Summer shower

When first I see a thing of beauty
my mind it captures and condenses
reaching deep inside for colours
painting banquets for the senses

finding little more than scraps
not quite the makings of a feast
I set about to place my words
to breathe some life into the beast

between the petals of the flowers
amidst the landscape on the ground
upon the chorus of the dawn
I place them right within the sound

and all those captivated scents
I give once more unto the breeze
for I am bound by my intent
to re-imagine them with ease

So yesterday a random rainbow
got caught beneath a summer shower
then bled it´s radiance of colour
into the heart of every flower

for my white roses were resplendent
bespokely dressed, all iridescent
no two petals were the same
each one uniquely effervescent

Powder blue and crimson red
cerise pink and apple green
Burnt sienna, peach and purple
a kaleidoscopic dream

And no sooner had it faded
than I began to realise
that once again my heart´s desire
had dreamt it all before my eyes.

Peter Sidney

16th July 2011

Mr Peter S
No. 5 Orchard View

Dear young Master Peter

My namesake – This card in your hands is for you
and not to be shared with your brothers
(don´t you love that it says “Master Peter” on top
that it’s yours – for the eyes of no others)

These words will not stay in your head (just your heart)
and by evening you’ll feel none the wiser
so run to your place near the top of the stairs
read in peace from the nook of the riser

First let me say you´re a wonderful child
heaven knows this just needs to be said
now go and rejoice in the things that you love
don´t get lost in those thoughts in your head

Climb up to the heart of the old magic tree
to the cuckoo´s nest high in the branches
stand aloft ‘neath the sky and scream out for joy
and be grateful for all of these chances

If you stop counting cars and the cracks in the pavement
your world will still turn come the morning
just enjoy your adventures in “hollyville lawn”
for time passes without any warning

Gaze out of your window at what you don´t see
like the green countryside that surrounds you
sadly much of it now just suburban decay
its destruction will one day astound you

Don´t you ever despair when you see your reflection
for you´ll be quite the handsome young man
you´ll break hearts and make friends in abundance
and you´ll never be less than you can

As you read this the letters are fading
still there´s time yet for me to impart
that I am the man that lays hidden within
and these are the words I found deep in your heart

Breaking Dawns

on those solitary sleepless nights
when day has long been spent
and the wailing wind arises
just to sing a sad lament

when agnostic midnight thinkers
deeply yearning to believe
search the belly of their hearts
and find sweet nothings to retrieve

so delicate and disconnected
little blossoms on the breeze
fit to break apart in pieces
bound by threads of mild unease

overseen by ancient light
ghosts extinguished long ago
universal bright imposters
spirits shining all aglow

and just pondering such things
helps to ease an anxious mind
as it wakes unto a new world
thinking on what fate might find

watching as the rising star
chases cobalt from the sky
cutting shadows into shards
bidding night a swift goodbye

sending smithereens of sunlight
down upon this freckled face
breaking dawns across the earth

just a twinkle out in space…


(…a facet of his character
a piece of his perfection
had fallen by the roadside
lost upon a sad reflection…)


I had strayed across his path
into the slipstream of his wake
and as he passed me by
he left a token for my sake

I thought at first it was the rain
but not a cloud hung in the sky
then it dawned on me this droplet
might have fallen from his eye

so I looked behind to see
what must have been a trail of tears
when like a tender judas kiss
the breeze betrayed him to my ears

I heard this weeping broken man
I felt his sad soliloquy
it spoke a tale unto my soul
awoke the deepest part of me

for my heart just like a stallion
kicking wildly in my chest
lay uncaptured and unbroken
aching for another quest

and I wanted to catch up with him
to walk within his stride
to embrace him and release him
be his confidant, his guide

instead I whispered a farewell
dreamed his troubles set alight
prayed his heavy heart be lifted
as he faded from my sight


(…and as he walked along
his sadness seemed to wash away
unaware he´d met a soulmate
on the road that very day…)

Time for it all

Time to write again
time to hang words in the sky again
or to pick them right out of thin air

time for the same words with different meanings
and to say the same things in disguise
time to climb high on the mountain of word
time to get high on that write that you heard
time to go seeking the herd
time for the scene
and time just to yearn to be seen

time to be read and quickly digested
to burn all of the hearts I infested
time to find love just to hide it away
time to play king even just for a day

Time to play dead.
time to put flesh on the bones in my head
time to create men I wish would exist
to enhance all the ones I despise (with a fist)
time to learn and time to explore
to feast and indulge just a little bit more

time for the least
time for the most
time for more landscapes
               and streetscapes
               and dreamscapes
               and grilled grated cheese on toast

time for the greatest escapes and diversions
the most unforgivable grammatical perverions
time to break up the rhythm and flow!
(and time just for knowing the time to let go)

time for versions of similar things
time in the shower………to sing
time to be naked like nature intended
time to be buckled, strapped, booted and dressed
(like a victim the fashion police just apprehended)

time to shine light on a shortcoming
time to fall short of the mark
time just to shine like a diamond
time to take time to wedge in a rhyme
(and time to lay still in the dark)

time to steal what I covet and then call it my own
time to enjoy life living alone
time to paint lips with my ink and then kiss them
time to send lovers away and then miss them
time for new explorations
in unexplored pockets of prior locations

time for new chat with old friends
chewing the fat and making amends
time for healing and mending
time for beginnings
and time for the ending.


Set alight the unspent midnight oil
let the shadows gather ’round and dance
as palms give way to fists

I’ll await the coming of my muse…

between my temples he revolves
his tongue whispers a razor blade tonight
he tells of fragrant thoughts I’ve yet to dream
of love’s graffiti
awaiting declaration from a can

I think in veins of words unbled
imagine painted wings
unfurled beneath the sun
such spectacles unborn
a mind unquietened once more

while deep beneath the waves
where follies hide
a clock tower tolls in the squall
heralding the tempest
enchanting the solitary sailors
their stained glass eyes
belying melancholy chambers
where hearts beat still
like undiscovered treasure
in old forgotten chests
echoing their symphonies
of unimagined notions
in search of serendipity
on love’s uncharted oceans.

Don´t panic

When to you the world seems harsh
and you are numbed
by its ice cold reception
when time spoon feeds each second
into the mouth of every day
yet life can´t find a moment
to fit you in for an appointment

and still you persevere
a jaded spirit all forlorn
with thoughts like blackest treacle
sifting slowly through your mind
as you feast on dark fantasies
lurking in decay
each morbid crumb a meal for you
while all you really want
is to disappear unnoticed
without affecting other souls

(as if…)

how noble such a thought
how benevolent a notion

thinking on…….thinking off
thinking how the world would be
had you never breathed nor existed at all

but your ego – in a frenzy
won´t hear of such estrangements
it has grand designs
on more elaborate arrangements
eulogies and requiems
a mass of mourning beauty
aisles replete with the blackest of grieving fashion…

While elsewhere at a graveyard in your mind…

Bloodshot eyes
of distraught angels
shed endless tears
weeping at your open grave
celebrating death
in divine proportions.

But of course
by all means indulge yourself
be my guest
spin the wheel
crash into that wall
become a momentary phoenix
a burning fireball
rising high into the air
above the drama that unfolds.

And while you do yourself away
inside a bloody crumpled mess
I´ll re-imagine your last moments
with refinement and finesse
I shall also write your epitaph
to tell it like it is –

Killed instantly
snuffed out
without a shadow
of a doubt

I´ll even stand upon the pulpit
pausing for a moment
to compose
to catch my breath
to re-imagine what I see

I´ll stare into the tired old church
at the paltry gathering
only to gaze upon
a magnificent basilica
packed to the gills
and where old widows
who never really knew you
sit in raincoats on their pews
wrapped in head scarves and rosary beads
instead I´ll see before me
women of good standing
dressed in fine fabrics
clearly stunned by the loss
weeping little diamonds
from their red rimmed eyes
into silk handkerchiefs..
borrowed from their strong and silent men

and I shall tell them all…

“He executed his plans
to those around him
who loved him so
and had he left a note
I think it might have read
like this”


Had I been a lesser thing
or unbecame the man I was
had nature reassigned me
to possess a summer breeze
I´d be the patterns on the meadow
or the air within the mist at dusk
a wisp above the land
and not the cause of all this grief.

Alas my friends
it´s all just fodder for the poet
a fantasy
a whim.


This indeed I´d do for you
my melancholy friend
though death could never fathom
nor witness such an end.

to be or not to be a sonnet

From henceforth I’ll begin to take my time,
to tell a tale or weave a wicked scheme;
beholding to be mindful of the rhyme,
held captive; words now martyrs to the theme.

Beware that beauty toils in cuff and chain,
for greater good it must contort for me;
my phrases cropped and beaten with a cane,
to read without a hitch; so it must be.

To be or not to be the life and soul,
away from this may be the righteous path;
where you create your art without control,
all told you shall engage the purist wrath.

Perhaps one needs the presence of this cage,
to exorcise the poet from the page.

By any other name (a rose)

a rose is born
a dawn in bloom
a gift untold
of nature’s womb

a rose so bold
behold her scent
she’ll steal your breath
without repent

a rose sublime
a bud befit
of chiseled verse
most exquisite

a regal rose
a queen – I jest
a feast for eyes
at her behest

a blazing rose
her colours run
to salvage shade
from embered sun

embattled rose
with readied thorn
each wounded grasp
a lesson borne

most tender rose
do not despair
for what awaits
we can’t prepare

sweet wilting rose
let petals fall
reveal your heart

to one and all.