Bare And White

I was an apprentice to a head gardener

Although I have to say his demeanour was more of poacher or gamekeeper, a wily old character

He sold flowers to the master, most of which were picked from the master's grounds

This particular morning we were persuading the master to buy two large roses

The head gardener was showing off two very large roses

One placed to each side of the not insubstantial fireplace

Afterwards I was taking a cutting of a flower, from a bush or a tree

In pulling off the flower I also pulled away a long strip of bark

Which showed the bare white branch beneath, as if to remind me of virginity

Or as if to remind me of the sap, which once did rise

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Maybe I Really Do Need A List

I intend to set out a timetable, to let go of several things before I retire

I imagine by that time to have written my last piece of work inspired by, or relating to, you know who

I may close down blogs, or websites, which link to any of my previous Subterfuge of Love writings

Should I send off any previous publications which specifically relate to YKW

Should I approach potential publishers, or should I just let go of my pseudonym

What could I think of, to fill, what will be a significant hole in my writing inspirations, without YKW

But is this just another gesture, to box everything up, to post it off, only then to start again

Maybe I really do need a list, or a stronger, more truthful motivation

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Discards Whatever I Throw

The boiler is travelling from Italy
Possibly cheaper by a thousand pound
The world is now the marketplace
I'm no longer on solid ground

I've found all manner of failings
As I've carried on looking around
I've lent against Georgian railings
Listening out for Gregorian sound

I've glimpsed you in the morning
I've glimpsed you in the night
You came clear without warning
How is that even half-way right

That you should hold such a place
Arrive just whenever you might
Bring the memory of your face
With the thought to fly my kite

The light is clearer now
The fears have been exposed
It's a bit of a sham and how
I thought the issue could be closed

I don't suppose I could call it poetry
It most certainly isn't prose
But it is a heartfelt piece of treasure
For someone who nobody I know knows

For somebody who if I wanted to be cruel
I could say she discards whatever I throw
A once wonderful woman who I can’t even dual
A past treasure who to no one can I show

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They Never Did Accrue

I'm on my way now
I'm out into the fast lane
I will find my way somehow
I realise life is simply a game
It's a shame we did not tend it better
But surely it came as no surprise

I think I said so in my letter
That you had brought on my demise
But your absent words confirm
That this once young go-getter
Will carry on down the slide
Whatever he may eventually decide

I am running late
I won't make it on time
But this isn't our date
We have committed no crime
That was in the past
A place it seems we hardly knew

Our nets we did kind of cast
But they were not strong
They never did accrue

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No Sapphires Or Swirls

Two miles to the airport
Ten miles to the sea
Six more months to court
These final thoughts
Final thoughts of you, by me

Smoke from the chimney
Dust on the aeroplanes
Counting up the losses
But altogether forgetting
Altogether forgetting the gains

Once more to be the pilgrim
Once more to be down on my knees
I have lost that level of humour
Where with you I was able to tease
With you I was totally able to tease

I have lost the lightness, the forgiveness
I am lost with some kind of disease
It's about being unsteady
Not being ready for what comes my way
Not at all ready for what comes my way

It's about the bed we shared
The night times when we cared
The love which won't go away
The lust which claims the day
The lust which always claims the day

Memories undoubtedly
Neither clear nor true
We didn't make it to the big time
I don't know if others do
I don't know if many others do

Instead we fell off the fine line
We slipped all the way through
What is left are the hollows
There are no sapphires, no swirls
Absolutely no sapphires or swirls

What's left then to follow
Are those unsent letters
Scribed in secret to be posted
To a once pretty young girl
Scented for a once pretty young girl

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