When hurt becomes song
Such deep beauty do we sing
That Angels listen 🎶
Not So
Not So
There is no bond
That is perfectly formed;
I believe in the hook and eye,
The button and opposing hole:
Complete.
Brexit
A clockwork squirrel with little feet,
A car with backwards winding
A girl that danced, a waltzing beat,
A bear that walks by grinding.
A bear that walks by grinding
Growls empty words today
However well he’s sounding
He’s throwing us away.
The girl that danced, a waltzing beat
Danced out without a deal
And now she sits with the elite
While we all dance the reel
A car with backwards winding
Has seen it all before
And knows those days of ‘glory’
Meant misery for the poor.
A clockwork squirrel with little feet
Keeps falling off its toes
And going forward to repeat
Its past, it Brexits nose.
Spaghetti
Sharing spaghetti conversation rich tomato juice and olive oil dribbling from our chins red wine releasing us from tight jackets into a real sense of
now.
This was an improvised episode short haul flight through dance, poetry and daring. Tomorrow we will save the universe but first we need to
sleep.
Comfort
Bring me steaming homemade soup
and torn off crusty bread
Give me a hot water bottle
and a pillow for my head
Offer me hot chocolate
Dress me in warm clothes
Tell me it will be alright
Then leave me be, to doze.
A popular disease
Please let me out of here
Enter at your own peril
Not for the faint hearted
To be avoided at all costs
Until I die
Put your left arm in
Funny how?
Everybody needs somebody
Exactly
Let me tell you about my life
In other words…
Never nothing no-one
Get me out of here
So many reasons not to say.
Wings
When doors are locked
and darkness cloaks the autumn sky
When we are tucked
in sleepy beds, the fairies fly.
They think we mor-
tals will not wake to see their way
But leafy por-
tals open to reveal the fay.
And if our eyes
can focus past this earthly night
We’ll catch a glimpse
Of starlit dancing in plain sight.
While some may feel
afraid to dally with romance
Some curious few
Spread silken wings and join the dance.
Rat
Rudely awakened by a small sound
An unwelcome visitor had infiltrated his personal space
The wet nose against his hand was when he screamed.
Ed Co
This is the story of a rich director
Who collected a cupboard of prizes
He was a veteran of film
Who had rejoined the industry
At the zenith of possibility
Despite many liquidations
He found success in China
Where a small segment of genius
Went a long way to forge his return
Largely inarticulate, he hired a spokesperson
to accept his nominations
then cut adrift from the timpani of fame
The last I heard, he had become a monk
on a whiskery greek island
But this may be a ruse
to ensure the privacy needed
for the hatching of ultimate imagination.
Muse
Is it romantic to be a muse?
I found it intolerable:
long-suffering martyrdom
for brief significance;
Broken butterflies
unpin your wings
untethered
eyes raised
fly!
