Poems
Look what computers did to my family
Here I stand, resolute, but alone, struggling to cling to the last vestiges of face to face family life. Saturday tea time tables and shared viewing. Those tattered curtains of distant memories appear unsullied when illuminated, through dyed pink lenses. Images of a life gone by. Down the shallow scree they fall, eager …
My dad was poetry to me
I’m not sure this is poetry. It’s about my dad and he waspoetry to me. The man who taught me to ride a bike, (by pretending he was still holding on) is gone. The man who taught me how to drive his car, (even though I crashed it, and we didn’t get far) is gone. …
Diluting Family Trees
part 1 – Breaking up So, we finally let go you and I – to be free. The grey shades of singular await us. Someone put my heart in an icebox. (I thought it was supposed to mend). It’s funny, there’s no wound, yet somehow, I feel raw. Perhaps my freedom …
A Dog for All Seasons
This is my dog, My Tess. My true companion. A dog for all seasons, My all weather friend. My big black dog, With a big brave heart, Who came home to say goodbye. Thank you Tessy, Pookie, Sweepie, Tessywoo, My Tess. Sleep well in the garden that you loved, May your spirit chase Frisbees forever. …
Rainbow
If you can Look, see the children play. Build sunshine from rain Casting rainbows and rubies, Find stairways to heaven And back again. If you can Listen, hear their voices, Bring music from sound Raising castles and kings, Find highways to freedom Begin on the ground. If you can Learn, with their teaching. …
On a night so deep you can taste it
On a night so deep you can taste it, I read your letter, aloud. Quietly. Uneasily. But I can’t make sense of the words. As if somewhere, between the page and my eyes, they gave up the ghost. Lost all meaning – jettisoned any sense they might once have had, on the journey to my …
The Boy Who Grew a Mane
When Ben was ten, he thought, for a while, I’ll grow my hair long, have a different style. So Ben grew his hair, and nothing could stop him, not wind, nor sun nor rain. And it grew in big locks, right down his back, just like he had grown a real mane. Unlike …
Post Covid: Special Needs Kids
What happens to… the ‘rear’ kids? the ones with the silent voices (that) go unheard. Their sound not travelling from the back of the class. Who listens out for them? Are we so deaf now? So immune? Or the ‘fear’ kids? the ones with the hidden bruises (that) go unseen. Their marks not …
Berries in the snow
Hidden in barren boughs iced berries, like frosted rubies, await the raw sunshine warmth of the day. They spatter the monochromatic blandscape of a winter in post viral modernity, dancing and laughing in the breeze. The gathering sun articulates their inevitable doom as it arcs across a pale cerulean sky, cut glass crystal crowns trembling …
To Derek
I miss The early morning kitchen cups of tea Catching up on the news and gossip I miss Those conversations across the desk tops Pretty much doing the same I miss Being summoned from afar And taking my reading glasses – just in case I miss Being texted or called in boring meetings Just to …