At Table

A dullness to the morning

Heavy in my thirteen-and-a-half stone

Writing in my hotel bedroom

Lost from my place called home

I decide to take cooked breakfast

To try to get back in the zone

It only costs five pounds extra

I have a window of my own

The railway line is fenced off

The stairwell filled with chrome

The silver birch leaves are limp

The television is the usual drone

The waitress is simply joyful

With the croissants, with the scone

The tradesman is way less happy

Apologising, on his mobile phone

These words are out of context

Should they make it to the tome

Would they be better off discarded

Or cut right back, made bare to the bone

available on amazon

Perspectives

Why is there no photograph

Of me with you

How sure of myself

Would I have had to have been

To ask a friend to snap us

With my arm around your shoulder

I don’t know where

You bought your outfit

Neither have I any understanding

Of how ridiculous you thought I looked

Or in what way you responded

To my father of the bride speech

You left me with my brothers

Went upstairs to our family bedroom

The ignominious hours were almost over

Though the everlasting damage was done

We were polite at breakfast, especially

With the remaining guests at table

A couple of days later

Back home in Devon

I wrote my own record

Of how I thought the day had gone

I didn’t capture any of these feelings

But yes, I do have a copy, somewhere

available on amazon

Standing

Only now do I see

That it was my turn

Oh how I took it

To play the blood

Is thicker than water card

Did you realise

From that day forwards

How it would always be for you

No longer numero uno, but now

A bit part in a larger family situation

Was that then the final straw

To our many many partings

Was the next unexpected leaving

Too much for you to look forwards to

Did you see all of my potential failings

Without a purpose

Would I have no anchor

Without clear objectives

Would I drift without aim

Could you in that case no longer hold onto me

available on amazon

Big Day

I do remember the arguments

My teenage son

Wanting to wear inappropriate shoes

To my daughter’s wedding

Something about

The immovable object

And the unstoppable force

Comes to mind

I think you thought me ridiculous

Childlike even

I think you thought me useless

Entirely lacking in negotiation skills

I don’t know that you know

How much you hurt me

How important it was for me

For the big day to go smoothly

Did I ever tell you

How I was watched throughout that day

In an attempt to keep me sober

With no mind to my anger or my disappointment

available on amazon

Resounding

I have a view

Through net curtain windows

A blue sky with thin white clouds

Beneath which sits

A whole forest of trees

Not in view

But directly below

My third floor

Is a single track railway line

Going to, and coming from

Back in time I also wrote of what I could

Not have seen, from my hotel bedroom window

Firstly the promenade, in Lyme Regis

Then that encroaching black black sky

Which eventually stole away my horizon

The coming from, and the going to

They all happened too too often

Even now you might see

That I am simultaneously struck

By the echoes, of arrivals and departures

available on amazon