Tuesday, 25 December 2012

Aftermath 1

i’m in the paper
a poet in the news
for once being feted and not abused
i smile at the buzz that surrounds me
i am amused
i am bemused.
i’ve enjoyed my time in the sun
this was easy
compared to the battles i’ve won
everyone seems happy
well i hope they are
and ever if they weren’t
i’m the happiest by far.
but right now two loads of laundry await
ready to greet their washing machine fate
and there are vessels that need putting away
and a home crying out for some attention.
so i remove my poet garb
lay down my wand, my trusted old pen
unpin the celebrated cape from me
and sit calmly count to ten.
breakfast awaits
ever if it’s only toast
my crown can wait
it’ll be tarnished at the most
the paper’s folded away
in a corner of my memory
and there are things to be done
as far as the eyes can see.
even poets lead mundane lives
they are hosts, they are wives
there are demands made on their time
and there are people waiting
but not in line. 

Thursday, 30 August 2012


you do not text or call
or make any move to drive a distance
to come see me
while i walk though fields that we've planted together
and swim in waters we made love in
and draw patterns on the sands
that heard our conversations.
yes things change
oh how they change
me in my silence and you in your facile guilt
make for an estrangement
that is peculiar
and almost funny
if it weren't so damn sad.

Wednesday, 1 August 2012


you've left and left me with memories
what do i do with these?
take them with you
won't you please
so i may go and live again.
Here is the sun drenched day
where we kissed in the shadow filled way
and here are the flowers we crushed
under us as we plucked
love from the time we had
now that memory makes me sad
So take this with you
that moonlit ride
you and me, your almost bride
the meadow was an eerie shade
eager was the love we made
and take this warmth from my hand
that held yours as we slept
and take this soul that waited so long
and this secret that it has kept
take the wine, take the food
take the chocolate, take the soup
take the fruit, take the bread
take your presence from my head
love take your love away
let me not miss it not a single day
take all this you've left with you
but please don't forget
take me too.

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

On the 'Shradh'

i cannot believe that those departed are crows.
my father'd be a majestic falcon
my mother a little sparrow
my sister would be a chirping magpie
he, a mischievous raven
you'd be a rather serious stork
and i'll be the proud peacock
who thinks all the alternatives matter.


i could show you the wing tips under my eyes
and bruises of every shape and size
i could show you scars on my arms and feet
and puckered flesh from searing heat
i could show you the stripes on my back
and files that fill a sack
full of headlines that decree
what was done to me
the violence of my house that is plain to see
but i'll show you one
a love bite on my breast
and you'll realize
how heartless he truly is.