This is the archive for Dave's Poetry - at the moment individual Poems are shown below. 

However, as the number of poems grows they will be organised into collections.



Wolf Images

He walks in from the desert steppes and pull his coat round tight.

The sun is disappearing and soon there’ll be no light. He’s just hoping for a crevice to hide in for the night.

Moonlight floods an avenue, lights up a barren wall. He feels exposed, and pauses, as if waiting for a call.

His senses strain but really he can’t hear anything at all.

As he leans against the canyon side he become conscious of a beat, it pulses up into his brain and down into his feet.

Although he’s in the shadow the stone has kept its heat.

No sound to speak of, but just a throb, a flow. An invitation or a warning? His choice to stay or go.

The people in these canyons play blind man’s hide and seek. Fantasists and predators, the down and out and weak.

A fractious bunch of characters who are decadently beat.

 It’s where they do their business, but only after dark. Fugitives and chancers who want to make a mark.

It’s where they think they can’t be found, until of course they are.

He puts his hand on the canyon wall, feels the energy inside.

It draws him down a cul de sac, with no place to run or hide.

From the blind end of the alley, wafts brimstone, dope and beer.

A green light seeps into the night through a door that wasn’t there.

His heart is pounding rhythmically, in concert with the beat.

His choice to take another step or make a quick retreat.

Pushing at the door he tries to be discrete, when a voice says,

“ let me take your baggage lover then I’ll find you a seat”.    


From Marrakesh to Manchester, Berlin to Bleeker Street,

like a string of cool oases lie the ley lines of the beat.

Unmarked, unmapped, unplaceable, invisible through day,

they lure weary willing seekers to sensual night time play.

So, if you lope in from the desert steppes, to a town as yet unknown,

take a stroll at midnight, when the steppenwolves start to roam.

And if by chance you come across a green door oozing light,

and a sultry voice breathes in your ear, and invites you to stay the night,

and if you think you might not go, but then again you might,

remember you were chosen, and you’ve only got one life.


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