This time it is not yet time to go

I move in all manner of directions

Restless some might say

Anyway

You lay in the sun, it's what you do

Not of course

That I wouldn't turn my hand

To footsteps in the sand

And champagne, uncorked

The other day

I heard the strains of Mantovani; Blue Moon

From a further room

Anyhow I must go now, the honeymoon is over

And yet

Our time together has not even begun

We've many more adventures

Laughter and kisses to share

The words are only pretence

Only here do I dare

To talk of a time

Without you

Available on Amazon

A struggle to say anything at all

They were sweet and simple words

No more than to say

Just that he brought all around to tears

By simply saying

How lucky he was to be in love

I cried then, and tears again yesterday

When I re-wrote the memory

What is it?

Am I so soft

That a few words

Can turn me over

So should I now

Begin to eat more substantially

Go and fill out my ignominious frame

For a later-on-in-life reading

You see

This is not a picture

Not a painting

Or a photograph

Where then

Am I to place

The displaced teardrops

Available on Amazon

Make of it what you will

This was to be

The penultimate poem

OK

I know it does not flow

But bugger it

You know

How carefully I avoided

That attitude stuff

My words

Meant less

Than meaningless column inches

If you so decree

I’m like stainless

Teflon Ted that's me

Named

In so many lady's quarters

He was shorter and fatter

I think you will agree

I don't do attitude

That's not me you see

Available on Amazon

If you know how their minds work

You were the last one to see him alive

You caught his last breath

And by chance, by coincidence, in death

You visited his next step

Now some do-good guys; from the society

Of traffic safety no less

They want to bring to an end the roadside flowers

No more the marginal messages of condolence

Nowhere for to grieve

For those who have had their lives snatched

Faster than ever you can imagine

Where then lay the souls of these reformers

Which school, of displaced compassion

Do they attend, or form, or manage

Yesterday I saw the young girl at the roadside

Her stare, vaguely out a million miles to nowhere

Her brief life, with its tragic interruption

Is this the peace which they would have taken away

Then do it

And for every colour that they take away

For every hue shed a tear

Then do it

And for every word that they take away

For every word explain then; oh why my dear

Available on Amazon

Why did this happen, again

I saw you at the roadside

By the flowers

And the messages of condolence

For a moment I thought to stop

To sit beside you

To introduce myself as a poet

In that instant your eyes

They saw right through me

There was I

Wanting to use your grief

For my own personal

Gratification and pleasure

However I drove on

Left you to your private meditation

Although on reflection

A few miles down the road

I wished it had been different

Always many coloured flowers

Always notes in plastic pockets

Up and down the roadsides

Scattered ashes, always by the corners

Available on Amazon