Blog Archives
Once Bitten: Shadorma
ONCE BITTEN
Some woman
Turns and smiles at him
Ignores her
Turns his back
Waits to walk on till she’s gone
“Nowt but trouble there.”
New Year In Autumn: Cinqku
NEW YEAR IN AUTUMN
Summer
Holiday
Just memories
Climb on to school’s treadmill
Heigh ho
Faded Photos: Cinqku
FADED PHOTOS
Lost love
Long past days
Present echoes
Whisper among the trees
Old news
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Secondhand Living (Republished)
SECONDHAND LIVING
Your very own death watch beetles*
Mark seconds, minutes, hours
Then days, weeks, months and years
Their insistent ticking unheard by your ears
Fine tuned instead to mental scurrying
Myriad mind maps, multiplex memories
Journeys undertaken or imagined
Varicoloured projections outdoing
Any Hollywood lollapalooza†
With anadipsic* dreams gushing
While hearts intertwine to the tune
Of Bonaparte’s Retreat or are blown apart
To morph into gory gut wrenching disasters
And you follow your feet down the street
Oblivious to the momentous truth
That moment by moment
You are acting against green screen
~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~
* Death watch beetle – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deathwatch_beetle.
† Lollapalooza – an extraordinary or unusual thing, person, or event; an exceptional example or instance. (Random House Kernerman Webster’s College Dictionary, © 2010 K Dictionaries Ltd. Copyright 2005, 1997, 1991 by Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.)
* Anadipsic – An enchantment that requires a tremendous amount of personal arcane energy. (https://spellmonger.fandom.com/wiki/Anadipsic
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Jazz Me Do
JAZZ ME DO
Memory splinters … Splinters linger on
Orphaned … Amputated … Alien
Earlier hellbent … Later bent
Like a banana
Like a tasty adventure
Up … Behind … To infinity and beyond
Like the neighbour who
Spotting the Buddha in the back garden asks
“What’s wit’ monk?”
Like a glance above wondering
In this boundless blossoming heaven
“What’s wit’ bird?”
What’s wit’ Bird?
Variations on a theme
Came a long long way to end up here
To land up here wondering
“What’s wit’ Miles
What’s wit’ all these miles an’ miles?”
Tryst (Republished)
TRYST
A moonlit Autumn evening
Waiting alone beside the river
No birdsong disturbs the air
A faint whisper of cloud
Gathers a handful of stones
Shies them skipping
Reflecting
Musing
Just how much water
Has passed under her bridge
Since they last met?
A rustle in the bushes
But no one emerges
Checks the time
Gives a deep sigh
Turns and walks away
Disappointment
Or else relief?
Och Aye
OCH AYE
I thank you all, my dear Scots
For those years passed away back in Stirling
May your pipes remain forever a-skirling
Down here mid my scented forget-me-nots
