the old man who lives down the street and we say the man just came to see you and he shakes his head and says who’s the man and we shout YOU THE MAN and he laughs and laughs and is happy for a while
memory
family portrait
every time I count the faces in the family portrait
someone has moved
I almost remember who is dead and who’s there
the quick and the good
the background is foggy
a lake and some trees
a cousin near the centre
on his or my knees
I almost remember who is dead and who’s there
I almost remember I’m dead
when we are gone
when we are gone there will still be rainbows
light fractured through our loved ones’ tears
20 December
you look forward
I search back
brothers centuries apart
inspired by Dominic
04 December
We paint over the faces of our forebears
when their time has been.
Blank wall canvases in the church or beyond the industrial walls
tempt further figures from minds to fingers to eyes.
Do we need to remember so as not to repeat?
I paint to forget.
Inspired by John
Rain ran down
Rain ran down the statue’s face
as it had since the casting, the carving,
the muddled unveiling,
the cheering and booing,
the eventual forgetting.
Rain ran down, uncaring.
(My) mum and (your) dad
Many years ago
today
she arrived crying in the world.
Later I remember she would smile.
Some years more
but still today
and many miles away from her
his parents felt their world complete.
They smiled.
Never knowing
but through the years
they lit the candles together
laughing in a distant unison.
He did not know
and nor did she
and now she is not here
and he does not remember.
For years now
since she left
the celebrations have been singular
but heartfelt
by all.
It would be inaccurate to say
It would be inaccurate to say
I remember chalk springs
and water meadows.
Memory implies they no longer live inside me,
shaping my future,
the clarity of the water chilling my bones.
I can never forget them
or the colour of the foliage
or the too-soon long walk home.
in response to a tweet from @londonlitlab 15/07/21
beyond the hedge
beyond the hedge the sound
of children laughing
beyond the bridge the sight
of feathers falling
beyond the sea the sense
of two hearts beating
beyond all time the memory
of your hand in mine
always summer
memories burning fiercely
undimmed by ceaseless downpour
always summer in my heart