the colour of the sand beneath the water
as the sunbeam splits and rainbow lights
the colour of the free-seen sky
and that imagined behind the single cloud
the colour of wishes and desire
Moments
I cannot fill my heart with words
I cannot fill my heart with words
but still I try
Aren’t you happy mum?
Nineteen ninety five. We did not know it was the last VE Day that mum would see. There was a party in the street. Mum was indoors crying.
Aren’t you happy mum? We won. That’s why we’re celebrating. We won, we won and you were there. It’s party time.
Don’t celebrate for me. It was not “fun”. A day of sad relief perhaps. It took my cousin, my uncle, your grandad for six years, his health for the rest of his life and what should have been my youth.
Twenty five years on and I see the celebrations on tv and remember mum and the others and I wonder.
Washing up
The ex-boxer looked down at his red thick-jointed hands emerging from the soapy water. So it had come to this. He shook his head, the spirit rising in his chest again. The door opened. “Hurry up Grandad, we want to go to the park!” He smiled and wiped his hands.
Stones fall
stones fall in rivers to her leather-strapped feet
thunder from earth and far beyond sky
she weeps, coughs, as dust grits her teeth
faces the eastern hill and sees the sun rise
Fresh green against impossible blue
Birdsong loud in crystal air
Spring bursts through unfurling leaves
Hope and glory
Hope and you
Views
My friends tell me they can see the sea
from their window.
Closer is harder, they say; in sight is in mind.
From my window, if I wipe it,
I see the other side of the cut through,
barred windows breaking up the brick facade.
I have never seen that nest before,
broken twigs, dropped feathers.
I back away from the window.
I do not want to frighten hope.
I want my best friend’s dog
My best friend’s dog is Bobbin
I could ask him if he’ll flog him
I could nick him when he’s jogging
I really want my best friend’s dog
the door slides open
the door slides open
my temperature rises
you are my virus
#haiflu
After the thunderburst
Only eagles and adult kites could ride out these winds; and the kites with difficulty. The sparrows, prey, remain motionless beneath palm fronds, an occasional shiver and shuffle of feathers betraying their location. Slower than it had arrived with a thunderburst, the rain slows and stops, the wind calms and in the sudden silence birdsong begins to rise again. Now, before the heat sweeps back in, or the southern storm once more, now is the time to find peace, or make peace, or rest, simply rest.
