Blog Archives

Intimate Strangers: Four By Six

INTIMATE STRANGERS

Once we walked hand in hand
How did our paradise
Become a cross between
A maze and a mine field?

Happy Families

HAPPY FAMILIES

The silence spoke volumes
Passive aggression
She didn’t know the term
But then she had no need

She had no real desire
To continue living
And so was quite grateful
For his contribution

He had no real desire
To continue living
And so was quite grateful
For her contribution

Passive aggression
The silence spoke volumes
He didn’t know the term
But then he had no need

Getting To Know You

GETTING TO KNOW YOU

I’ll show you my scars
Only on condition that
You will show me yours

Small Mercies: Four By Six

SMALL MERCIES

We’re stuck here forever
Yes it may be painful
We have eternity
So what’s with the big rush?

Made For One Another

MADE FOR ONE ANOTHER

As the hands turned a notch with a click
As the sand slipped through and settled
They noticed that they could never
Approach very close to Love
…..(and we speak of the real kind here
…..not the sham kind, the self-centred
…..the shameful masquerades)
Without the tear ducts stirring

As the hands turned a notch with a click
As the sand slipped through and settled
Inch by inch they learned
Found the courage
Not to turn away
But envelop the pain
And embrace
Wet cheek to wet cheek

Broken Lines: Shadorma

BROKEN LINES

Here where the
Various varied
Versions of
Me hang out
Swung by to check whether these
Worn tear ducts still work

Not For Nothing

NOT FOR NOTHING

Many years ago now we vowed
That we would never allow loss
(however painful this might be)
To restrict our deeply felt interaction
With any of the music we love

Given that we view music as
A gymnasium for the emotions
It surely follows don’t you know
That if we do not exercise
Our emotions when needed
Or like water, or like blood
They fester and putrefy

Teardrops
Contain both
Water (for cleansing)
And salt (for preservation)

Nature is not called
Mother Nature
For nothing

Redeemed

REDEEMED

First comes forgiveness
After long denying it
Then this too dissolves

Jet Plane Warbirds (Republished)

JET PLANE WARBIRDS

Noisomely loudly
Splitting our quiet skies
Oh when will you return home?

Be gone, fey daughters of mad Zeus
Be done with twirling your bloody fingers
Fondling their hard-won garlands demanded
And then – oh but of course – soon discarded

Gladiators meet, mete out death, make meat
Reborn as gliadioli – erect, sword-shaped
Leaves and spikes of flowers – overblown
In a superfluity of colour, so over fulsome

Be gone, be gone, we beseech thee
Leave us in peace, in peace
In blessed peace

Poo Purée

POO PURÉE

Fundamentalism
And “white supremacy”
They have a pungent scent
Smothering any sense

%d bloggers like this: