Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Make the Man
Striped deckchairs
Chiffon dress
Heads in books
A softer breeze
Beds with plumped up pillows
Rose gardens
Weeping willows
Cups of tea
Quintessential:
Fits as if a three-piece suit
Or ducks plaster cast threefold
In flight across the fire place wall
So what would you take with you
Other than paper, a pen and the sanity
To fetch back from your mind
That which you have already known
That which you know makes
The difference
Between the here and there
Between the then and now
So what
Would you take with you
To make the man:
Checked frocks
Embroidered smocks
Garlands round the maypole
Hand pulled ales
Hills and vales
Strangers resounding
At the clarion call
By the tall trees now in slumber
Somewhere East of Clumber
Deferential
Sticks unpicked
Past glories
Lost & stumbled
The shoddy
Without the shimmer
With thread and pin
Therein to sing
That sometime
The fabric’s time
Not with medals
But with honour
The fabrics time arrives
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Capture
Your sign
Of sunshine after rain
Of clay
Close upon your surface
Of winters now far away
Wide grass, wedged between your thumbs
In front of your cupped fingers
Your breath
Without the grass gives a hoot
Or is it an owl
Somewhere in the distance
This moment
I stroke beneath your eyelid, then
Ask that you turn
To face into the sun
Such that the camera
May catch (capture)
More than just the essence
Of the past, or the future
Or your presence
In sepia tone
Or black and white
Or pixel plenty colour
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Monday, 5 December 2011
Pink white blossom
Crooked vine you have turned
At every turn, yet
You have yearned not of going back
Always instead to reach out, without end
Or fall away
Wither there, to die a quicker death
Curvaceous leaf; your sheaf, your shape
As her neck nape with pleasure gave
Strains of the toughest, twice turned cheek
Always instead to float until way past late
Or drip when clipped
Annotated as a signature, on the vase or cheque
Pink white blossom - you arrive unnoticed
Well dressed
No thanks to the hibernation times
Always instead to spume your fine perfume
Or phrase your dusted past
Onto the pictures of our pastured pavements
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Imperfect Words
Mown grass cut in crooked lines
She finds her beauty in the painter’s eye
There by the water butt & the buzzing fly
Twisted bark and washing lines
Drying out the nearly nigh on summer
Starched collars and double cuffs
A uniform to bluff the chuffs you must
Just now and then disapprove of
A lazy space; a place to phase
A future resurrection, a collection filed under
Imperfect words, absurd to think that they
Make you smile, while all the while
The workmen wonder
Thunder rolls, ramblers stroll
All for the love of someone East of Clumber
Lumberjacks and rookies hats
Right on mountains, with fountains
To the sea, through the waterfalls
Seats in the operatic stalls
Hold all the calls
For then you’ll see
The mown grass
The fir pined tree
The painter man - and me
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
Friday, 2 December 2011
Peaceful Deflection
Crimson in bloom
Right beside the buttercup
A fair distance
From the pampas grass
Or the overhead
Twin propelled
Airships
Aeronautical extravaganzas
A little closer
A good deal closer
With closed petals
And
The touch of silk
Colours
Of the oriental
Sunrise
Escape from
Thistles throttled
Bottled scent worn
On special days
And Saturdays
And always
Worn always
When in love
I sprinkle dry grass
On my cotton
Sweatshirt
To see the grasses
Shadowed patterns
& to see the
Sparkle of the sunlight’s
Rainbows on my spectacles
Smell of fresh grass
Smell of dead grass
Aroma of peaceful
Deflection in sunshine time
Of late afternoons
Later more than mornings
Before the day sets, with the
Dance of the evening primrose
Long thin grasses waive and bend
The heat’s rays it seems defeats them
Thankful for the breeze
With her soft fingers
She tends them
Lends them back a life
She stands them up to be
Once more erect
This poem is from the pamphlet Rainbows On My Spectacles - Love Through a Lens
To see the complete collection click anywhere on this text
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