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Wednesday, 10 May 2017

A500/M6 Junction

Cars and lorries stream past
Their noise disrupts my enjoyment
Of the concert on the classical radio station

This is not a salubrious lay-by
Old scaffolding poles hold up the canvas canopy
At the hot & cold roadside greasy spoon

There is though no shortage of clientele
Compounding my belief in that old saying
That to be a success in catering, it is: location, location, location

Whether it be the black suited businessman
Or the more down to earth steel toe-cap construction chap
It is the bacon sandwich which today is the wealth creator

But it is not, I guess, bacon from the local Staffordshire pot-bellied pig
More likely it is bought in bulk, from the purveyors who travel
In and among the all-day-passing black marketeers


Tuesday, 9 May 2017

Last Look (Without Words)

Silhouette in the shadows
All those stymied
Doubt filled bones of distrust

Home for the dust motes in the cobwebs
Easily led to those disaffected
And unattested thoughts on the bedstead

The shadow, and the silhouette
Are mere motor-memories now
It is that time of clearer light

Becoming necessary to write the final chapter
The attempt for capture is over
The exodus finally delivered the sun

The rest of us must go on
Transcending the transference
Into the silence

The silent silhouette
The silent shadow
The silence which echoes

To the loss of those disaffected
To the cost of those unattested
And to that imposter, of the one neglected



Monday, 8 May 2017

Taken (Without Receipt)

My usual pew
On the back row
Is reserved

Also
The bench, ahead of that one
Is similarly stamped

I determine to move
Nearer to the front
But decide against recording the proceedings

My initial quest then
For a suggestion and response audio recording
Of the Buckfast Benedictine Monks is scuppered

Instead I am here for Compline
The final-minute bells are sounding
This is my new purpose

To feel the stillness
To immerse myself in the quiet
Before the misunderstood rituals begin


Sunday, 7 May 2017

Doppelgänger (Without Trace)

Why shouldn't I imagine that I see you
Sat out, in the corner of the Lavender Garden
In conversation, on your mobile-phone

How much hope can be destroyed
By those twin forces 
Of human nature, and human nurture

Why wouldn't you, choose to sit there
In the most obviously noticeable area
Of this somewhat, considerably discreet, location

And if I could listen in, to your words that is
Would I smile, with warm interest, as I identified
Your libidinous turns of phrase

Or would I
Through clearer speech recognition
Realise how foolish I had been

To have thought of you, either as my lover
Or as you wished, my friend
For all of those intervening years


Saturday, 6 May 2017

Cart Track (Without Refrain)

I kick the leaves

Not knowing
Whether to laugh
Or to cry
Not knowing
Whether to be happy
Or to be sad

I look back on my life
For signs
Of some achievement
Not knowing
If, to feel
Is not itself sufficient

I watch the leaves
Which fall onto the cart track
The cart track
Which climbs up the hill
To the five-bar gate
The five-bar gate

Which I feel
To have always, yes always
Simply to have straddled
Not determining
For one side
Nor neither, for the other