Tickles the ears of those
Sitting next to us, pleasing you
Like a pleasant exam paper,
Francis Bacon friend knowing
Talk should come home to no man but
Should play and stray
For many a lilting hour now
Exhilarated and tingling
Voice growing stronger and lighter
Travelling farther than ever before
Resonant at the centre of us all
Leading us deftly in the
Languid rambles of
Comfort and inebriation

My Friend The Sauntering Sponge

Kind incongruous features
Skin creamy in bleached hues
Eyes green with a watery sheen
Like a cut kiwi, wet and clean

Smudged at the edges
But neat as sliced meat
Hair thick as five hedges
Falling softly the colour of sleet

Treading slowly and softly
Both crooked and straight
Bobbing lowly then lofty
And swathed gently in extra weight

^