Evening In

I won’t go to the party
I’m not the partying kind
You could ask my ex-girlfriend
I’m sure that she won’t mind

I did once speak after dinner
I was the father of the bride
Nowadays I am much thinner
It’s been an odd sort of ride

The clouds they are steady
The distant children shout
The wasp it almost settles
The couple inspect the house

I won’t be there this evening
I don’t know the social signs
Ask her, known as my previous
She knows all the leverage lines

I did once hold my corner
I put a bully in his place
I am less inclined now to own her
The questions though, they still embrace

Available on Kindle

Department

First poem of the day
Drinking coffee
Watching the time
Yesterday I was too early

There is twenty-percent off in the sale
Mother, and son, question, then answer
She has searching eyes, he wonders
How will others see me in this

All the window seats are taken
The man behind me, in the queue
A regular it transpires
Reserved his seat before ordering

It was the seat which I had had my eye on, yet
With the calmness of a meditator
I took the sofa furthest from the window
And it seems, with that, a new trend was begun

Away from the sun, away from
Distractions caused by the pedestrians walking by
Steps then taken, back into the shadows
Retreat into the stillness, of quieter times

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Coupled

I was excited
Yet also disappointed
I knew that she loved him
Adored him
Besotted with him

I wasn’t so sure though
Of his feelings
He seemed detached
Reticent almost
And then he paid the bill

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Insistent

Always with a question
Always
With the same question

Yet never asked
No, never proffered
Hidden so deep

Hidden away
With that great security
Of insecurity

Always with contemplation
Always
With that same meditation

So often fallen
Into
So often fallen out of

Dwell so deep
Dwell with that great time
Of no time at all

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House Work

Dust, and sand
Dust behind the doorstop
Donkey stone to clean the steps
To wash the weary thoughts away

I heard the rustle of wind
Through the grasses in the garden
I heard the heartbeat
Of my quietening, barely beating heart

Sand, and dust
Sand in the bare-toed crevices
Wring washing through the rollers
To drain the doubtless doubts away

I heard the chimes
Hanging by the doorpost
I heard the breath
Through my lively, pulsating heart

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