Looking through a glass,
Through another,
Times six,
I see a transparent tulip,
Unfurling.
Do you?

I don’t mind saying, there’s no mistake!
I REALLY do love birthday cake.
I’m always happy as a clam,*
With a Victoria sandwich spread liberally with jam!
Or a really lovely chocolate sponge,
So I can cover my face with cream and grunge!
So don’t hold back, just load my plate,
I’ve an empty stomach, my need is great!

* an American expression mes in ecstatically happy.

Riding the boxcar,
Clickety clack,
I’m not travelling far
Just to Tulsa and back.

Riding the boxcar,
Through the still of the night,,,
Just the hum of the engie
The wash of the lights.

Riding the boxcar,
As the sun starts to glow,
We’ve come down from the hills,
Onto a barren plateau.

Riding the boxcar,
Clickety clack,
This journey’s a treat,
Travelling to Tulsa and back.

Smell and taste,
The two most evocative senses,
The tantalising scent of baking bread,
And I am instantly transported to my grandmother’s kitchen,
Her quick, agile hands kneading the dough,
Her soft, dulcet voice explaining the alchemy of baking to young, eager ears.
The salt, seaweed wind coming off the ocean,
And I salivate, just thinking of the first oyster my father shucked for me,
And the sweet, sharp taste explosion as it slipped down my throat.
I do not need to see the spices I eat to travel around the world in a heartbeat,
One tiny frond of coriander in my mouth,
And Thailand bursts full-throttle into my world.
Bite into an olive and I am transported,
To Provence on a sultry summer’s day,
The perfume of wild herbs in the air.
Smell and taste,
The two most evocative senses,
Because they are inextricably linked to memories,
Both good and less good,
But all brought to sharp focus in that instant of savouring, smelling,
A “soundbite” of my life.

I found this very perfect spot in which I thought I’d sit.
The truth is that it’s just my size, and there’s nowhere quite like it.
If I sit here quietly and pretend that I’m the sphinx,
You might let me keep my cat nap pot forevermore methinks

A camel train
On a stretch of sand,
Under a herringbone sky.

A sheet of water, incongruous,
Reflects back the long, patient line,
Echoes of a distant past.

An empty landscape, yes,
An expanse of water, unusual,
Except that this picture is Australian…

I love my beautiful cello.
He’s a very melodious fellow!
His sound is round and rich and mellow.

My cellos’s a good foot taller than me,
Yet we have a certain chemistry.
A wonderful, magical synergy.

Sometimes I play with restraint and control,
Sometimes I play a particular role,
But always, I speak to your soul

A table top,
Polished glass,
An inverted reflection
Of the building
Above and beyond it.
Clear, unfractured.
Somehow more perfect
Than the building itself.

I’m a fisherman in Yuangshuo,
I set forth and assess the river’s flow,
Then throw my nets to make my catch,
Each angler has his own small patch…
And so, fate’s willing, by the end of the day,
My fish will pay my family’s way…

They built this bridge an age ago,
To get from place to place.
It’s like walking on a rainbow,
Like stepping in to space.
The bridge is one side of a bay,
It spans from shore to shore,
I rush across, don’t like to stay,
‘Cause heights I do abhor!
The view beyond is mile on mile
Of endless open sea,
Yet if you stop atop a while,
You can relish the scenery.