Trolleys line the corridor
Like ships waiting to enter port.
In the resus room
Heart monitors clang
Like ships’ bells in the fog.
Sep 3, 2023
Sep 3, 2023 at 6:22 AM UTC
What use is a horse
If I cannot tame it
And ride to your rescue?
What use are the stars
If I cannot pluck them
From the trees
And light your window?
What purpose the rivers and hills
If I cannot offer them up
As gifts to you?
Jan 4, 2023
Jan 4, 2023 at 6:30 AM UTC
For RG.
On the day you passed
I was in Istanbul
And the ATM outside
The Radisson Blue Hotel lobby
Swallowed my card
And I couldn't work out
Who to contact for help
On the day you passed
I drank coffee in a bakery
On the street
Where the gypsy woman
Selling flowers
On the corner
Gave one to a stranger
Asking nothing in return
On the day you passed
The people in the hotel
Looked worried,
Said it was strange
But I knew why
The sun went in
And it rained and rained
And the man on the corner
Yesterday selling sunhats
Started selling umbrellas instead
And I got drenched to the bone
And never wanted to see the sun again
Because I felt so sad and alone
Jul 1, 2022
Jul 1, 2022 at 5:44 AM UTC
Unwelcome, the berserkers stole in from the East,
On their long ships, shallow-bottomed beasts,
Swinging axe, ****** swords in hand,
Swearing death by Odin to all in this Christian land.
And though there was little gold to speak of,
They tore what there was from neck and alter both,
Then burned our homes before they left
With Peter’s daughter, leaving father bereft.
Jun 15, 2022
Jun 15, 2022 at 4:44 AM UTC
This is no life,
Merely an existence.
Where is the cunning
In scavenging for scraps
From these bins
In nocturnal gardens;
The most common rat
Does the same to survive!
I have heard our elders tell
Of the greenest fields and the sweetest grass;
And I have dreamed vividly once, too,
Of midnight hills and rivers -
An innate memory of a life
that has never been mine?
Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 4:01 PM UTC
All the stars in all the skies
Are not as bright as my Love’s eyes.
Imagine all the seas pooled together,
Wild roses blended,
And yet they are not as deep and red as her lips
When I bend to kiss them.
Tonight Politicians continue to argue
about what is right or wrong,
Lower taxes or raise them
Create & break legislation like fences
Nurture corrupt ideology.
Yet I am not disturbed-
My Love's hair shines like a host of golden suns,
There is the scent of a thousand crushed flowers
in the air.
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 8:51 AM UTC
Do you ever leave me when
All my thoughts,
Every fibre you possess
Both night and day long?
In darkness you are my dreaming,
And all day my light and song.
Though disparate,
Distinct in beak and wing,
We are inseparable,
Gathered forever within.
Aug 12, 2020
Aug 12, 2020 at 10:59 AM UTC
At work he was one of those people termed ‘difficult’.
He liked to question things, things long standing,
He would ask why, nudge at times the status quo.
He knew his reputation because the boss told him so.
‘You’re’ difficult’ he was told ‘and it needs to stop.
We don’t like problems, only solutions, so change your ways
Or you’ll have to leave us, simply go.
With a flourish, the boss indicated to him through which door.
The trouble was, he couldn’t change at all,
Even if he had wanted to he couldn’t change his ways.
He just couldn’t help asking ‘what for?’ and ‘‘why?’.
He really wasn’t ‘difficult’, just unable to follow the corporate lie.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 6:40 AM UTC
One by one we leave here,
Not always as anticipated,
Nor in any sequential order,
But all eventually leaving here
Over time.
In the end it could be said
We are all just passing through,
Treading water,
Waiting to depart.
And if we are among
Those considered ‘blessed’,
Doesn’t longevity
Just mean in the end
That our loneliness becomes more apressed
Against our yellowing skin,
As we hang on dearly to the past
A terrible ache mounting in our heart?
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 9:19 AM UTC
From Dublin he came, or a village thereabouts;
No doubt it was the potato famine drove him out;
Just another starving **** sailed to Liverpool town
Then onto Hull, where roots were put down.
The decadal Census Records take up his story thereon:
The cheap rooms he rented, rough streets lived on;
Close to the docks and the Irish pubs now gone,
Seems he finally settled with Mary, whose hand he won.
Yet the Records tell little of his actual life:
The day to day struggles, disappointments, strife;
Whether he loved Mary and their four children well,
Is something it’s impossible from statistics to tell.
There’s no hint either that if we could meet one day
We’d find a connection, things to say.
Maybe we’d hang awkward, the moments tense and long?
‘Though I like to think the familial bond would kick in strong.
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC