Paired Up

First there was one woman, one woman in blue; we began by flirting, then we made further advances, it wouldn't be long for we were coming on strong. Then her boss said 'let's go to the restaurant' so off they went, much to my cant.

On the next occasion there were two women, two women in blue; the one from the first occasion came up close to me, then her boss said 'we ought to book a table at the restaurant' and off they went; the second woman began flirting with me, more sensual and overtly sexual than the first woman, this one was making her intentions perfectly clear. 

Then the first woman returned, I was confused. I thought I sensed friction between them; the first woman moved very close in to me, as if to say 'leave off, this one is my man'. I didn't confirm, nor deny, anything.

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Bigger Cities

The quieter it becomes

The more I hear my ears as horses prancing

The later it becomes

The more I see the fires crimson flames dancing

Could it be the same in Amsterdam or Venice or Rome

Would we find the fire and the quiet more pleasant than at home

I walked to the hairdressers

Past the red brick shop, past the red brick houses

I saw an advertisement for a part-time job

In the department store where they sell satin blouses

Would it be the same, in Paris or London or Milan

Could the hairdresser do perms, or top up your fake tan

Dusk is slowly setting in

Do you fancy a pint, or a tonic laced with gin

Would it be the same, near or far, or wherever

Let's hold hands and breathe, yes my love: it is now or never

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Wall of Innocence

The brochure talks of camaraderie

International camaraderie at that

Though for myself

I was overcome by the fear of nostalgia

Along with a reminder of my fear of heights

For I have walked that path

Between the two carvings of Sark Island

Along the narrow causeway

Then down the steep steps

To the beach hundreds of feet below

Now I sit here; for a while, no words

Just need time to recover

And read only into the present moments

No worries, I feel ok now

The past is often an unknown place

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DIY

In this light there is real peace

Sky and breeze and life at ease

Slow formed flames in the fire

Calm the lust for lust's desire

Bold grey walls by bookshelves tall

We have made this home that we call

Those days of dust they are long gone

We sought out trust, with love it shone

Soft cuddly toys in the rocking chair

For the grandchild who played so fair

Pictures on the walls & windows too

The doves fly as they so often do

Daffodils by the 'Thinking of You' card

Life can be tough, life can be hard

But with logs laid up & candles to burn

We can move ahead, continue to learn

As that day we found these soft armchairs

We thought to search, we chose to care

Cushions, and tables, and a music stand

Statues & lampshades, all rather grand

When friends come they say it feels calm

And we watch movies sat arm in arm

On the big screen projector in the dark

As with all young lovers we love the lark

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Good; As Only I Know

It is not for you, nor I, or for anyone

Other than the the poet who wrote the words

To call it a good poem, or a bad poem

For only the poet can say, with anything

Like approaching absolute conviction

That the words say, what he as poet wanted

For anyone else to express opinion, either

Objective or subjective is, in my opinion,

Poor form, for a form that is beyond clarity

That I have the cause to rise on this point

Is down to a fine piece of work by Wendell Berry

He writes well on The Responsibilities of a Poet

He only lets himself down, as many others have also let

Themselves down, by suggesting that an observer could

Name a poem a good poem; it is not so, it never will be so

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