Take this morning

Take this morning.pic

 

A crow, darkly black, sits

on the red, rigid beam

of a child’s playground ride

 

A herald to rise

on a spell

mixing colour in the air

 

Sleek form glimpsed in a dazzle of blue

from the sheen on those wings

stealing away

 

Leaving static the surrendered plaything

for a mother to push

later in the day

Make my day

Make my day. pic

 

you’re going to see sense

going to break

like a favourite flavour

on your face

you’re going to crease

and show some teeth

that serious side you’ve got

on display

has been there for years man

you’ve got dust

filling the cracks

and eye’s man, they’re tired

get some shine

on that fascia

make it easy for me man

SMILE

The Bridge

The Bridge. pic

 

a chasm exists between us

that spans so many lost years

so much neglect and all of it mirrored in his dark eyes

My first son, long lost, not yet found

sits at a table with me and we are so close

to fumbling over words and hurt

that we are like young  lovers

without power over the letters we seek to shape

into a definition of that sense of loss that is

a survivors guilt and the need to attribute blame

His dark, thirty year old eyes are lamps

that shine on the space that divides us

and they tell me that nothing I can say will do

so I hope as I hug him and say goodbye

that some things can be repaired

After Mother’s Day

After Mother's Day. pic

 

in the quiet familiar room

fat, wet jewels sit on the glass above

like buddha’s  through which I see a grey monotony

 

this augurs ill for progress

as it shines reluctant light

on half formed plans

 

and silence clings at the contours

of the view from here

as the horizon yawns, mock idle, sucking me in

 

and there is so much to do

to overcome the apathy

and out-pace inertia

 

to dispel the dank encouragement

of dismal

and light the fuse

for new ambitions

A common neighbour

A common neighbour

 

I would be better served

to play a simple part

and forget any notions that

stretch to gravity, wit or pomp

 

it would also serve me well

to know my place

and reside there in peace

for I have a restless energy

 

and a mind full of buried treasure

all of which renders me

a danger to the gift

that was bestowed

 

when my mother first released me

and I took air

and a place in the world

next to you

Tips on self-improvement

I'll keep an eye on you

 

eradicate – eradicate

Dalek like they make

shots at redemption

identify – identify

those areas at risk

make clean sweeps

I have a plan

I’ll adopt a mantra

move on and grow

but I wonder

because I have been fit

but fit for what

and  where do the guru’s get their tips and how

do they maintain their virtue

when most of us identify with greed

and watch the news and slide

toward a listless nadir

strung out on disappointments

I’ve heard the exhortations of revivalists

who chant, goggle-eyed and sweating

for us to chase a rainbow

with imprecations to mystify the clogged arteries

and sticky tendons of the unfit

because I have been fit

but fit for what

unleashing desire

spawning acolytes in lycra

trim and taut and virtuous

yet deep down I know

the Dalek shouts to troops

who goose step in unison

along a road I am bound

to meet them on

DIY

Get a grip.jpg

 

I spend my time engaged

on Home Improvements

it’s tiring work this self absorption

incessant, monotonous and repetitive

and if I’m honest, for all the huff and puff

I’ve botched it

I am not polished or buffed

or what my son would call ‘hench’

I’m grey and lined and display all the hallmarks

that come with age

Will this disappointment  turn eventually to fear?

I am rust on the smooth haft of a padlock

it’s sheen a parody of atomic numbers

that emit pulses – half lives – I’ll take them

let me glow

I just need a minute to be myself

I’ll put down those spanners and that wrench

I’ll be less morbid

I’ll sparkle

just before

I put all the tools away