The Ice Cream Van

THE ICE CREAM VAN

Harken! Hear’st thou not
The jolly old ice cream van?
An old childhood memory

Reentering the present …

Ice cream in the Winter?
Dream on, my dearest, for
Now who leaves the house?

Reentering the present …

I scream at this Winter
For none enter the house
No one any more save I

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 moonlight 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

Derision

DERISION

Etched as in acid
Undeserved childhood tattoos
Still silently burn

Lackaday (1b)

LACKADAY

Who’d have thought
After all this time
Such a short
Encounter
Might still be gleaming so bright
After fifty years

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadorma November

The Wound We Wind

THE WOUND WE WIND

Round and round we wind
The wound we wound around us
Tight in our own grasp
History is history
The present we give ourselves

Birds On The Wire

BIRDS ON THE WIRE

Oh, Jenny
Recalling yet

How we’d sing it together back then
Swapping the words back and forth

… drunk …
… choir …
… tried …
… way …
… free

Leonard has passed
Me, I stagger on

Wondering
Where you are now

And even
If …

Oh, Jenny
Oh, Miss Jones

Old Lovers: Four By Six

OLD LOVERS

That curious rhythm
Stitched us to its branchings
Caught up in its weaving
Gladly surrendering

Memory Lane

MEMORY LANE

I quite like
revisiting
ancient haunts;

lightly caressing
the memories evoked.

I learnt long ago
the foolishness
of regret,

of expectation
or disappointment.