For Daf

For Daf

 

the clematis climbs in a hug

around the bushes and shrubs

and rises in a triumph around a conifer

like applause

A curtain call for this morning

while twin jet engines grind the air

on an ascending scale away from Heathrow

with a vow toward wherever it is they are promised

but down here, in our garden, I feel no resentment

not for the noise nor for those high flying dreams

because I am bound in this sumptuous scene

happy in May sunshine with cool air

on my naked skin,  newly cut grass glistening in the dew

and nothing much else to do

except perhaps to plant a kiss

on the cheek of a favoured friend

who has picked today, of all days

to celebrate

mayday. mayday

mayday. pic for poem

 

snow is falling with stalled gravity

ponderous in white

a gift we’re told, from Russia

whose flakes stutter in our shocked air

inscrutable as they land

whispering in thick accents

and huddling in a carpet of nonchalant threats

on our lawns whose thoughts

have already turned to spring

as shocked daffodils blanch at the intrusion

dog walkers assemble to dissemble

that the biggest ‘dump’ will be on Thursday

and so we all return to base

 and wait

for everything we ever said

to come true

A player at the gate

A player at the gate. pic.

 

he plucks at the air

cheese-slicing with the strings

of his mandolin

in a nook in the park

a morning surprise

for dog walkers

the early morning stalkers

people

like me who walk the dog

and contemplate before the day

is fully underway

 

that plaintive sound

is like a herald

light on its feet and

with no malice in its whisper

 issues tones like a broadcast on the day

;  ‘the democracy of joy’

how kind of him to lay in wait

and assault us with music

You man of strings

I commend you for giving me

a bright start.

Ridiculous

Ridiculous

 

I call my dog ‘Ridiculous’

which is of course a tad unfair

but as the boss

I uphold my right to interfere

in everything we come across

especially when I shout ‘come here’

and the blasted dog doesn’t give a toss

then someone remarks she has lovely hair

expecting me to agree and doff,

my cap

which I rarely do when the weather is fair

though I do if it’s raining cats and dogs

or to fend off an angry Terrier

but just to underline the point. She is ridiculous.

I am the Boss no matter what gets into her.

Bloody dog looks incredulous.

Come here!!!

Slide and Seek

austrian-tirol-for-poem

 

A cold line of crooked teeth

against the blue horizon

are capped-white enigma’s

Remainders of a broken jaw

woven into a map

 

Striated flank of mountain range

Game to conquer. Level with?

So, hoisted on cables that strain toward heaven

a wind screeching to howl

amongst the twisted metal, a filigree in rare air

 

We, romantic gods go offering

praise on soft white loins

bared below nominated peaks

then gondolas disgorge swaddled beings

on sticks, to conquer half tamed swathes of mountain side

 

A world inverted, beyond vanity

it’s snow raked by wind and tides of moon

the pliant mountain flesh is strafed by

chromosomes and hieroglyphs

garish

pulsating on selfish whims and adrenalin

 

Until natural forces take her back

and offer up another view.

Preparation

Preparation.jpg

The sky spits loose slivers

of perspiration from above

that echoes off leaves

from a canopy of trees

that rustle and murmur

in a soft, disturbed breath

that is soothing.  Sounds kind.

A suitable accompaniment for

quiet thoughts

more often prone to find

hindrance and the staccato

of static,

that annoying rattle in

the displeased mind.

The roar of disapproval

in the untrained ear.

And all of it is the concentrate

of the elemental. Fear or joy.

So I wonder

‘which way is it for me’

Which leaf fall. Which echo

will resonate.

Which path will swallow

my stride.

Start me up

MeLearned Fish.jpg

untrammelled by fear

the first thought

that fragile thing

wrestles

with those first

moments unleashed

before the day unfurls

that precious arc

of the fisherman’s net

cast wide, and it

should always be an optimistic sweep

of eyes not yet occluded by doubt

limbs not bothered by gravity

and a heart willing to pump

fresh energy to gather-up

the mornings catch

always in debt

to deep, deep sleep