Never
Is ever enough
Forever
Still needs some stuff
Archimedes
Pythagoras
Blunt and Blair
Does it matter
What they wear
Or even
If they care
Water
Into wine
Frosted pines
To share
Clever
Is never enough
Whenever
You call my bluff
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Never
Is ever enough
Forever
Still needs some stuff
Archimedes
Pythagoras
Blunt and Blair
Does it matter
What they wear
Or even
If they care
Water
Into wine
Frosted pines
To share
Clever
Is never enough
Whenever
You call my bluff
Take it on the chin
But at least
Let them know
That you did it on purpose
OK your literary history
Is thin
The holler, the din
The scholar under your skin
F words saying luck
The fall of all frustration
Your station
Stick to it, don't duck
You blew it
Would you just not listen
But there again you loved the game
And the joy of its playing
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I was thirteen I now realise
Forty one years ago
And forty one was the number of my house
Those thirteen years to go
You, you marched on London
Or flew in from the states, via Donegal
Read your poetry from the lectern
In that domed roof, circular celebratory hall
In Bradford of all places
Handing out fallen (or stolen) leaves
Without a hint of Maharaja or Punjab
Or Afghanistan; or even God bless them all
Is it then; for better, or worse
To have travelled to have fought the few
Is it then; for richer, or poor
To have liberated to have brought the new
I was thirteen, forty one years ago
I forget your answers
But I see your hand, undeniably white
In the dark light of the flickering leaf
A war fought
In a memorial hall
Blood on the pages
Foot off the ball
Angry young men
Girls with viscous hearts
But let me give you an explanation
Set for you a scene
My six string machine gun
With sunlight clouds and evergreens
Talk to me of freedom
Talk now and then of peace to me
Lease the land of my reason
Free me from a past identity
Or any other bollocks
That you think I might
Then forget to get even
Forget to think of right
Forget to fall all over in love
Or worse; forget to hold you by the hand
You gave out leaves
I talk of lesser things
You turned to grieve
I heard the robin sing
We do this for a purpose
Now though
Always to remember
To surprise your audience
You turn up the heat
I listen; tick-tock, tick-tock
You, in your unsettled seat
Turn off the lights and twist the lock
We do this for a reason
Now and then and always
But we don’t remember do we
Do we still have to wait until the autumn