Nights

September 25, 2018 at 4:45 pm (Poems) (, , )

True strangeity of it:
returning at first light
through a world you vacated
a few hours ago, when it was elderly.

Morning, like the birth of spring,
expects youth and eagerness;
I am the eye of a kaleidoscope:
defiled by tiredness,
exhilarated by freedom,
grateful for the short journey home.

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Each New Day

November 15, 2012 at 8:51 am (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, politics, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Put a light to the day

throw it like a fire cracker

peel it like a juicy banana

wear it like a fancy bandanna

open it up like a tin can

and pour it out like a waterfall

test it like the ultimate cure-all

take it for a walk and

giggle uncontrollably with it

welcome it home

and make it contented

plump it up like a pillow

and sleep comfortably upon it.

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September in Shropshire

September 8, 2012 at 10:23 am (Poems) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

In our English country garden
morning arrives for breakfast
clothed in misty vagueness
to find arachnid market traders
already skilfully threading
silver baskets between bushes where
a snail’s early yawning turns the head
of a song thrush hoarse from dawn
dew drying in the wan sun smiling
weakly at Fuchsia drunk on rich ruby pallet
who bow to orange Montbretia and ageing
Buddleia bracing itself for the arrival
of those blooming butterfly and bee
bounders regardless of a definite
chill we sit thin jacketed drinking
coffee and eating bread spread
with cherry plum jam ruminating
on the day ahead and the need for
autumn preparation and repair.

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