Autumn Feast

Pustules bursting acid sweetness
Perfect glossy coal-blackness
Oozing blood-red juicy mess
Taste bud under duress

Crumble, Tart, Icy cream
Sitting in a chair to dream
Freezer locks the flavour in
Prescient motes of joy within

Winter bursts of Autumn warmth
Custard-coated at my hearth
Chase the chilly blasts away
Bring a taste of summer’s day

Blackberry juice and prickle-fest
Tame the wildness, is the quest
Fruits, the spin-off: just the best
Harvest home, feather the nest.

Starry Night

Punctured holes in the lid of the world
Dancing faery lights above
Smudges of white on black bold
Whispered wings, live as a dove.

Piercing sound, not hoot but screech
Rend the air around
Even under covers, reach
The eerie tones abound

Beneath the hedgerow, ditches near
Weasel, stoat and ferret
Search for morsels, using fear
To paralyse: their merit

Sleight of claw and fleet of foot
Wings that beat and thresh
Owlish piercing call & hoot
Finding prey that’s fresh

Hunters of the night fly by
A bright but waning moon
Viewers take a precious eye
The owl has left too soon.

Summer on the edge

Holidays are funny things
People choose to spread their wings
Take to the road, and Westward Ho!
Join the queues: the Big Go Slow

Pack a car with precious stuff
iPad, cossie, tea-towels: enough!
To make your rest a home-from-home
No matter where you choose to roam!
Safe and sound, embedded there
A place to rest: we’ll be somewhere

Close to sea or sand or beach
Close enough.. and just in reach
Make the car your camel train
Carry children, prepare for rain

Well, it is the English Summer
The sky is grey but the rain is warmer.
The sight and sounds of coastal Devon
Smell of scone and jam, oh heaven
Clotted cream, in Hockings ice
Make the beach trip twice as nice

Wend you way through country lanes
Smell the hay and sweet perfumes
Up a crazy, wobbly track
Find your cottage: quick, unpack!

Shake the sand out on the grass
Grab your cossie, make it fast
Pool is open, Dad: come on..!
Don’t go putting the footie on…!
Dip a toe into the pool
Initially it feels quite cool

After nearly just an hour
Time to take that bedtime shower
Tired kids are slowing down
Tears and yawns and grumpy frowns
PJs on and into bed
Go to sleep, you: Sleepy Head

Mums and Dads relax and crash
Planning for tomorrow’s splash
Off to Bude to the Sea Pool
Salty, limpid, very cool.

Summer holiday fun and frolics
No bad bugs or foreign colics
School is all too soon in sight
Pack up car and drive by night
Take the weary journey home
That’s the end of this Summer poem.

Pram & Cage

Littered around the wheels
Today’s efforts:
My ‘Toys’
Lie scattered in
Concentric circles
Measured by temperous outbursts

Futures planned,
Are heaped in disparate
Mounds at my feet.

I will walk in your shoes
But you will have to wash my feet
Whenever I choose to remove
Your footwear

Soon, no fear! I will rock the pram
And you will hear the rumble
and feel the tumult

The Gilded Cage
Releasing the bird within.


Dream thoughts

Like thick, dark chocolate
Seep from my brain
To linger,
bitter on the tongue
The taste does remain.

Salty notes strike through
My sense of smell,
With savours, too!

Aromatic mint, rose attar
Orange tones
With rum
Hint of lands, afar.

The essences of these thoughts, appear
Wraith like
In the church of my mind
Like vespers in the morning air

Ancient in their origin
Yet.. newly tempered
By the nightly coma
Sleep brought again

In a glittering box
Each, presented
Like an oriental chocolate
Upon which, varied senses locks

Poetry for the eye, behold!
The tongue
and olfactory nerve
I hear the sound of this chocolate ode.


Tangible materials
Show the skill of their maker
Hammer marks
Tapering to a graceful curl

Taking words
And honing them
Into a simple metaphor
All the art, into a whorl

Letters, simple squiggles
Words that noun and verb
Add to them some adjectives
Plus a few adverbs

Mix them up with commas
Apostrophes and stops
Define the line with paragraph
Similies that drop

From the pen
In showers
Words that paint
The flowers

For the folks that cannot, will not see
Broadcast them in script, or voice.
Your very best display.
Word-smith: it’s YOUR choice


The day starts
Busyness will follow

Slip, sheet, cover
Take one pillow

Two, three, more
Strip, scrumple
Shake a sheet, billow

Looking mellow

Again, again
Sun shines
Daily yellow

Wash and dry
Ready for tomorrow.


Rigidly hugging myself
I seek release
Yoga-tastically sprawling on the floor
I strive for comfort

I fail
by my own immobility

Like a beetle
on its’ back

I weave
To a chair

Hooking my legs

Move: I cannot
Blanket thrown
Yells; too!

My back screams
My brain scrambles
My family roll:

@shilyot au2014


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