Month: March 2015

For the Love of Jack

Remember our Jack, who picked up his beans
and walked away from those who sought
to exploit his fear and vulnerability?

Remember how he walked away
from agencies who smelt
an egg of gold?

Our Jack didn’t give a bean
for banks who showed no interest
for as long as he had –
Jack squat.

No, our Jack put his beans
in a medium sized hole
he dug with his own hands
in a good old river bank,
and his care for those beans
never altered.

Even when they laughed at him
and took his shoes
and told him he was trespassing
upon their mean old patch of land
his love light never faltered.

So our Jack sat down on his jacksy,
and watched his beanstalk fare,
and now our Jack’s beans are plenty
for all kind folk to share.

But for the love of Jack we’re hungry,
and the giants have their way,
But for the love of Jack we’re broken,
Take your beans and walk away.

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Cygnets

We are the lost girls,
the stars of tomorrow
in curlers, pyjamas,
with beans in our heads.

Up in the night time,
we laugh at reflections
and fight with green jelly,
abandoning beds.

We are obnoxious
and anxious and beautiful,
Gazelle like, Giselle like,
a glorious mess.

We head rebellion
to form a close union,
our souls crying out
to be tickled to death.

Essence

We race down river,
past crisp white tennis players:
two gloriously best friends,
eating oranges quartered
with a dangerous knife,
the juice squeezed
directly into our mouths.

Someone bakes potatoes
wrapped in tin foil
on a smoky open fire,
and we smell of charcoal,
fresh air and old perfume,
and wear broken dress jewellery
borrowed from our mothers.

Reflections

I search inside and find your ruddy face
fast ease away but feel you rise and stare
Reflections in the window take your place.

Now news is made of creased and ruined flesh
despoiling freedom, innocence consumed
I search inside and find your ruddy face.

In retro dreams you touch youth through a lens
and I oblige, a child plucked out of time
Reflections in the window take your place.

Those ten familiar fingers preen and groom
and worth is stitched up in a spangled dress
I search inside and find your ruddy face.

Now meet a woman stronger than your guile
so tiptoe not, but should she drop her guard
Reflections in the window take your place.

It’s something in the coat or of the eyes
Not you, but of an age – and one more time
I search inside and find your ruddy face
Reflections in the window take your place.