Henry’s nose

 

His owner dotes on him

a Beagle with a ‘nose’

for the finer things

that will take him

single-mindedly away from her

infuriatingly, away from her

when he puts the nuzzle to the puzzle

and, well, not quite sprints away

but in the way of connoisseurs the world over

focused and rather determined, as if,

summoned to a higher calling

sort of way

he goes off and does what Henry does

which misses for the most part

what his lady owner would like

as she generously takes time out

to indulge

Henry’s nose

in her otherwise quite busy day.

We are family

We are family. pic.jpg

 

All of this will go. Be gone.

I am in the dissolving instant

already dust  of the future

That text from Gilly brought it home,

how she remembered us on a patch of grass in Southbourne

and me imagining it was a pitch, a full-blown wicket

and I could score

make centuries and maiden over’s with my cousin

unaware of her sex or its implications

and now,  perhaps half a century later

I am returned by words and the memories of another person’s cache

of history to a place and a time I thought I had lost

Sometime soon I will blink and someone else will be reminding me

of where I have been

By God, is that what I get from walking the Dog

the intoxicating sense of memory unearthing scattered parts

of me

You called

You called. pic for poem

 

a slim rope braided to form

a cord from which a brass whistle would

in its heyday dangle as

a symbol of authority. This whistle

 is now a tarnished and tired brass ornament

on the end of a dusty tether

but still it holds weight and mutely muscled dignity

so history can resonate with respect

and call to mind the circumstances

when it was employed to summon assistance

to the long arm of the law

laid down in colonies that formed an Empire

in another world whose echoes and traces still pulse

in air that is all but oblivious to lips, now cold,

that pressed so urgently and blew

for order and help

in a time gone deaf to Imperial Rule.

El Colido ( Special Selection )

El Colido. pic

 

Del Coronas were the original inhabitants

of this nondescript wooden box

that sits mute on the table before me

a found object and within

the paraphernalia of reward for a serving man

medals, buttons, ribbons and bars

glowing in an incongruous melange

of untidy history

the man, my father,  has long since passed away

honoured now by scraps of metal

dim memories and a surname

that carries the line

so I wonder;

will I be found in a box

that once conveyed an expensive aroma

of unlit sticks, dull stones and bones

impassive but portentous

of what once was.

a tendency to lie

a tendency to lie. pic

 

 

our thoughts float

heavy in air so easily polluted

that they go as blind quislings in search

of a harbour that they can attach to and berth

for they seek comfort too

and we, lazy souls,

are not their best keepers

as we breath lustily with a desire to satisfy

the vainglorious self

when generosity would better serve

our shared experience

And so they go

And so they go

And so they go

Those that are on the cusp

Young men and women

With secrets and dreams

And unexploded fears

Congregate and dissipate

An intense human tide

So drawn to beauty

That tragedy attends in flight

They fizzle and burn

A contagion of energy. Inchoate

Beautiful in an unstoppable rhythm

That leaves scorch marks

Stains and wounds that are the innocents

Inevitable even before

It was known

And then the youths are gone.

Rhythm and Hues: ‘whoop-de-doo’

'whoop-de-doo'

‘whoop-de-doo’

A rhymester writes

I was always set to do

Something along these lines

The ‘whoop-de-doo’

A mission statement

My coat of arms

A calling card

A visual cue

The sonic signature

Of a guy who does

The ‘whoop-de-doo’

It’s attitude and life-style for a man

Who wants to mesmerise you

So listen to the little guy

Who is a shadow, you’re counterpart

When he whistles and coo’s

Aware that he’s been tickled by

The ‘whoop-de-doo’

There’s no hiding nor shame

In a continuous rhythm

That settles in the mind

Colours the blood

And fills all your waking spaces

With ‘whoop-de-doo’