Friday, 15 January 2021

and then there are the windows

 

and then there are the windows


the ones with steamy tears

freezing into art

or the bottle-bottom ones

squirming at the thought

of the leaves trying to get in

or out depending on the thought

nailed in screeching down the panesss


the rolling races to the bottom

besmirch spoiled by the finger

pointing out the lights on the horizon

or the black ones reflecting

if outside is inside or vice versa

is in the eyes


the stark trees of winter 

corkscrewed by the rain

or the deciduous of summer

dancing green


the cracked ones loved

or neglected  lost to thoughts

of who they were  the dwellers

and can we see in on them 

even now

after the spiders have laced the shroud


the picture windows

the matrix panes with just one

or two shot out by time’s arrow

defenestrated - isn’t that what they say

of the rusty


the boundary condition

the stopping of flattened palms

leaving minds to wander alone

over the edges that draw blood

in the dust of a stopped thought


close them now

  please

i need to sleep

and there is this draught 

draw the curtains

lock the windows of inside out


Thursday, 14 January 2021

the ingrowing toenail

 denial in the de-nailing of the toenail’s human rights

what’s left but ablation of the intention

be off with you I say

be gone 

ingrow no more

go - just go

Wednesday, 13 January 2021

sorry

it’s like one of them horror films

where the walls with spikes move in

unstoppable in their promiscuity 


a pandemic of global issues

incurable in their extinctions

no hope at all of steering through 

before the walls impale


the pallor of youth never to brogue

in the veined cheeks of age

or ring grey the eyes of looking


that sinking feeling on the marsh

with overpopulation floating upon the threat

of mass the extinction of any hope 

orphaned unnurtured terminal


the velocity of our demise 

repeated over and over 

it is true   but

the end 

seems so final - does it not


finally we see how blind we were

blind to the abyss

over the annihilation of hope


and that is the very end of it

unfortunately the anodyne word

for there will be no one left to hear

i am really sorry 

me I said

 me I said


for a minute there I had no idea where I was

where for a minute I had no idea I was there

there there I said to myself 

when someone answered

who are you

where did the voice come from

I asked 

where does the voice come from

it asked


me I said

Tuesday, 12 January 2021

A mirage

 It is a shock - isn’t it? - to come across a mirage and to realise that reality is not real after all. Like Ivy tearing the off the bark from your tree of life; all we see is the tracks of wood beetles where a love heart should be engraved. To laugh or to cry lingers at the edge.

the last leaf

 the last leaf


tattered and torn

and almost gorn

gorn in this morn 

on the other side 

of winter’s demise

that insatiate surmise 

that may be

oh - just may be

spring will be born

will be born

Saturday, 9 January 2021

little boy

 little boy


all the things the little boy did

all the brave things that hurt

little did i know that i would be watching

me then and now and then 

it hurts