I look up at your window,
As I pass by.
The shutters are closed,
Blank and white against the western sky.

I look up at your window
But you are not there.
I long to hear your thoughts,
Watch you re-arrange your hair

I look up at your window;
I want it all.
But it is not to be;
We were never meant to fall.

I look up at your window;
Today I see the sky.
I want to stand beside you,
And watch others pass by.

I look out of your window.
You do not ask me why.
I look across the Irish sea.
Where others watch you dry.

I look up at the window;
I see someone in your place.
You have now gone,
Leaving not a trace

I turn away from the window;
The wind of time has blown.
I walk home in silence,
To eat porridge on my own.

All along the river bank
Where the water-crowfoot grow,
There are creatures scurrying back and forth,
Excited, they seem to know

On the winding waterway
The oarsman ploughs a furrow
As his canoe pushes swiftly homeward
As if there’s no tomorrow

Busy workers in the city
Run like ants, hither thither to and fro
They bump into each other, get up, say sorry
And then have another go

The lonely farmer in his tractor
Is going as fast as he can
But there is long meandering queue behind him
A lorry, several cars and a van

The postmistress in the village
Is suddenly rushed off her feet
As all her customers descend upon her
And buy stamps by the sheet

That is the cause of this frenetic activity?
What is the reason for all this fuss?
The word is on everyone’s lips
The word is Christmas

On the morning of Christmas Day
The children wake to feel weight on their feet
A stocking full of presents
With an orange or chocolates to eat

Soon the turkey is in the oven
And crackers on the table
Uncle Tom and Auntie Flo arrive
Along with cousin Mabel

But do not forget on this special day,
The homeless out in the cold
Or the people ill in hospital
Their stories need to be told

Pause for a moment to remember
To venture outside your door
And share with your fellow beings
Some time, food and drink and more

Shall we leave them to it now
And watch from some faraway star?
All the gaiety fun and laughter
On the best day of the year  - by far!

We shall meet under a lamp post,
You and I,
As in the old movies of another time.
No-one else shall be there,
To witness our conversation,
We shall draw our overcoats around us,
Against the cold and we shall hasten to
A pub and find seats beside the open fire.
We shall drink whisky
And talk as we have never done before,
Looking deep into each other’s eyes,
Full of understanding and love,
Another whisky, a double maybe,
Followed by stories of our youth,
Tales full of laughter and joy.
One more whisky for the road
And then we shall help each other
With our coats
And with a dramatic bow
And a shout of “All for one and one for all!”
We shall stagger giggling into the night leaning against each other.
We shall stop under the light of the lamp post
Where you will take hold of my lapels,
Draw me towards you and kiss my lips.
You shall smile and I shall smile.
“Au revoir, mon ami”
You shall say as I watch as you walk away.
You don’t look back,
Why should you?
You know all the answers now.
You shall wait patiently for your family to follow
And, until those days arrive,
You will visit them in their dreams,
With words of comfort and wisdom and wit,
Causing them to wonder how they can dream of sadness
And yet awake with a smile and a light heart.
You know.
You know that your body no longer has life
But you, the essence of you, will live forever
Fuelled by something which shall never die,
Needs no explanation – love.

We speak the same language,
You and I,
When we are sad, we smile,
When we are happy, we cry.

I leaned against a wall,
Concrete, smooth, grey,
You pressed the shutter,
The first of the day.

We walked across stones
To my beautiful sea,
Full of strength and purpose,
Just like you and me.

I found a stone at my feet,
Coloured with veins of blue,
It was the perfect gift,
A gift from me to you

Then you said farewell,
With a tear upon your cheek,
A sign of the fulfillment,
That constantly we seek.

We speak the same language,
There is no denial,
When we are sad, we cry,
When we are happy, we smile.

Go to sleep my darling
And let me wander through the night,
Looking for the answers,
Looking for what is right.

Allow me to stumble
Upon your dreams both dark and bright,
Then leave me on my own,
To wander through the night.

I have seen what is wrong,
As it changed me in your eyes,
I have seen all too clearly,
The sweet and bitter prize.

So when you awake
From your travels both far and near,
Call me, my darling,
Overcome your fear.

The fear of failing
To understand the black and the white,
The fear of looking,
And finding what is right.

Go to sleep my darling.
Fear not, I know now what is right.
It is you, my love,
You, you are my light.

Oh, I want to **** her
Yes, I do,
I really do
Oh, I want to **** her
But I want to ******* too.

Oh, I want to kiss her,
Yes I do,
I really do
Oh, I want to kiss her
But I want to kiss you too.

Oh, I want to hold her hand
Yes, I do,
I really do.
Oh, I want to hold her hand
But I want to hold your hand too.

Oh, I want to speak to her,
Yes I do,
I really do
Oh, I want to speak to her
But I want to speak to you too.


Oh, I want to watch her walk by
Yes I do
I really do
Oh, I want to watch her walk by
But I want to watch you walk by too.

Oh.

Swim
and
Dream,
Swim and dream….
My eyes, they are open but cannot see;
Yours are open like the petals of a rose.
You see clearly but why not I ?
You guide me,
Through the rushes which bend
Like Russian dancers,
This way, that way,
Over the rocks which seem to move
In the shifting sand;
Up to the light where naked limbs kick and struggle.
I blink in the sun;
I glance left and right,
I twist and turn,
You are gone.
I swim,
I dream,
Swim and dream….
And there you are,
Asleep on the sea bed.
Through a stream of bubbles I dive down
And you wake,
You smile,
I lean forward,
You laugh,
As the sun ***** you to the surface.
Your toes brush my fingers
As you climb past;
I follow,
We swim,
We dream,
Swim and dream….
Dream of the sound of shadows
To come .
What is that sound ?
It is nothing,
Nothing at all.

The nightingale sings
Beneath a silver moon
It is a song of melancholy
It falls upon my ear
Like a lover’s whispers,
Urgent and persuasive.
It is your happiness
That I want most of all
I see it in the frames of old films
In the swing of your hips
The melody guides me through the dark
To the beat of the crunch of the deadwood
Until I reach the water’s edge.
You are there;
The reflection of your body,
Shimmering in the ripples fed by the breeze
Which breathes over the lake,
Disappears as you push forward,
Searching for what you have no longer.
I stand and watch for a while
Then move on
For I have nothing to give
Only the song of the night bird
Over which I have no power
The cool water strokes you
Not as once I did
For in those days
I gave you your happiness
That happiness
Which now I want most of all

I cast off my clothes, as he had asked,
And stood against the tree nearby.
I bent my head as he demanded
And the river, well the river ran by.

I brushed my skin and looked into the sun
I waited patiently, stared him in the eye.
Voices from surrounding hills faded away
And the river, well the river ran by.

After it was over, I picked up my shirt
It was cold and wet, I don’t know why.
The insects danced in drunken delight.
And the river, well the river ran by.

We walked on through the grass and the ****.
The music in my head caused me to cry
He did not notice. Perhaps he did not care.
And the river, well the river ran by.

I ****** in the water and he looked surprised
The wild sheep grazing, seemed almost shy.
A rotting skull crumbled into the earth.
And the river, well, the river ran by


Afterwards, he left me alone and drove away,
He shook my hand and said goodbye.
I never saw him again, my friend.
And the river, well the river ran dry.

They smiled their warm welcome,
I was safe, secure, again.
They held my hands firmly
They called me by my name

Called me back in time
To when I did not need to think
When I stood on the edge
They called me from the brink

This is the power I have lost;
No-one needs my advice.
Aviva cares for me,
Holds me in its tender vice.

I have no need to wriggle free;
Why should I want to leave?
It is only now in the dark
That for my loss I grieve.

I smile, I am happy
But I know nothing more.
I have lost the strength of the working man
I have shut my office door.

They smile, they are happy;
They keep me safe from harm,
They hold my hands tight,
They smother me with charm.

I smile, I am happy
But not as I used to be -
Then I was strong, human,
Living my life ruthlessly

I gave no thought to weakness
Neither yours nor mine
I smiled, I was happy,
In another time.

If I were a bird,
I would fly over to him
And sit on a branch by his window
And sing melodies all day long.

If I were a lion,
I would leap on to his bed
And lie down beside him, heavy and muscular,
To give him the strength he does not have.

If I were a flower,
I would grow tall and graceful
And give out the perfect aroma
As he sits on his garden seat.

If I were an angel,
I would float down and lift him up in my arms,
Leaving the disease where he lay
And restore and return him to you.

If I were the sun,
I would shine hot every day
To provide him with the warmth and succour
That his ailing body craves.

If I were God,
I would cure him tomorrow.

I am none of these things
But I am his brother
And if all the love I feel
Were transformed into a melody,
Into the courage and strength of a lion,
Into the perfume of the finest rose,
Into a choir of angels,
Into the hottest sun,
Into the most powerful deity,
He would rise from his bed like Lazarus
And be well again.

The boy pressed his palm on the glass,
It seemed warm against the hand of his father,
Who stood on the platform,
Looking at the face of his son,
Perhaps for the last time.
Be well! he shouted
Look after mama!
His son called back
He heard no words,
But understood as thin arms crossed a chest,
Heaving with sobs.
The man could not bear to think
He would never hold that small body again,
Never lift it onto his shoulders
Never see it grow.
His pretence of bravery,
Conjured by his smile,
Deserted him as the train lurched forward,
Then stopped cruelly,
Revealing the desperation in his heart.
He swallowed his tears
And shouted again,
Goodbye my boy!
There was no respite this time,
The carriage accelerated away,
Taking his son to a new life,
A new history.

Whisper it in the breeze,
As it rushes through time;
Say it in the way you smile,
As you swallow your wine.

This gamut of emotions
Which teaches us each day,
Each hour, each minute to learn
How to kneel and to pray.

I found tonight true friendship,
So simple, so pure;
I discovered its hidden secret,
Its mysterious allure.

So come, follow me,
Come join the wars of the past.
Fill up those heaving body bags
Until it is over at last.

I am too tired to elucidate.
How much time is left to me?
All I can do is write these words
And count from one to three.

Whisper it in the breeze
As those who came before have done.
Say it in the way you smile,
As you swallow the crumb.

Take off my shoes, my socks,
My crumpled suit and tie.
Begin to play as we used
When we had no need to die.

If you have what I have,
You will know that it affects every aspect of your life,
Your relationships,
Your friendships,
Your cognitive powers,
Your speech,
Your sleep
Your gait,
Your balance,
Your normality,
Your dribbling,
Your sense of smell,
Your marriage,
Your parenthood,
Your grandparenthood,
Your anxiety,
Your sensitivity,
Your reason,
Your mortality,
Your self-worth,
Your ****** performance,
Your self-respect,
Your ability to pull your socks on in the morning,
Your ability to joke,
Your ability to hide,
Your ability to stand still,
Your ability to swallow,
Your weight,
Your timing,
Your swagger,
Your urination and your defecation,
And if you happen to find a way to combat all this,
You are praised,
Which is very nice,
Very kind,
Very welcome,
Very uplifting,
Very comforting,
Very satisfying,
Very pleasing,
Very inspiring,
But it doesn’t go away,
It is always there,
Every second,
Every minute,
Every hour,
Every day,
Every week,
Every month,
Every year of your life until,
You die.
If you have Parkinson’s Disease,
You will know all this.

A violin plays
I drink some water
I sing a song in my head
As I imagine her in my arms
I stroke the sleeve of her cardigan
I have broken my promise
But she doesn’t seem to mind
She smiles
I dare myself to kiss her head
The moment passes
But like an off beat, strangely the time is right
She mms
But I let her go
She dances across the kitchen floor
To a hidden tune
I feel self conscious as I dance too
Someone calls on the phone
Neither of us answer
She begins to cry
I yearn to wrap her in my arms
I cannot
She looks at me
I look at her
Then I leave the room
I sit in the dark
With my glass in my hand
I know that she will not join me
I can still hear her dancing
On her own
As I sit on my own
And as I let sadness pour out of me
A violin plays

The feast was over,
I struggled to my feet
Feeling strangely satisfied
With how little I had said at the table.
I had watched my children
Represent me, not with my knowledge
But with their own,
Gleaned from their experiences, not mine.
It was comforting to realise
How well they shall cope without me.
I sunk into the armchair,
The leather one by the fire,
I dreamed of knights in armour
Fighting in a foreign wood.
I awoke to silence in my house;
No warriors here -
Only a mute stillness
Which demanded to be broken.
Slowly, I made my way
Into every room in my heart
And discovered each of them in turn,
Concerned in some important trivia.
They smiled as they were disturbed
And yet still no sound.
As I asked the question,
A soft call from a distant point
Grew louder, gently, gently.
I felt a hand on my shoulder
I opened my eyes.
You.
It was you.

She has a nest in her studio
She has a nest In her bag
She has a nest in her note book
A nest of memories of her mum and dad

She has a nest on several bookshelves
She has a nest of tools below the food
She has a nest of films on the TV
To watch if in the mood

She makes a nest for the tortoise
She looks for nests in a tree
She makes a nest of her bedroom
Even in her new lavatory

The car is a nest of tobacco bags
A bottle without a top,
A note if anyone wants the car moved
She’ll make nests until she drops

She has a nest of ideas
Her brain is a nest of plans and schemes
And when she goes to bed at night
She has a nestful of dreams

“Who are you?”
asked the mighty King,
As he watched the man
Kneel before him naked and in chains.

“I am what you might have been”
said the man.
“And what is that, may I ask?”
“I am a man free of obligation,
Free to walk about the country,
Without question,
Free to dance naked in the street”

“How are you able to do these things
What of your chains?”
enquired the king.
“It is because of these chains
That I have been given the opportunity
To do what I do”
answered the man
“I used to be like you;
A powerful monarch
Reigning over all that I saw before me”

The king thought for a while
And then he smiled
“I know what to do.
I shall free you from your chains
And allow you to continue as you always done”

“And what of you?” asked the man.
“I shall continue to do what I have always done” replied the king
“And what is that?”
“My duty”

“Would you not prefer to live like me?”
The king looked down at the man
As his chains were taken from him
“Too many questions” he said
“You are free  - go!”

Where do I go from here?
Floating down and standing tall.
Sinking without fear,
Pushing away from the wall.

Where do we go from here?
Circling each other on the border,
Never standing too near,
Never crossing the water.

Where do I go from here?
Deeper, longer, stronger than before
Holding on to a breath of air,
Longing for my feet to touch the floor.

Where do we go from here?
Down below or up above?
Maybe I should stay down there,
Waiting for you.

There are shadows in my life,
Dark places where secrets lie,
Waiting to be uncovered.
But there is no shadow
Without the spark of a match, the glow of a torch,
The blaze of a fire,
The flick of a switch
There is no secret in an open heart,
Some breathe in the fetid air of the dark,
Where there is no light, no shadow, no hope.
Others want to escape, to joy and delight.
I have no secrets from you,
No desires unexpressed, nothing hidden.
You know it all.
You know that when next we meet,
We shall feel as if we are naked
We shall lie together and talk and laugh,
You will light a candle and photograph the shadows I make on the wall
They will look like sprites
They will sound like the wings of birds.
There will be no shame, no blame, no guilt, no despair, no regret,
Only the secret of friendship.

There was a bow,
On a hook,
By the door,
By the green door.
It was a ribbon of red silk
I was not afraid,
I saw your white skin,
In the surf  
Under the grey sky.
Why am I writing these words?
I didn’t want it to happen,
I didn’t want my life misshapen,
I didn’t want another sister
To replace her,
But there was a bow,
On the hook
By the door,
By the red door.
She unravelled the ribbon of red silk;
She held it tight between both hands
Across her mouth.
I saw the fold of skin behind her ear,
It was too late;
She had gone.
That is why I write as I do;
To tell the truth.
To say categorically,
I am not your brother,
I will not be your brother,
I never was your brother,
I long to touch you.
And so I say these words of love
To reach out,
To touch you.
There.

I cannot explain to myself
What you have done to me
But I feel -I feel the connection,
Across the land, across the sea.

I wonder, as I wander,
Do you feel the same as me?
Can you feel it too
Across the land and the sea?

No, you are “almost young”
And I am old,
It is the child inside
That has taken hold.

That child longs for affection,
All he wants is to lie next to you,
Watch you smile;
That is all he wants to do.

What have you done,
To induce me to write such things?
What have you done?
Nothing. Everything.

Gosh! So many possibilities!


..............so what are the probabilities?
That roses bloom in Summer
And fill a secret vase
Kept out of sight?
That the tide comes in and goes out
That we shout our names across the sand
As we lie together in the grass
And kiss each other on the ****?
Oh the farce of it all.
I think I am circling you
But you stand and watch from the outer wall
As I fail and fall (with grace)
One day we shall share a glance
Just one look in the direction of France,
C’est moi, say moi, says I
As I look up to the sky
And turn to the left, no to the right,
Look ahead, eyes closed, open, shut.
It is not enough,
We swing, we sway, we sing, we play
At the possibilities
Whilst the roses fade away
Only to rise again another summer’s day
And another
And another
And another…….

A pale blue silk thread
Has been sewn onto my pillow;
My future hangs by such.
Now, I understand the actor’s question,
“Do you like killing beautiful things?”
In that case it was a rose
Planted, fed, watered, sprayed, nurtured, admired
And then cut.
It was grown to cut
Like the lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world was grown to be slaughtered.
The alternative would be the slow death,
As each petal falls to the ground,
To be collected and secretly placed
In the shape of a heart on a bed
Or laid out on the grass in a line leading the way to the casket buried in the earth
I call out.
But she has gone,
Trust me, she has gone
Perhaps something remains,
Hanging by a pale blue silk thread.
I do not deny the charge but I admit no guilt;
It was me.
I drew three dots on my thigh in biro ink
So ******* what?

The boy pressed his palm on the glass,

It seemed warm against the hand of his father,

Who stood on the platform,

Looking at the face of his son,

Perhaps for the last time.

Be well! he shouted

Look after mama!

His son called back but he heard no words,

But understood as thin arms crossed a chest,

Heaving with sobs.

The man could not bear to think

He would never hold that small body again,

Never lift it onto his shoulders

Never see it grow.

His pretence of bravery,

Conjured by his smile,

Deserted him as the train lurched forward,

Then stopped cruelly,

Revealing the desperation in his heart.

He swallowed his tears

And shouted again,

Goodbye my boy!

There was no respite this time,

The carriage accelerated away,

Taking his son to a new life,

A new history.

I see you in my dreams,
A white body in the water,
Your legs close to mine
Almost (but not quite) touching my knee.

I think back to the day
You came to your door,
Still wearing the warmth and stickiness of sleep
Which almost (but not quite) melts into me.

I wish I did not feel this way
But I do not seem able to stop.
Maybe winter will cool my ardour,
A question of almost (but not quite) wait and see.

I kissed your lips last night,
Almost drowned in cushions of flesh.
Should I avoid these somehow?
I wish almost (but not quite) that I could let it be.

I realise it cannot happen
The way I want it to be.
For all my so called liberation,
I am almost (but not quite) free.

My head and heart are in the ascendancy
But my body is in thrall to the drugs.
My diseased brain is at fault;
I am almost (but not quite) the real me.

Dressed in green and black,
The wool was soft
The colour, strong and vibrant,
Broken by a line of pearl-white buttons
From neck to waist
Fastened one by one,
Twixt finger and thumb.
The rest was black as the coal
Hewn deep under the earth,
Trousers, shoes, fingernails and hair,
And eyes, shining
Like dark hedonistic candles
From a clear, clean face.
I knew a girl who lived in Sheffield –
A city of factoring and steel.
(Do they still make knives and forks there?)
- a short distance from the Derbyshire woods,
Where once we walked
On blankets of moss and fallen leaves
One Autumn years ago,
Many years.
And now, as another Autumn approaches,
Here you are,
Dressed in green and black.

If I die today,
Where shall I be?
On a train or a bus?
Will it happen quickly?

Who will be with me?
Or shall I die alone?
What will they tell you?
When they call on the telephone?

It will be someone’s job
To take my body away
Someone kind I hope
If I die today.

I feel nervous now
I can hear them say the words
Both sad and happy
Like the songs of birds.

It is seventeen years now,
Since she died
Where did she go
Who was her guide?

It feels close now,
No pain I pray
For me or for you
If I die today

I dreamed I lived in China
The old China as it used to be
In a village in a fertile valley
Now buried by the River Yangtze

My father was a fisherman
He would go out in his boat at night
He would throw a line into the water
And wait for the fish to bite

I grew up and worked hard at school
I wanted to become a scientist
I had no interest in girls
At sixteen I had never been kissed

However one day I met my future wife
I saw her swimming naked in the river
I watched her dry and get dressed
Before making myself known to her

She was bold and she was beautiful
And much more interesting than chemistry
Soon we were swimming naked together
In the river and in the sea

We courted through university
And then married at half past three
In a garden full of lotus blossom
Beneath a magnolia tree

A year later she became very ill
And died in my arms in our bed
With her last breath she said to me
That she wanted to be buried in red

I found a cloth of deep scarlet
And wrapped it round her gently
Then I lifted up her tiny body
And carried her into the sea

The fish welcomed us to their world
And a part of it we shall forever be
This is my dream of China
The old China as it used to be

Oh, The Snows of Kilimanjaro
What do they mean to you and me?
I asked a man passing by my house
As I leaned against a tree

A novel by Hemingway he responded
A book I have never read
But maybe one I shall pick up
And read before I am dead

But, you sir, he countered
What do the snows mean to you?
I hesitated before giving my answer
That we, all of us, live in a zoo

How is that? he enquired with interest
Are we not free go where we please?
No it means that we are imprisoned
They have thrown away the keys

We have free will the wise men say
But, in truth, that is not so
We cannot exercise it
With our feet stuck in the snow

If you know all this said the man
Why do you interrogate me?
Because, I replied, I must know if I am correct
Before I have my tea.

There is a lone rider in the sky
I have never seen his face
But late at night,
I hear the ring of his spurs
As he urges his steed forward, forward.
He used never to be on his own
There used to be riders by the score
But his companions have disappeared, one by one
Until only this man and his horse remain
Listen.
I hear the ring of the spurs again
This time it falls more softly upon my ear
I look up
As the evening approaches
It is becoming darker
Not so easy to see
The lone rider in the sky
Listen.
There is no sound.
Look.
Both man and animal have gone.

10.30pm.
I am alone in my room,
All is quiet ,
All is calm
All I want to do is write,
Write words,
Write words to you
To continue our conversation,
To continue our connection,
To continue our understanding.
But words are not enough;
I want to see you
So, I close my eyes on the day
And there you are.
I am no longer alone.

3am.
Where are you?
Oh, there you are.
Slowly you emerge from the dark,
Your smile is like a torch
The flames of which lick and fizz.
You speak to me;
Your voice is like a violin,
Plaintive, yearning, lost.
We dance in the torch light
Until slowly we fall into slumber,
You, where you are
And I where I am.

My skin is old
My hair is grey
My speech is impaired
When I read the cricket scores in the paper
I am a boy again.
That boy
Who had no idea
What life would look like at 70
My tweed coat is motheaten
My stomach bulbous
My sister has been dead for 25 years
Is that all there is?
No, wait – there is so much
I listen to songs
We played when we were almost young
Young women look so pretty
Older women look so pretty
Old women look as old as they are
I cannot whistle
I cannot ******
I cannot stand and ***
I cannot sing
The songs of my youth
Which have become the anthems of my old age
But, I can think
I can stand on one leg,
I can eat from a spoon
I can read words
I can write them too
I am a boy of 70
That boy
Who has no idea

I want to go back
I want to hold you in my arms
I want to hug you into my body
I want to kiss you on the hips
I want to whisper in your ear
I want to feel the curve of your back
I want to touch your eyelids
I wan to kiss your neck
I want to hold your breast in my hand
I want to stroke the inside of your elbow
I want to tickle the inside of your knee
I want to love you like I used to
I’m fed up with now
I want then
Not now and then
But always

"When shall we stop looking at women?"
Asked my friend.
As another came into view,
I hoped
That we had not stared
Too much, too long, too anything.
Educated, sincere, honest,
No-one should vilify his roving eye.
Later, as we sat eating,
The beauty parade continued;
We were polite, gracious, complimentary.
I walked through the tables,
The thin waitress caught my eye - the other one -
I returned her smile.
We left for home, my friend and I
To take to our beds,
Each of us alone,
Without enjoying the touch of another's flesh
Words of innocence,
A song of joy.
We had come into the world with nothing,
Only to lose everything.
"The day we die" I replied.

A pipe stands
In the corner of a small courtyard
Bounded by a low wall
It overlooks a lawn
Which runs down to a pond
Filled with sticky lumps of frog spawn
Newts dart out from under leaves
And with slithery darts of their tongues
They catch and swallow their prey

The pond is cradled by a path
Which leads up to a thicket of oak trees
The fruit of which crumbles and crunches
Under our boots as we skip and jump
To the swings,
It is dusk now and with whoops of laughter
We run through the gate
Just before it is locked shut by the park keeper
Who smiles and says goodnight
Boiled eggs under felt cosys
Await with toasted, buttered soldiers
We chuckle at The Clitheroe Kid,
Oak leaves and grass stick to the bath
As the water gurgles away.
One by one each of us stands
On the wooden box next to the sink
Swaddled with warm towels
As we brush our teeth
I pull on my pyjamas
A song plays in my head
‘What do you want if you don’t want money?’
The sheets are cold but the heavy blankets bring warmth
And a sense of safety as the music in my head
Lulls me to sleep
“What do you want….
…if you don’t want dough?”

I wake in the night
My legs are stiff with age
I turn in my bed
And I remember
A tear drops on to my pillow
My body sinks as again sleep overtakes me
The dream is over now
But the song continues
“Wish you wanted my love baby…..”

In the morning,
I have forgotten that I was….
That I was……….where was it, now?
No, it’s gone.
Never mind,
One day, I may go there again

We Didn’t

I sensed that you would have if you could have but you didn’t.
I felt that I could have if you did but you didn’t.
I looked away as I spoke but you didn’t.
You brushed your hair from your face but I couldn’t.
You might have if I’d asked but I daren’t.
I liked how I ate as best I could have but you didn’t.
And, as you ate, I said what I said but shouldn’t.
You touched me twice as I did but I didn’t.
As you left I wanted you to stay but you didn’t.
I wanted to hug you but you kissed me twice so I couldn’t.
I felt that you might have if you’d stayed but you didn’t.
So – we could have and maybe we should have but we didn’t

Wow,
Just streaming
Through these old, old chinks
In the wall,
Like some forgotten sun,
Black and blue outside,
On the edge, in.
Your eyes slipping,
My eyes cornered,
Trying to flow freely,
Taking threads, for now,
From yesterday,
Swimming in a pool of time and words,
Don’t say it,
Don’t day it,
Don’t say ‘I love you’.
Don’t say it
And maybe I will too,
Sitting in the middle of
Nowhere,
Waiting for a ride,
On some passing theme,
To be carried a little further away,
Painting,
Painting all earth blue,
Filtering over closed eyes,
Looking far ahead.

I really don’t know where I am,
It is hard to believe
There is not a solid thought in my head,
Every one of them crumbles away,
A million and one possibilities,
All as potentially real as the other,
Although,
There is one that I know -
That you are beautiful and,
If you love me,
It will all be ok.

I met this guy,
I had seen him before.
He was tall, quite slim,
And he smiled; he smiled at the door.

He showed me his house,
The tiles on the floor,
I wanted to ***,
And he smiled at the door.

He told me to stand
He liked what he saw
Well, he said he was pleased
As he smiled at the floor.

He photographed me
He asked me for more,
I took off my shirt
And he smiled - what for?

I said I must go,
I thought he was bored.
But he held my hand tight
And he smiled like before

By the time I got home,
It was almost past four,
As I turned the key,
I smiled; I smiled at the door.

I called you loud, the other night
The other night I called you loud
I did not mean brash or mouthy
I was referring to the volume
But
Thinking back
I realise that you were in a rage
The loudness of your voice
Was needed to bring down
The walls that surround you
Like the trumpets at Jericho
It is your way of breaking out
Into the next phase of your life
From the prison in which you live
Of which I am a brick in the wall
Well, good luck to you and God speed
You have the voice to do it
I did it and, for a while, I was free
But then the posse was formed
To bring me back home
So run my darling
Shout all you like
Make art which will shock and surprise
And make people open their eyes

A dance of delight
Into the darkness of yesterday
A quick step off the edge of the world
All in the name of the games we play.

But I caught the bottle as it fell
And I shall catch this one too.
I am ready for the fight
As I look into the powder blue, the powder blue.

I shall guide you along the path,
Away from the murk and shadow into the light.
There is hope and joy and laughter
In the dance of delight

Hi
Hi
Hello
How did you sleep?
Ok
Badly
The only thing you done was yesterday
How did you sleep?
Alright
Not very well
I was thinking….
Mm?
Not interested
That……
Mm?!
Still not interested
Never mind
I want to say it
What?
Spit it out
Spit it out so I can wipe it up and throw it away
How much I love you
Please don’t sigh and say you love me too
Sigh - I love you
Too?
Don’t sigh again.
What?
Yes - too - sigh
You should see someone
And talk to them not me
Like that woman I saw before?
Counsellor, date, *******?
Yes maybe
Losing interest again
Give someone a ring
Who?
A friend, sister, brother
I don’t know
A friend, sister, brother
Please don’t cry
I’m not crying by the way
I’ve got something in my eye
It’s called a tear
Good.

Empty,
Full of hope,
Not yet born.
A second heart beats waiting to say hello
You dread saying goodbye.
Why did it have to happen?
She cried.
I lay down beside her on her bed
But she did not want me there.
She could not fathom
The reason for death.
There is no reason
Other than to help us love life more than we do.
What do you think?
Blue or pink?
Alive or Dead?
Living within you,
You will never lose this time
This dangerous gift of love,
This precarious gift of life,
Breathe in,
Breathe out,
Hope. Love.
Again,
In, out,
In out.
In.
Out.

In


Out




in




out…..

Empty,
Full of hope,
Not yet born.
A second heart beats waiting to say hello
You dread saying goodbye.
Why did it have to happen?
She cried.
I lay down beside her on her bed
But she did not want me there.
She could not fathom
The reason for death.
There is no reason
Other than to help us love life more than we do.
What do you think?
Blue or pink?
Alive or Dead?
Living within you,
You will never lose this time
This dangerous gift of love,
This precarious gift of life,
Breathe in,
Breathe out,
Hope. Love.
Again,
In, out,
In out.
In.
Out.

In


Out




in




out…..

l thought of you just now
my mind wandered in and out of the long grass
through bushes
along a path
through a gate and on to an empty beach
and there you were
sitting cross legged
before the sunset
there was a space
on the towel next to you
l sat  there
and together we watched the sun go down
once it had disappeared
l turned to speak to you
but you had gone
like a sunset

What is it that you do now
That you have never done before?
What is it that I did not do before
That I do now?

What do you think now
That you never thought before?
What did I think before
That I give no thought to now?

What do you feel now
That you had no feeling for before?
What did I feel before
That I have no feeling for now?

I love you now
I loved you before

I think of you now
I thought of you before

I feel for you now
I felt for you before

But you are not here
You are there

And I am not there
I am here

There is a small cupboard beside my bed
It is called William.
That was a joke
It s called a bedside cabinet.
It has a brass handle on the drawer
The drawer is central to this poem
Because of what it contains
Without its contents it would merely be a drawer
Now you want to know what the drawer contains don’t you?
No?
Well I shall tell you anyway
Inside the drawer is a metal nail, some toothpicks, some pills
A pair of ear plugs and a small piece of toilet tissue
Or lavatory paper as my mother would prefer to call it.
The paper or tissue doesn’t mind what you call it – it is simply a tissue
It has no mind no feelings
Let‘s not waste our time speculating about the offence caused to a piece of tissue,
Alright paper  
But going back to my point about the contents of the drawer being central to this poem
Why is that so?
I could make it easy for you but why not work it out yourself?
Think about it
A metal nail.
Toothpicks
Pills
Ear plugs
Toilet tissue
Alright, mum
Lavatory paper.
What do these tell you?
ABSOLUTE **** ALL

Put away those thoughts,
Those thoughts of what could be,
Lock them in a cupboard,
Throw away the key.

This is as much a command to me
As it is a polite request to you.
Let us rewind the tape;
Let us start anew.

I regret the words I wrote,
Seduction is a crime,
It fractures beating hearts;
It would break yours and mine.

Let us draw back,
Not to hearts of stone
But to the purity of art,
Not skin and bone.

And when we meet again,
As we shall surely do,
You will smile at me
And I shall smile at you.

You
I saw
You.
I did
I saw you
Saw you give,
To me
To others
To sisters
To brothers
I saw kin
I saw slim
I saw mild,
So fast
It was wild
How did I see
So much
So free?
What is it
To me
To you
To him
To them?
Begin
Again
I saw you
What you do
What is it for
What I saw?
What did I see?
Me,
I saw
Me.

Before the sun had risen
This morning
I turned in my bed
And hooked my little finger
Through the wires attached to my ipod shuffle
Plugged in the ear phones
And pressed play
But there was no sound
The battery had lost its charge
I didn’t get up
I wanted music
So I lay back and closed my eyes
And thought of you
The music you make
The clash of cymbals when you are angry
The sweet sound of the flute when
You have no cares,
The deep sonorous bellow of the trombone when you are serious
The plucking of strings when you are contrary
The lush harmony of the string section when you declare you allegiance
The stark blast of the trumpet when you force me to think
The doleful melancholy of the cello
The sad wail of an electric guitar
And l thought
Yeah
You are an orchestral score of the movie of your life
I thought of all this
Before the sun had risen