I Will Rock You.

April 12, 2018 at 5:38 pm (Poems) (, , )

You read me a story about a strange clockwork bird, and I flew away to dance with aurora borealis.

We are sheltering in our dreams, spending time with animals and gentle folk who move gracefully.

The dream is punctuated by broken glass and the threat of knives, but I really can’t go there right now.

She is frightened by his humour and clearly more at home when the date is reviewed on national tv.

Even now, you are searching for meaning, and I can remember how dark it was outside that train.

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Pub

April 12, 2018 at 1:22 pm (Poems) (, , , , )

Why cook? Why would I light a fire
when I could spend a happy hour
with people that I almost know
in comfort of a fireside glow?

I’d eat a pie and share a beer
but small mind talk is drinking here,
what poison cup makes folk forget
the basic value of respect?

Community – a chance to chew
on thorny issues old and new,
a chance to learn and to debate,
But not to bully, maim and hate.

Old fireside fears are brewed so deep
and subjugate us while we sleep,
They drink our peace and keep us mean,
Let’s open minds at opening time?

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Deflection

April 7, 2018 at 6:43 pm (Poems) (, , )

Beware the thwish of arrows:
A hard bow drawn outwards
seeks to deflect attention from internal strife.

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Boots

April 2, 2018 at 10:56 am (Poems) (, , , )

Heber sits down on the dusty driveway.

He unties the double knot, loosens his right boot and takes it off.

His woollen sock has a hole at the toe

And another, larger one, at the heel.

Heber tugs at the string on the other boot.

It is stuck, fast. With mighty will, he breaks the string, and removes the second boot.

Heber takes the broken string in his old fingers

And mends it with a knot his father taught him.

Then, he takes the other boot and ties it to its shabby brother

He pulls himself up to stand upon the dusty driveway, in his woollen socks, boots in hand

And looks up.

Heber looks up at the great tree branches

Still leafless, after a keen winter.

He looks up at the pale grey sky edged by impending weather

Heber learned to throw, as a lad, long long ago, at school

As he raises his arm, a memory of winning crosses his lips and he smiles.

So Heber has his arm raised, then swings it far back, and up again,

The weight of his two old boots lending momentum

Up, the boots fly, high into the tree.

Heber looks till his neck begins to ache.

He looks up at his boots, swinging from the great tree,

And he looks at all the other boots, strings tied and paired, swinging in the tree.

Heber has a thought, chuckles, and walks

Noting the sharpness of pebbles in woollen socks, on the dusty driveway.

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Alice

March 23, 2018 at 9:52 am (Poems) (, , , , , )

Alice drank the bottle dry
Her life shifted
She craved entertainment
Following an impossible rabbit.

Her life shifted
The garden was beautiful for a time
But getting out was a problem
And overeating overcompensated.

She craved entertainment
But was swept away in a pool of tears
People plied her with reasoning
Which made no sense to Alice.

Following an impossible rabbit
Alice joined a tea drinking forum
And met many false friends
Narrowly avoiding heartbreak.

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Sunset

March 19, 2018 at 10:05 pm (Poems) (, , , , , )

If you are a sunset
I’ll stand by my easel
Watching in wonder
as you paint the air.

If you are a rainbow
I’ll follow your glory
Skip with your silken thread
Dance in your hair.

If you are the moonlight
I’ll whisper your pathway
Howl to your melody
Bow to your prayer.

If you are my mentor
My sweetheart, my friend
I’ll know that true beauty
is your tender care.

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Snow Cat

March 18, 2018 at 7:37 pm (Poems) (, , , )

A cat glances through the dusk at snowflake-
beasties teasing past her shallow window slumber.
Catching the flakes in a fish eye’d
dream frenzy, she
eats the tamed indoor air and almost
falls from her winter seat.

Gathering composure,
her body arcs and she glides
into the kitchen to investigate,
jumping effortlessly onto forbidden
kitchen surfaces,
looking for amusement more than
meat.

Now bored and restless from a day
on window watch,
perhaps, she thinks, I will venture out.
Quietly does it through the flap,
risking the cold, ears flattening;
she picks her way down the hidden path
then onto the gate, snow melting
under her warm belly.

Very soon she returns to the house,
walking in her own deep pawprints,
exonerated from hunting duties,
yearning for a cosy blanket;
zest for comfort supplanting other instincts.

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Finding Calm

March 16, 2018 at 8:53 am (Poems) (, , , , )

Calm lives behind the wires
Breathing slow and even
Aware, still and easy.

Calm lives behind the wires
Breathing slow and even
Calm lives behind the wires.

Aware, still and easy
Always in and waiting
Breathing slow and even

Unplug animosity, fear, anxiety
and you may find Calm:
Aware, still and easy.

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Running Out

March 15, 2018 at 7:50 am (Poems) (, , , )

Gas is running out. Coal is

running out. Patience is exhausted.

Sage is just an antiquated word,

and thyme moves on inexoriably.

When beauty becomes the name of a blurred remembering

Beyond the helping hand of hearing aids and spectacles

I will run out into the street like a lost toddler

Screaming to be reconnected.

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Mattress ditty (sung to a tune that fits snuggly)

March 14, 2018 at 8:44 pm (Poems) (, , , , )

We have a new matteress in our house

It’s six feet long, and widee

No hope of us ever amoving it cuz

It’s made of lead insidee

Delivery men in a terrible rush

Have dumped it in the doorway

We cunna get past and it dussena push

We’ll have to sleep in the hallway!

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