To Platon Alexiades
and Julia Cumberlege
holidaying with us last year

I feel like going to Poros
and gathering Grecian shells
with all the sweet Anitas
and the luscious Anabels.

Why do women hide things?
Why don’t they open up,
and tell you if they like you
and would gladly fill your cup?

I’m doomed to disappointment,
must hark to Nature’s laws.
I’ll never get the girls I love
between my sticky paws.

at dawn

The Figs are screaming for water,
the pigeons are nibbling the hedge.
The strawberries can’t be eaten,
the Cumber is on the Ledge.

My tea gets colder and colder,
My arms stretch up to the sky.
I can’t rip the white clouds open,
but I’ll have a jolly good try.

You are my consolation
and comfort this Whitsuntide,
O brown-tinged rhododendrons
Born on the Other Side.

for K.T.

2 am

Of all the worlds I’ve lived in
this is probably the best.
I’ve got a wife and daughter
and a cosy little nest.

They talk about a Pure Land
fifty billion miles away,
but mine is deep within my heart
and Christ it’s there to stay.

I stretch before my altar
drawing power from the floor.
God willing, naked traffic
with the person I adore.

Whit Sunday ’18.


The Goddess of Love gets angry
in a beautiful sweet-tempered way.
She’s not altogether happy
with some of the things I say.

One is not always served best
by getting the things one desires.
Madame Blavatsky noticed
that water extinguishes fires.

However we look at the problem,
from up or down, left or from right,
a Lover is always a Winner
as long as the Loved-one’s in sight.

5 Maya 18.