SAMHAIN

Hecate told me in my sleep
to draw a circle round the past
with candles fragrancing cold air.
So widdershins, I chanted peace
and comfort to the '60s child
(the one I swear who looked like me).
In pink clouds learned to laugh at tears.
Black velvet cat,familiar now,
unblinking all the while.
So mote it be.

LOST FOR WORDS

The poem you are reading now
was stolen by a man of fewer words than this,
who made it all sound very grand
in many ways that I could not.
And so the audience ate the lines,
my own words dying in the wings
to be the poem you are reading now.

SINGLE MOTHER

When he drop kicked the hen through the open door
she squarked and soared in unplanned flight.
On yellow legs she ran to the barn
and crooned contentedly with her lot
to shuffle above the next generation.

HOUSEBOUND

Here next door to the village gossip
it's the kiss of death.
Admirably acute detection skills
employed in blasting speed of light inflations
on garden fence hotlines,scorching songbirds' feet.
...."Him at number three bought some bananas this morning",it's reported.
My life is not enhanced beyond recognition upon receipt.
yet I dare not venture out in my new shoes
for fear that I'll be making headline news.

LIGHTS,CAMERA, AUTUMN.

Bring on the dusky moodiness
of raging rain and crisp cool air.
Crackling leaves in swirling winds
extinguish heat and summer noise.
Bring naked autumn to the centre stage
to improvise dramatic scripts
then wrap for winter.

BY HIS OWN HAND

The guilt, the fear,the anger, the pride
that eats us up from the inside.
Why,how ,when,where and what?
Perhaps there was a detail that we all forgot.
If only this,if only that...
Why didn't he tell us where he's at?
No sleep,no food for those who wait
at the mercy of the hand of fate.
And when they came and told us that the man was dead,
I realised that you cannot live inside anothers' head.

ANTHROPOMORPHISM

"Too much clutter", they've always said,
"Is a certain sign of a muddled head".
I'd rather hear the pendulum of my deco clock
that steadily trots like hooves, not stop.

They laugh and think that all's not well,
yet Aunty Gertys' sideboard has a tale to tell.
Lit up and polished every Christmas since the war-
its' very fabric bursting with what went before.

As if inside some 70s acid trip,
I visualise that sideboard in a skip
when I'm not there preserving family memories as they should.
So out will go my sentimental world for good.

They minimalise and throw away because they can.
But listen to me when I say
that objects can speak louder than the average man.

HORSE WHISPERS

From an early age I could speak to horses.
No fear at all of flailing hooves or overwhelming size.
The heady scent of musk can hypnotise,
and like osmosis,fuse our minds as one.
I am you and you are me.
I learn from you the here and now
and how to disentangle from my dreaming.

THE DROWNING

Remember that  time when you stepped off the world and into the sea?
The seals were calling as you made your way across the waves
and all the gulls could say was"Foolish boy".
I clutched your jacket, wet with tears,
and watched until you disappeared in your new lifes' mouth.
I wonder what you're doing today.
Remember that time when  you stepped off the world and into the sea?
Remember me?

AGE OF IMAGINATION

"A vivid imagination " said the school reports,
and yet I can't imagine how I got here,
to this place.
I can't imagine my son firing guns from tanks in blazing heat,
or how my mothers' mind in retrograde,no longer knows me.
I can't imagine what it's like to die.
I can't imagine why the mirror laughs.
I can't imagine life without you.
I can't imagine life.
I can't imagine what imagination means.

THE WORDS

I need to shout,and I don't want everyone looking at me.
I need to make it clear that I am a poet.
I need to tell you I'm a tortured soul
who puts down the words you can relate to.
I need to shout that the pen is mightier than the sword,
and speaks its' own subliminal language.
I need to shout that words are feelings you can't express.
But I can tell it how it is and I can tell it for you.
Just say the word.

BLANK

You haven't got a clue have you?
The boredom of it all.
Same jokes, the predictability.
Habituated nonsense, others call solid.
The dreary necessity of everyday,
the times I drown out your voice,
though you've never done me wrong.
So just like Brief Encounters' Fred,
You love me when my heart is dead.

CLOWNS

                         Everybody hates clowns.
                         The painted smile that hides the tears.
                         Tumbling buffoonery diverting pain.
                         The gaudy psychosis of the clothes that don't fit in.
                         Everybody hates mirrors.
          

THE TOURISTS

       Half baked knotted hankies on bodies like greased lobsters,
      wave Kiss-Me -Quick hats at passing pedaloes
      sliding through paella seas.
      Extended and expended families
      sway like corn to "The Birdy Song".
      Natives ,like gaudy toilet roll holders,
      spin faster than a lager louts' wallet.
      Carlos loves Tracey, chips with everything.
      Plastic keyrings and plastic promises.
      The coach arrives,
      returning them to factory lines on distant shore.
     Carlos sips sangria with his wife once more.

WINTER NONSENSE

               If I could lose my senses I would lose my ears,
               so I could not hear your voice,
               the one that told me you would always hold me by your side.
               The neurotic bride
               is waiting still,
               Alone, but for a robin on the sill
               who hops small imprints in the snow
                then up he flies to come and go as he pleases.
                How he teases with his winter wings.
                He seldom sings,
                learning not to give it all away.
                If I could lose my senses I would lose my eyes,
                so I could no longer see the lies
                that line that frozen face of yours.
                And space and time no longer mean a thing,
                when like a jester turning endless cartwheels for his king,
                I lost my senses.
                Heart and head.

  

UNHAPPY MEDIUM

                   There they lay in a room as one in spirit.
                   "No ghosts here", she said
                    as she sniffed the silvery air
                    devoid of common sense and all the books she'd read.
                    But for his silent dream,that sadly faded fast,
                    the air was cold,
                   And she could see the ghost was from his past.

LIFE IN A SEA OF MEN

                   I can't be your lover
                    as I'm just too nice.
                    I can't be your friend,
                    as you want me in bed.
                    I can't see my friends
                    as you want me for you.
                    I can't be your wife
                    as I'm too intelligent.

                    I can't meet your mother
                    as she would not approve
                  (and I might fancy your brother).
                    I can't be your mistress
                    as I don't lie well.
                    So instead of wasting time perhaps 
                     I'll spend my life with rescued cats.

ALSATIAN FRIEND(2004)

                            It was the 30th,
                            and on our way to bed
                            you collapsed on the stairs.
                            All night long we sat up together.
                            Panting faster and faster,you refused to sleep.
                            On guard and faithful to the end,
                            My blonde black doggy friend
                            who understood my tellings of the times we'd shared
                            and how much I loved you.
                            A sigh was heaved as the sun came up.
                            Then you were gone.
                             So on New Years' Eve I lay alone with a picture of you.
                             Thank God you missed the fireworks.
                

MR.WHO-WHAT-EH.

                       Mr.Who-what-eh
                       was a man who didn't listen
                       yet he heard my every word.
                       And when I left,he didn't seem to notice anyway.
                       All he said as I closed the door was
                       Who?
                       What?
                       Eh?

INSANITY CLAUSE

                         My world is grey with no sunlight.
                         Birds of a feather sing atonal.
                         Genius is my first name,
                         Madness,my last.
                         Call me and I'll run away
                         to my own world
                         where animals are human
                         and people don't see me.
                         I hear myself talking
                         but it's  not me.
                         There are,you say,
                         no grey areas
                         in your land of black and white,
                         where animals are just animals
                         and people watch your every move.
                         Lonely lyrics to the air.
                         No one hears you,no one's there.
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