Categories
poetry

The last dream

At the base of a hill, a grass bank
unripe daffodils poking through
beckoning spring, while curious crows
hop around unkempt, a corridor
with a kind face, lights overhead
taxiing towards departure?
the raindrop running down
window overhead, like a tear
images you can’t place,
flit through your mind
skip, pause at random, while
the clock, relentless, counts down
hours, minutes, to an unknown time…

The waiting room, unawake
rows on rows of beds, sheets
unsettled disarray
save the few, clean, pristine
and in the shadows, collared,
for more without a clue

The end? a new beginning?
, some kind of vague middle? thoughts
muddle through the semi-conscious
chains of command to a general,
lounging back, cigar in mouth,
whiskey in hand, triple distilled,
“You’ll be fine, just count to ten,
nine…”
a soft laugh, echoes
and, as I close the door
peace at last.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

There is an illustrated version of this poem on Commaful, available here :

https://commaful.com/play/llwynog/the-last-dream/

Please note that you don’t need to sign in to view, you can just close the sign in pop up and the poem should still play normally.

Categories
poetry

The Scream

Not the greatest look,
but less, who should care
private plated, seat back, tuned
some far off desert island
eyes shut, mouth agape,
almost dead, can’t work out,
another Munch?
or catching flies in bulk
either way, you’ve arrived
when you lounge across
two bays, far from the queues
bathed in costly hide
from ex-German cows,
radio humming quietly, far
from the muddling crowd, mums
with pointy pushchairs, content
to let your better, younger half
fight others’ fishing wives
in retail heaven, or not
depends which way inclined,
somewhere in the valleys
with time to chill, on a Tuesday

Normally I’d be sorry,
for nudging the horn, but,
from the corner of my eye
it was a priceless awakening

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The Carpenter

“The patient chisel wastes no wood”
remembered, his father’s words,
a repetition, forefathers passed
each, the careful craft adjusts
slow, the steady, almost silent graft
of rhythmic hands, huge, hard as oak,
calloused bark, yet soft,
the often gentle touch,
shaving, planing curls,
almost delicate,
some bevelled, smooth,
edging lines, straight to curves,
mortise to tenon, turning
burning, shadows to the wall
from flickered lamps, and still,
the work goes on,

A labour of lost love, always
, the back of his mind, his son
left this trade for new worlds,
new minds to find, seeking warmth, hoping
but only cold, hostile tongues,
strange beliefs, men
without word or honour,
of a time, a world, not his
beauty, unspoilt by cynical eyes
his cloth and seed, surely
the best of efforts, deserved,
his wife, mother, silent now, just watching
a spirit entombed in wood, growing
taking shape, a soul knowing
the pain of every strike, every blow
a tear inside, but necessary,
death respects no man, unprotected
so the work continues, unabated
without compromise, pure passion
for centuries imitated, never surpassed
the cross of love.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The Storm

1918 : Spanish Flu Epidemic

Could see it, sense it, years ago,
for some, belief in ancient texts
an overdue, ‘End of Days’
others, a violence of thought,
a fascination with numbers
, human nature understood
whichever way we knew,
we knew, though for some
perhaps a grey, a flickering light
sometimes as bright, and then unsure
as radiant as remembered? yet all
could now feel the changing winds,
the imminent storm, yearned
the innocent days, the child
oblivious, as darkness closing in
the selfishness of youth, the ability
to dance in the gloom, to laugh
care free,
as shadows shorten, waiting clouds,
overhead, patient, bide their time…

Strangers walking past, silent
with quickened gait,
friendships cooled with fear, death,
her loveliest face,
empty of life, a mask
to a past of opportunity, distance,
your only comfort until
you too, succumb

The mourning after the year before,
the world that now affronts,
her dying tend the rows
on rows, as twitching crows
watch symmetry of lines, each
individually wrapped in plastic shrouds,
inside agaze, staring at their maker?

Not a future, but a past
long forgotten, a history unlearned,
repeats, again and again the same mistakes,
this is not the last, but a picture
to be studied, understood, and changed

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

the bay

the party showing
no sign of slowing, shrieks
from the girls
rising like a wave, then
crash against,
a low murmur of men, unaware
that yards above,
open windows, quieter
far less social souls
beached, like whales
wondering when
the saviour of sleep
takes them,
blissfully
into the calm pool
of a new day

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Be seen

Not sure what, really,
quite a strange affair
the big cheese, or Arch
of the Druids, over there

Pacing all solemn
towards ancient stones
with his grey clad gang
all glued to their phones

Said Health and Safety
, those that know best,
“You’re a danger to traffic
without hi -Vis vests”

So stopped in their tracks
looking rather confused
waiting to pray, or dance
but having to choose

Look more like a beacon
than deacon to stay
, one place on the planet
where druids could pray

With never a loss, yet
of limb or life,
unless perhaps
, an errant wife?

But I wondered if
another god they’d chose
, would they still have to wear
such bright yellow clothes?

Of certain faiths
the authorities are wary
but this little crew
are too small to be scary

So if you want a religion
that’s not pushed around
size is important
as this lot have found

Willingness to die
in the name of your faith
is also handy,
when making your case…

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

A life in care

Maybe it’s the mess,
or slight sickly scents,
roasted chicken, two veg, mixed
a carefree swish of bleach,
disguising, almost, a rising whiff
of you know what, with
the cherry, antiseptic

And I have to wonder
the wisdom of sense
as resist, again,
an urge to heave, or leave
as opening the door,
the house of memories,
fast forgetting, replaced
by repetition

Along the corridors
cages with doors ajar, borrowed,
months, maybe two
then shipped off, silent
before, hopefully,
fruits of a life
burned on these wasted shells,
similar in body, no spirit
as remembered

You, you’re in your chair, tuned
to daytime joys, maybe one day
I’ll stare in the same direction
wear the same bland expression
or maybe I’ll get lucky,
get taken by a bus, train
something quicker than this.

Offering you Balvenie,
your favourite, so strange
how the stranger knew
I convey the news, ignored
but politely, you always had
such lovely manners

You tell me today’s secret, again
I feign interest, again
I had no idea your daughter
was such, and that
you must be so proud…
the vacuum returns, blank
until the adverts, then
a flicker, but not for long.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Martov goes to Barnsley

Julius Martov

Martov goes to Barnsley

I heard him speak once.
sounded strange.
big scruffy bloke, beard on a box,
a bit deranged?
Imagine!” he says,
If your house cost a tenner
maybe said tenth? I wasn’t that close,
but it was cheap, whatever

But,” points his finger, says slow
You can only have one.”
we listened, prepared for the catch to come
Think how much better your life could be!
flog it for a fortune, grand,
sounds like a dream…
You’ll never need to sell it. It’s yours for life!
and there I was, stuck, as always,
me and the wife.

Arm to the sky “Who wins?” he shouts,
When it goes through the roof!
confused, especially builder Bob,
in his hi-vis yellow suit,
You can only sell it when you’re dead!
…pause…
we were pretty sure you couldn’t
Otherwise, where’d you live?
, not exactly rocket science…
The only winners are the banks,
making loads, hand over fist!

raised hands and fists,
in sympathy, then,
kind of wished we hadn’t

Vote for me, I’ll put it right!
but we’d heard it all before
so voted in our man in Red
as we always did up North
Remember, your vote really counts!
like all, was really keen
but knew they’re only down our way
if blue moon’s gone and been.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

‘Quirrel in a kilt

No mean to offend,
young laddie,
a point, if I may
It’s ‘Quirrels, not Squirrels

..a difference of ways

Not all big bushy tails
have ‘Quirrels
attached

Maybe pedantic,
this dance with semantics
perhaps, but

more than
a letter amiss
or our ginger tinge
to explain with this,
the Them and Us, they,
while swing from tiny twig,
we’ll seek the tallest tree, fly,
fall, all, as always, without a fuss,
them, no fearsome frights, no sense
fun or adventure, they’ve little rewards
no risks, no treasures

So cute, so cuddly?
so canny, so needy,
with greedy grabby razor Teeth….

Hard lives to fulfil, you’d think!
flitting from bark to branch,
boring and every day,
dressed in grey
while us,
ducks and dodges
tankers and trucks
between the wheels, but

Chance is our dash;
life in the moment
or squished in a flash

…That’s how it rolls,
fast and loose, the Lowlands,
life without stale imitations.

Red or dead.

And never enough mush,
only enough for another
furry, fat Squirrel

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Cinderella

can’t stay, places to be,
people to see, and mind
the gap
clear the doors
on my way, no time
to stop, no time
to chat, follow the
crows, over the
bridge, under the
hill, past the
trees, slowing,
steely, silent,
shovels, unshaven
Watching

Waiting,

green light
back on track,
through the
town, no one to
see, towards the
city, never sleeps
never breathes
full of the faces
tip of the tongue
tight in a tux
gossiping girls
hang on the arm
wobbly heels
half a skirt, less to lose….

…… centre stage…..

from a sleep, deep
to life at night, passed by
worth a try
slip of a dress, dreams
dance alone, shapes
sensualise,
fresh, follow the scent,
country lass,
out on the tiles, miles
endless queues, queens
dressed to kill,
kings still, without a heart
found a prince
lacking charm,
losing faith, lost shoes
kicking off, too tight to walk
takes the floor, above
shining lights, ground
spinning round,
stage fright, slip away
found, another world,
another place
full of the wolves
Watching

Waiting

Slowly, green light
, midnight, got to go….

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Halloween

Porky, freckles,
fat with his flowers,
bouquets in buckets
the lay-by boy,
a bottle of coke, diet
with chocolate mice
and gingerbread men
all sit around, engrossed
( if a little depleted )
listen to stories, tall and wild
make you believe, it’s true…

They were born in the hundreds
And died in their teens
Now walking the earth
By night, In search of..
“a couple of quid , miss”
“for a sorry old rose?”
needs loving, Infection,
Fresh meat, Craving blood , All
Hallows eve….

forgotten the day
he married his love..
“quick! a tenner carnations”
should do the trick
eased journey home
As hell awaits, Axe in hand
Eyes glazed, Not a sound until
“how much?” a finger points
wavering, a price and a frown

Dragging his arm, Tendons mashed,
fragrant freesias, sad
they were the last, Limping
Through the graves
The scent of lilies, And death…

The hero, Tall,
Muscles ripped
Saves the day, The world, The girl,
Around his neck,
The softest kiss
On rugged cheek,
a ginger whiff
the crowd, thinning fast,
a gulp
, and washed away,
until tomorrow…

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Poem in a bottle

This,

Could flash across
, a blink of a
cliche

In hand before
you’ll finish that
sneeze

The instant world

A quick response
, satisfies your
needs

Almost,
before the shell returns,
empty

So no,
I’ll pause
for thoughts

Place those gathered, slowly
in a bottle, glass
No more plastics
, pollute the sharks

Then,
to the murky soup below
throw hard from the pier
where
a hundred years or so
on some far off beach,
bleached
by the Tasman Sea
when I’m gone, long,
my thought
still bobbing along
waiting,
for the one,

Young bronze, torso bare
wild, flowing hair, a discreet
tattoo, delicate touch, showing
just a hint,
sliced his toe
on my shipwrecked lines
the curse, undeserved
But I’m sorry nonetheless
for the rock,
that changed my complex
muse to mush

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

A Dog’s Life

When you can’t work out why,
when things aren’t wrong,
they’re just not right
and you bark at the moon
, being so far away

When the reflection isn’t you,
just an older, faded shadow
and the eyes staring back, weary,
another day of hindsight
not the same as looking forward
fresh, sharp as a hound

Could I just drown those sorrows
without the calories, today
or the guilt, tomorrow
breaking that resolution
try, be a better bitch?

Maybe, be kind to this
for a change?
instead of feeling life
just creeping past,
on its belly, jaded bone
after bone

A body that grows now
every place it shouldn’t
betrays intent
, to slip
a tail that wags
because it can, then couldn’t

Tried natural remedies
the playing fields, as young
as the dog you feel?
want to be wanted, but,
when off they trot, as always do
the empty space returns
, hollow, with a vengeance

So remember, new life, young life,
the cute puppy face
is just for Christmas, and,
maybe birthday cards.
Old is for Easter.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Medecins Sans Frontieres

This poem is dedicated to all those who risk their lives helping others in war zones.
We never found your body, three weeks,
of confusion and dust, 
no one seemed to know
or care, numb in their private tragedies,
and wary, 
still some soldiers leaving the city.
So I told Harun you’d gone to Jannah,
Insh’Allah, to wait for him.
He says surely you must be bored, 
no sick to heal.
We found a woman, a mother, searching
through rubble, said you saved her son, 
her last,
the day before they came, took you away.
She showed me her picture of you, 
with a boy,
same age as Harun, smiling, 
with his one leg.
And we smiled too, as wiped softly,
each other’s tears, and then, 
gave thanks to Allah.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The Rebellion

Where were you the day she came?
the rain, to wash away our fear
and folly
you told us to believe, so we saw
what you saw, nothing
no farmer lost
amongst the dust
no open mouths
without a sound
no fog of grey
decay, lingering

Our eyes were blinded by the prize
cheap, plastic toys
long discarded
an ease to travel, fast
to destinations
now lost
lives enriched
by cheaper costs
time saved,
drank more, worked more, ate more
talked less

The answers lay, cupped
in our hands, but
as always, we knew best
they pleaded, begged
for us to stop,
we replied with higher walls
taller towers, until
the screams became shadows
impotent
as we hacked and chopped
men possessed
on poisoned lands
until all, took its toll

The wheat grew thin
the cattle fell,
the tides withdrew, revealed
our barren shores
under, as always
the unforgiving star

The city streets, empty now those long gone, mere footprints save a lucky few worn and tested waiting, hoping for this day the day she breathes again as parched like Lazarus, refreshed the earth, with its tiny shoots believes finally, a new day will dawn

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!