refractory

‪refectory

i asked the neurones‬
‪is that all i am‬
‪the neurones replied‬
‪you poor soul‬
‪that’s not the spirit‬
‪is it‬
‪oh god come on‬
‪you’re fired‬

lockdown

lockdown 

‘you moved it’

‘no i didn’t’

‘yes you did’

‘well, it’s your heart’

walls

walls (Mount Pleasant hospital) 

at first it was the walls

high of dressed stone 

and then the small windows

workhouse windows #

that’s what they were

see

down in the kitchen how small they are

the cooks looking up through the steam

to the balcony around the down

see now 

there are nurses in and out of these doors

where the old still remember the workhouse 

although they know not the day

or why i am not their mother

but the stigma - yes the stigmata

god - the stones are hard

and toil’s dried tears resides in mortar

between the stones

and the night light flickering

where the nurse’s station hums

the tune that ages have imbued 

with just enough care for the days ahead

the arrival of the iron man

the arrival of the iron man 

they’ve brought in an iron man

that’s what dad heard the old men say

when he was a child

taking the bread and dripping down

to his grandpa in the tin works

it took two men to throw the tin sheet

over the rollers and the hammers

but now the rat science had sneaked in

and bitten off one of the men at the

knees that poked through the dungarees 

and brought those knees to unexpected prayers

and angry tears that would never roll further

than the dust 

no further than over the doorstep

no further than a slump into the fireside chair

the shift hooters laughing from the vault doors

of the iron master's ruddy cheeks brandied 

and bred in the west side’s sweet sea air

fed by the sweat in the smoking man hours

whose only collegiate clubs were the pub

the pigeons and lurchers and back gate

philosophies of the futility of hope

the iron will being annealed in those very tears

quenched in the damp graveside nodding at

another life run its short span

buried in the drab sarcophagus of the village

pinnies and scarves and shinning doorsteps

of pride and injustice polished to a sheen that

history would reflect down the ages of oppression

and pride at what muscles and mind can sustain

through human resolve and the restitution of time

a memorial

the writing shed

storm

and then they roost‬

‪on another of his lists ‬

‪stub pencil lines thick upon‬

‪the crinkled sheets ‬

‪the words queuing ‬

‪for another fag‬

‪for another cough 

another drink‬

‪until final arrive‬s

incongruously

‪all wiggly fingers and toes ‬

‪the poem is born‬

a cry without tears

‪for the poet it is‬

‪smiling‬

‪through all his muddy lies‬

a glint

snow goes

blossom comes

spring goes

summer comes

flowers go

autumn comes 

leaves go

snow comes

here we go

again

dawn chorus

dawn chorus

‪a circus of great tits visits and is gone‬
‪the sparrows titter at their antics‬
‪as king blackbird struts his stuff‬
‪the good queen turns the eggs‬
‪as the magpies turn their backs‬

‪time for coffee‬