Once I have left these sullen shores

With my paddles and my oars,

I will not look back over my shoulder with hurting heart

And I will not return from whence I depart.


This is to be a journey like no other previous

Momentous, magnificent,meaningful, mischievous.

In truth, I know not where I will go

Or the unheralded haven of my halo


But I will go because I have the means and the will to go

And I will have no shadow.

The ultimacy of my destiny and my fate

Will Lie in Gods hands worthy of the welcome and the wait.


For  this voyage at least if not for others.

Offers not what a simple sailor so easily discovers.,

I will have no crew, no skipper, no pre-demise,,

Only  harnassed hope and  a sense of enterprise.


Born out of cradled curiosity, atomic adventure.

Never lost but scribed in this deft denture..

I dare to leave behind the flirtations and the favours of the lusting lagoon

If it ever is a day too soon..


There will be no moment for regret.

There will be nothing to forget.

This is to be a voyage without dimension

Timeless and unmeasured in distance,  a physical pension.


Oh to have been in the company of  sacred ships

That traverse the horizons and the eclipse.,

Ferries and freighters, barges and paddle steamers,

Be they the maritime world of realists and dreamers.


I think I have always been a boat

To Sail  the oceans of the world afloat,

To circumnavigate earth’s continental land masses

Amid the giant gorges and crevasses..


I go with wily wonder and aimless abandon,

Oblivious to any penitence.

God alone will be my constant  companion

And life itself my daily defence..


I am as unsung as I am safe and sound.

And one day,I know for sure,  I will run aground.

I am but an exalted and expectant euphorian,

For now you will know me only as the Taurean.


I am a tried and tested vessel of meagre, mortal means

Education eeked out only by the force of nature’s submarines.

Oh wise and whispering wind take me where I need to go

And where, wind, only you can  blow.


The perils of piracy hark the dangers of the mission.

And are transparent in my parting vision.

So as I speak with truth and journey in quest

Peace on earth is that for which I am so boldly blessed.



There are stars in your eyes

That twinkle and shine.

That reach for the skies

And light up a world just begging to be mine.


Venture to look into those starry eyes, and I see

As well as feel a wondrous woman much.

A lumineum of light so fantastic and free

Transcendant and tantalizing, tempting to touch.


One stellar among a million stars

That dares to shine this bright

That nurtures the nouveau of my memoirs

On this and any numinous night.


Oh she (and who is she?) that has touched a nerve

And pulled a heartstring?

Who is she that serves the Hors d’oevres

To another living being?


This is that special moment, when

Vision is captured by the imagination.

When a door to another world doth open

And poetry doth salivate sensation.


Yes, I have seen your starry eyes before

In another time and place.

But now, within,  I see the glory of you and so much more,

A gentleness, a grandeur no greater grace.


There will never be another moment such as this

That your world will capture so.

That takes your breath away in the portal premise

That will ever be your shining starry shadow.


You are indeed a lumineum of light so truly blessed,

This darkened soul of thou you do so illuminate.

Your presence today is like a time-honored guest,

This mortal man can only behold and contemplate..


I can see what others cannot

And I can know beyond the portrayal..

I can understand what has long been forgot

In every intricate, intimate detail..


Thank you dear lady for your company today

And for the providence of your luminous light.

Now grab the reigns of your horse and make your way

Through the darkness of the night.


So many things in our life are contrived

And are never meant to be.

Fate  plays the cards of compromise

And we dare to call it destiny.


Catch a poet in such a mood as this

And let his vibrant voice be heard.

The reality of any moment is truly his

For the wise and whispered word.


It is  like nothing else in the helpless harshness

A wonder to take away your breath

That feeling of standing on the edge of darkness

As a  depository for all your loneliness…


As mortal men we take a route

And we follow a perilous path.

Happiness and harmony are our prized pursuit

Fire and  fantasy our wretched wrath.


I have travelled this far, this distance

To draw from the echelons of experience.

So bold am I to write this poem, with every sinew of my existence

And express these simple, solemn sentiments.


It is not an illusion in the sky I see

But a radiant red rainbow in the late afternoon

A marvelling memory in the shadow of the old oak tree,

A treasure of time for which any one of us would swoon


Clouds can block out the scorching sun

And raindrops can flood the earth

But when all things are said and done,

Nothing can lessen its worth.


Magic is the momentary masquerade of mystique

For something symbolic in its conception.

Utterly, unequivocably unique,

Perfectly poetic,in its radiant reflection..


The red rainbow means so much more

Than is visible to the naked eye.

Delivers a meaningful message to devil’s door,

And makes us wonder why.


Paying homage to the radiant red rainbow

Which adorns the silky sky ayonder.

A  spectacular sumptous, silent show,

A phenomena and a wonder.


There is a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow

If you care to look ever so closely

Beyond its gesturing, graceful, glorious glow

It’s yours to capture. Capture it and approach me.


As he looks down upon a wondering world,

Crowds gather for the festive feast.

Epic entertainment is about to be unfurled,

And we know what should matter most, matters least.


From humblest beginnings, of suffering and sacrifice,

Comes a football story hence.

Such is the immensity that it defies,

A ‘keeper could keep such presence..


Oh how a modern empire once crumbled, in time borrowed

And left a debt never to be repaid.

Those who loved, then hated, then sorrowed,

Are left to beg and bleed and forbade.


Make him not the scapegoat

For what has gone before.

The greatest goalkeeper of the twentieth century, unquote,

The only goalkeeper to win the coveted Ballon D’Or.


It is said a goalkeeper is like a national border,

The defender of everything dear.

The last line of defence, the librium and the lauder

For the sanctum, the serendipity and the seer.



There can be no greater tribute

Than that which is paid to He

Who was, admirable and absolute

As a goalkeeper was ever meant to be.


How many penalities has he saved?

How many takers has he outwitted?

Far more than you or I could ever have craved,

Russia’s Black Panther was well acquitted.


History cannot be rewritten

But it can certainly be recalled.

The memory of  a man deserves not to be smitten

But to be endured, embraced and enthralled.


Hey, great goalkeeper, readied for battle trodden,

You’re a watchman by the gate.

Lest it can never be forgotten,

The front line of your battle always lies in wait .


I have no idea who E.S. Whipple is but I stumbled upon his quote in a school library. It was he who said that ‘a book is a lighthouse erected in the great sea of time’.

It is that quote which has inspired this poem.

Put a book into the palm of my hand

And I will be its reader.

Without any limitation to what I can readily understand

Or the fodder of the feeder.


Once just a thought, then written down, later published

To a waiting world not yet suspecting.

But in a thousand years could it ever be wished

That the prize of knowledge is worth collecting?


Books are, after all, the cradle of our knowledge,

If not a lighthouse erected in the great sea of time.

They are the benevolence of our cultured college,

Leading us to where we’re surely goin’


Without you, Book, as some part of my life,

I would be despondent and distinctly destitute.

Can there ever be a failing of mankind to permit such suffering and such outright strife

When the force and power of literature is absolute.


Gosh, I still remember that delirious day

When first as a young child, I could read.

How the blessing and good fortune of Gods grace came my way

And showed me difference between greed and need..


Books have an uncanny way of saying things

To you no human being ever can.

Deliverance is simply sourced from eternal springs

To every able-bodied man.


I see the lighthouse over yonder

As I stroll along the beach.

This is a moment to wonder

And feel a sense of destiny within my reach.


What if all the words ever written

Are no more than an inglorious monsoon?

Let rip the sudden storm,  unrestrained and unforbidden.

On this October afternoon.


The words have found me, as they will find you too,

So be gladdened and  heartily contented.

A poet must do what a poet must surely do,

Write passionate poetry unlamented.


And so I come to express my greatest gratitude

To that lighthouse erected in the great sea of time.

God has willed from me this mystical and marvellous mood

As I have put pen to paper and words to rhyme.


As I stroll further, I’m enveloped by a mist

But the shadow outline of the lighthouse remains.

I have written this poem now.  I have reminisced

And Deliverance reigns.


I need a friend who listens

And pays me due attention.

I need a friend who reasons

The rationale of my comprehension.

I need a friend.


I need a friend who reaches out

In every possible dimension.

I need a friend who is all about

The measure of my extension.

I need such a friend.


I need a friend who’s ears and eyes

To everything that I do.

I need a friend who can spring that element of surprise

And yet be so totally true.

I need that kind of friend.


I need a friend who laughs and cries

And on whom I can definitely depend.

I need a friend who is wonderful and worldly-wise,

I need that faithful friend.


I need a friend who sees what I see

And hears what I hear.

I need a friend who is everything to me,

Who’s honest, humble and sincere.

I need that friend.


I need a friend who’s the very fabric of my existence

And the essence of who I am within.

I need a friend who has zero resistance

To the gravity of my sin.

I need that friend.


I need a friend who touches a nerve

And feels as I do indeed.

I need a friend who’s possessed of veritable verve

To be my one true friend in need.

Oh how I need that friend.


I need a friend who represents an ideal

Of life itself on earth.

I need a friend who is not just real

But the calculation of my life’s worth.

I need a friend.


I need a friend who drives and motivates

As a spiritual pioneer.

I need a friend who thrives and necessitates

I need you now dear.

Friend, I need you dear.





Listen to the beat of the distant drum

As the morning message seeps through.

Phillippe Coutinho, EF KP, Lady Diana, my dear Mum,

This passionate piece of poetry is for you.


Every one of you will be mournfully missed

More than you will ever know.

So much is given; so much more is promised

But all that’s left is the evening echo.


Some things are perhaps best left unsaid

Because saying them so sorely pains.

Look up to the heavens instead

And pray let go of the reigns.


A heart can be broken into a thousand pieces

But the soul does not concede.

The wheel of fortune chances but never decreases

The measure of human need.


Go on, call me a sentimental old fool

Who am I to question it?  It might be true.

No more a poet than a simple scholar of the old school.

Phillippe Coutinho, EF KP, Lady Diana, my dear Mum, how can I forget you?



The pernicious poignancy with which

This deliverance is expressed

Calls upon the mortal maid who first submits

And then applies the logic of the test.



And so it is that 31st August is Forever and a Day,

The grasslands of my eternal grief.

I call on Fate to lend a hand and help me find a way.

It’s quite simply a matter of belief.