Monday 27 June 2016

Sadness (New Poem)


















Embracing sadness
You tell me
It is in your heart
As much as your soul,

Unstitching itself
On boat shaped stones
Underneath the pier
Lost in the sunset

Absent-minded like
Placing imaginary notes
Wrote in feelings
Across the wind

Changing directions
Within second
Swaying wearily
Back up the hill

Singing unwritten songs
On the other side
Of the ridge
In half kindled feelings

With no sails
On the horizon

No catharsises

In remains of churches.

Sunday 12 June 2016

Strangers in the night















Standing there like stranger at a bar
There are three Irish fairies
Tied together
Which clearly want to go home,

Three football figures
Of now retired Spanish footballers
And two pigs
Both of which I am convinced
Are odd little jokes
Friends got for me travelling,

A Edward Sissorhands figure
Which I accidentally nicked
At a bookshop in Brighton
And which I am too
Embarrassed to return

A tiny Cadburys Chocolate Van
Which is more years older
Than I know
That my Uncle gave me
A week before he died
And has followed me
Through three addresses since
(And four removal vans)

An Indian goddess
That I have no memory off
And am half convinced
appeared on-top
of my bookcase
almost by magic,

a Kabuki figure
which keeps falling
down the back
no matter what I do
leaving me thinking
it’s a ninja in disguise
really,

Pebbles picked up
From Poole Beach
At last 15 years ago
Which my then
Girlfriend
Said was a heart stone
And would give me
Endless luck,

Pens that ran out
Of ink years ago
Writing bad poetry

And now Shift uncomfortably
With each footstep
Wondering whether
I would throw them out
Like a bad afterthought

Or tinker with the order
Like members of
A rock band
Replacing each other

Brazen in the shadows
In forgotten
holes of memories

Running through
Imaginary fingers of my hair
Every time I look at them

Naked through journeys
Away from myself

And into time. 

Tuesday 7 June 2016

Dreaming of a different kind of realism


















catching silent pictures
across circular fields
suspended like a hammock
dangling between trees

floating in the mood
your camera snaps truths
feathered within
the early morning light

splicing feelings
beyond grey templates
and mashed up feelings
dreaming of silence

building footprints
in the shadows
or the mud across
each picture took

writing a different
kind of poetry
every time you press
that button.


(For Sara)