Shame of sensation

Green wheat
On the sweetest day of summer

Where Tennyson heard
That Byron was dead
He engraved the news, deep
In the sandstone of long memory

That first day of summer
& the corn was high

Or would be later in the year
For Tennyson, the corn
To disappear, life too dear
Cleared of his father’s reputation

Feared of shame and sensation
An odd kind of situation

Humans with emotions

I walked there
And back again
Looked in all the windows
Opened one or two of the doors

In truth I wasn’t really looking
For there is nothing that I need
But I liked the time just to wander
To see the pigeons feed

The pensioners study
The racks of three for two
The tins of pilchards are past
Their sell by date; nothings new

The flautist plays
His electronic mandolin
He sells lots of the Big Issue
It’s hard to stay so thin

The schoolchildren size up
The cost of liquorice sticks
Choose one colour or two
Or better value in the lucky dip

The opera house is open
The autumn catalogue is news
Blues Brothers, or Tourandot
The eclectic amongst you choose

Sun shines on the fountain
The dress shop picture is quite a pitch
Tourism given over to pride and prejudice
Thank the Lord, Chatsworth made it rich

Back past the old disused spa baths
Stone flags; great worn slabs
Weathered for centuries, but now
In the hands of developers
With tentacles like crabs


…this poem missed out on the collection Massage slow, mellow in - Love off Campus to find out which poems did make it click here

Indifference

If only it was indifferent
Instead it is silent
Mute

If only it was significant
Instead it is blank
Brute

Charles Causley I believe once said;
“That a good poem was always about something else”

If that means different
About some kind of piled up, pent
He's really quite astute

If that means insignificant
Is that to slide down the blank
And blind refuse shute

Carl Dennis wrote;
“And write about the life
You can talk about”

You left to walk away
How often have you heard it said
Or said it yourself

You would talk, but
Have not a thought to say
Just words with which you play

Jane Kenyon in her poem Happiness:
“No, happiness is the uncle you never knew
About who flies a single engine plane”

Over moor of purple bramble hue
Under cider presses wooden screw
The hope is ever new

In factories and submarines
We bang the drum
Tam the tambourine

The love now blue
Was for a while
Ultramarine


…this poem missed out on the collection Massage slow, mellow in - Love off Campus to find out which poems did make it click here

Moving Picture

I look at your picture deeply
I look at your picture
Your eyes smile
Your picture moves
I look at your picture deeply

My focus fades
I re-set the locus

I look at your picture deeply
Once sad, my gladness now

Sees a smile
Your smile, no more tears
Your years don’t fade away

It’s past two in the morning
Here’s hoping

I look at your picture deeply
Sepia tone fine grained paper
I smile
A scarf, a pendant locket
It was taken a good while ago


…this poem missed out on the collection Massage slow, mellow in - Love off Campus to find out which poems did make it click here

Round wrung floodlights

There was a shaft of sunlight
Right across the flags
A spot of cloud sunk sunlight
From mad, to sad, to glad

Observed with interest and culture
Slight refrain she nags
A spot of cloud sunk sunlight
From boy, to lad, to dad

Nowhere to take you
Except from peak, to peak, to peak
A lot of round wrung floodlights
Poetry, fiction, drama, strad

Instead beside the iron bed
Led from the here and now
Taken to a memory, shaded
Shadow of the Bhagavad



…this poem missed out on the collection Massage slow, mellow in - Love off Campus to find out which poems did make it click here