Kalami Bay. Corfu.

The White House

 

Half a moon rising over my left shoulder. The sound of water lapping in the bay. Murmurs of tyres on the winding roads and children’s voices rising softly from a distance come in and out of play. Otherwise it is peaceful. Yellow and orange lights form tapers in the water. It is a mood I am comfortable in.

My wife

My wife. pic for poem

 

she lies naked on the bedroom floor

doing  yoga poses, utterly exposed

these are the moments I like best

one leg drawn into the waist

a scissor of flesh in soft light

the darker shape of body hair obscured

an ineluctable triangle of mute desire

and we talk and share this shared space

this one, of many, moments that accrue

to form a comfortable bond. a union of trust

then I will go and do something quite mundane, like

clean my teeth or make a cup of tea

as she unfurls in blind nakedness to stretch

into another pose that readies her for the day

that we go toward, together, as innocents

To Claudia and Lisa, ( and I could ask for more). Lisbon 2016.

bar-staff-lisbon

Don’t ask for more.

October sun. Shadows.

Dark fingers witness

the patterns light plays

As I sit naked

with a breeze stroking my flesh

a seagull’s distant screech

and sounds from the street

rise up in music

to colour the air

concealing those foreign vowels

A casual complicity for the traveller

Me on a narrow balcony

four floors up

could be Soho

but this is Lisbon

Below a man clean’s his car

It’s sunday

Outside. Basking. Outrageous

And I could ask for more

Invisible across the tiled horizon

the Tagus is broad and easily able

to carry me on spikes of white light that dance

A playful icing on the world’s shared sea

An old tram powered by a rickety digit

to wires overhead

clatters on narrow tiled streets

that have lain and listened

to hooves and feet and secrets over centuries

absorbing the heat

The wild ego’s in flight vainly competing

against an inevitable fate

clutched in shared space

So passengers are forced to adopt

a humble pose for transit. For experience

To experience the exotic, the foreign

A morsel to remember for sharing when home

When all the tongues share vowels

that conjure sense from excited air

Back home to boast

of where we were

I really shouldn’t ask for more.

Request Stop

fragments linger

fragments linger

 

The summer folds. Light fades

All those tourists. Now, office bound

So the to and fro of carefree feet

Are roosting. Anticipating change

Culture, fun and sun

The extremities that leisure permits

Will be put away until the pot

Permits another jaunt

Another tilt toward the far-side

Where mind, memory and hope

Are teased by vainglorious innocence

Force us in our fidgeting existence

To run risks with charlatans

And have our hard won dreams

Run aground and ruined

Or, and with this hope we persist

Our time abroad

Leaves a glow. A welcome stain

To carry home

And hope that there is more

To squeeze from the tube

Marked FUN