Three poems to end the year

i 8:58PM write poems x1 x1 x1 I wrote on my week’s to-dos. It’s 8:58PM on SUNDAY. The radiator’s cranking up; Counting down to the bedtime routine. This isn’t a poem: it’s a snapshot. ii. write poems x1 x1 The idea was to help me See each output as a ‘1’; As a single entityContinue reading “Three poems to end the year”

Outside the day was perfection

Watching the bees Here are the words of the blazing day and the once beautiful arrangements. It was heady, was it not? The arrival of this brightest of days. Outside the day was perfection. Here a few few bees in the garden hid under clumps of cut grass. Why are they tucking themselves away? OrContinue reading “Outside the day was perfection”

Fenstone’s Flower

Another short story from the hip. Fenstone’s Flower Fenstone was in his favourite pottering spot for a not quite warm, though there be some sunlight day. He had finished washing the Saturday breakfast crockery and cutlery, scraping down the plates of scrambled egg residue and croissant crumbs. This was Peggy and Fenstone’s Saturday morning treatContinue reading “Fenstone’s Flower”

Black coats, black pavements, black umbrellas, the rain

“Kirchner 1913 Street, Berlin“. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons. John Keats wrote his famous ode ‘To Autumn‘ on the 19th of September 1819. This partially inspired my poem posted this time last year. (This year, we are enjoying a generous bolt of extended warmth. The colder snap is still to come.) “Autumn’s ripened harvest store” offersContinue reading “Black coats, black pavements, black umbrellas, the rain”

Collapse

Its last pulse was the echo of an interior draught. Some time ago the sluggish monopod had taken its leave. Beached on the concrete path the brown shell has no way of putting itself at safety. The unseeing crunch the barren passageways underfoot. — The above poem is about an abandoned snail shell like theContinue reading “Collapse”

The Visit, or The Arrival of the Thing

There is a well-known Afrikaans short story Die Gog (The Thing) about an unidentified creature nursed and doted upon by a couple. The thing (die gog) is kept in a box, feed and protected. Eventually the couple’s mutual obsession destroys their relationship. This serves as an imagined prelude to the un-dramatic domestic tragedy of DieContinue reading “The Visit, or The Arrival of the Thing”

Such is clinging mind

There’s that thing, that topic that gnaws away in an alleyway of your mind. Perhaps it’s the last acrimonious discussion you had with a lover or the overdraft on your bank account, or maybe it’s a work project that didn’t unfold as planned or your child’s school report. “In an alleyway of thought” considers such matters that the clingingContinue reading “Such is clinging mind”

blushed apricots, green-skinned Hasses

Can you believe two years have passed since the London Olympics? I was fortunate enough to attend an evening of paralympic events. It feels as though it was only last year that I was sitting in the massive stadium, with an enormous lion emblazoned across my t-shirt and yelling encouragement at the athletes. Clearly, it wasn’t. ThatContinue reading “blushed apricots, green-skinned Hasses”

A day too fine for words

Trump such sultry sunshine with a screen? That will not stem creation. The words set out for basting in the warmth; crossed the bridge at Embankment station. The Thames and sequins on its skirt, scintilled in summer brio. The words, now on the move, snacked on radishes a frio. — Thursday, 3rd July was suchContinue reading “A day too fine for words”

look – really look

I will be 80 this year here in my flat only a mile and a half from where I was born. I have tried to lead by example, by plunging my narrow balcony into the principality of hanging gardens. Concrete is brutal. It needs softening. Plants should have dominion. We breakfast amidst the crisp verdureContinue reading “look – really look”