Tricks - Of Disappearance

I write to no one

The fountain flows no more

Yet

There is a lightness

An emptiness

Beginning to dance

I write to any one

Even those

Who are not here

Yet whose spirit

Flows in and out

Of all of my minds

 

Racket - Of Sorts

Tinnitus

Or stereo soundscapes

Which or which

Let’s you know

That life is still with you

And that sloping roof

Beyond the hedgerows

Why and why

Is it at a right angle

To my window

Piano

And or violin

Out of both speakers

As I ponder

And deliberate

That such a voice

Can take me back

To such poor decisions

In the long

And distant past

 

Day Out - To The Old Places

Beside the canal

By the empty reservoir

At the entrance to the tunnel

In the spring sunshine

Of one more leap year

What kind of town is this

What kind of town is the other

Either way

They are both a long way away

And that’s a fact

But then again

Not many places can be nearby

If as you say that the sea

Is one half of nearby

To your home locale

Whereas before

On the spine of the country

Where moorland, and peat, and bog

Happily co-exist, in more or less

Equal measure, to the rain

 

Let The Good Times Roll - And Roll On By They Will

Tuck into the shortbread

With caramel and chocolate toppings

Knowing full well

That this is bad for you

But also good for you

The child, sat in the child’s chair

Turns around, looks around

The taps his hands on the table

Much to the delight of his mother

His auntie, and his adoring grandma

This is the day

That he takes his first taste

On the path to sugar diabetes

Type I or type II who knows

But always supported by his family

  

Pause Button - Released

In another place

Which for these few moments

Becomes my space

So much so

That I unbutton

My overcoat

And wait

For the words to flow

As I listen to other people’s stories