Friday 28 August 2015

Memorial

I do not want to talk of him,
His shining eyes, his wicked smile.
I do not want to think of him,
The way we laughed and loved a while.

I do not want to meet with you,
Pretending it is all the same.
I do not want to hear of him,
I’m trying to forget his name.

I do not want to cry with you,
I have not cried with him all year.
I do not want to say goodbye,

To someone I once held so dear.

Parsnips

They are long and cream.
Taste of something else though.

Kinda parsnipy.

The Pigeon

The pigeon arrives
Flaps its wings
Pecks the ground
Steps forward
Steps back
Steps forward
Steps back
Steps back
Flaps

Leaves

Writing Out Shakespeare

I put a monkey in a room,
And it wrote out Shakespeare,
With a tiny typewriter,
And a pot of black tea.

There’s a monkey in the room,
Writing out Shakespeare,
Though it’s a little smarter
Than we want it to be.

Keep the monkey in the room,
So he can write Shakespeare,
And when we come back later,
He may ask us to leave.

The monkey’s left the room,
After he has written Shakespeare,
And now he’s doing monkey things,

Swinging from a tree.

His Socks

I pair His socks again
again
Stripe with Stripe, Brown with Brown
He has more socks than
any Decent Man should have
I pair His socks again
again
fold His pants, iron shirts
fold and pair and iron shirts
and then
tangled in twisted trouser legs
His sock
with no pair to pair

again

Lover

You left behind your lingering stare,
a crooked smile,
seductive and sweet.
The memory of hand held
tight. Tousled hair from
tousled night.

And then. More than memory.
The folded corner of my
favourite book.
The stain from when red wine was spilt.
And a chip on a vase

that wasn’t there before.

Meeting

Two different journeys intertwined
With passing sways and sorrys and goodbyes
They paused for a simple moment
Locked in lulls and gentle movement
A single laugh, a common moan
Rolled eyes, open smiles, and then on
They went their separate ways
She went left
He went left

And there they stayed.