A newspaper and a Widow

The old widow across the hall
has been coughing loudly during the night
I thought of knocking on her door.
Decided against because of the virus she might have.
Well, she is not coughing now.
I have read the guardian newspaper a confessed
paper for “the educated middle-class” I should not
read it as I´m not their class of people nor do I wish
to become one. I used to write comments to there
but was barred, so I use Twitter instead
but it has some good writers, so it is worth reading.
There are times when the paper is left-leaning,
but it easily panics and hurries back to safe middle ground.
I´m worried about the lady across the hall, her husband
had been a high-ranking officer in the army, she is
too quiet, perhaps she is dead, I better speak to the porter.

The Imitators

He has worked in the garden of poetry
Forty years gone.
The soil is meagre and the plants are eaten
By boars, they applaud him with grunts.

To find the roots and transplant them on a page
Or in the garden of literature, is not easy.
The gardener is famed for his genius or a charlatan
Of rose bushes.

Truth rears its ugly head, there are doubters
Who will not be silent, he knows when his plant’s
Has been purloined.
Better than not be read at all.

The beginning
Adam sat on a bough of a tree waited for his friend
The gorilla, Eva, sat in a cave tried to make a skirt of palm leaves.
The cave was warm; a burning bush had taught them how to make fire.
They lived on fruit mostly, when not stealing eggs from nests
Eggs that were about to be hatch were the best
And they had chicken and thus became meat-eaters.
Adam´s friend, the gorilla, when they played card made out of green leaves
The animal was sentinel without a moral compass.
The gorillas had thick fur which, made them look dressed,
and Eva liked to cover exposed parts. Adam didn´t get it.
He should sit with her and listen to her problem, a pity she
Used to say, God had made men so stupid

Melancholy

This is a blue day it is like having a ring
of steel pressing against my head.
Nothing matters there is no outlet and I want to go home,
anywhere, to get away from myself.
I sit on the terrace look at the view it is ******* boring
****** sea like I shouldn’t have seen it before
after thirty years as a mariner.
This morning I saw athletic people running along the promenade
I sat in my car looked at my considerable stomach,
so that is what has become of me a fat old man sinking into
the woollen atmosphere of self-loathing the hatred against
the world only a loser feels.
Sexless, useless old age has made me a ****** whatever this
means I might have got the wrong spelling of the word and
my own poetry is not uplifting, too harmful to be read by anyone
who isn't contemplating suicide?
**** it all I will write no more, go sit in a bar till they throw me out.

In Ceuta

A Senegalese sat on a stone near the sea
he had tried to get to Spain but didn´t make it.
A nurse spoke to him hugged him.
God smiled down to both of them,
this moment of tenderness.
Not so the monster calling itself the social media
they purred scorn on them.
Not only was he black and she white,
racism is alive, he was also a refugee who had sought a better life
which millions of Europeans had done when persecuted?
when seeking work in the USA
and freedom from oppression.
Europe has become a haven for haters intolerant and obscene
a place where right-winged populism will bring us down the path
to the stone age of ******

Banned man

So, it finally happened, of course, Trump gets the blame
but I think this, not the whole story.
For years the workers have seen their wage packet shrinking
and their rights being ignored, no health insurance
nor trade union to look after their interest
As the common man gets poorer, the wealthy get richer
they live with the fear of needing surgery or losing the job.
The two ills go together if a sick person stay away from work
too long he gets fired anyway.
The people revolted Trump fanned the flame that already
was lit.
And it gets worse the big tech firms have banned the president
of the united states and that is an outrage that belongs
to a dictatorship, it has a sinister implication that doesn’t bode well
for us civilian when only what suits the big tech get a hearing
this includes anyone of us at any time.

What's going on

Watching TV flicking from channel to channel is surreal,
one moment a casket is lowered into
a perfectly dug grave, umbrellas go up as fine rain falls
The next moment is about men riding horses
that have no idea what is going, the riders have been
on their mounts for days and must be stinking.
The next is about some old detective who is solving
crimes that are surprisingly easy to unravel.
Back at the graveside after false tears have been shed
all hell breaks loose who is getting his priceless
album of rare stamps and more murders are committed.
In the meantime, the riders are having a bath in a river
fully clothed in leather and armour. The horses are just staying there looking beautiful and dumb.
I switch off the telly and drink a glass of beer.

The apartment
  

No, I don't miss my old home the one I rebuilt
from a stable till a house, although its soul never stopped
being a stable a place for those who have no voice.
Thick walls made by stone from the small land windows
animals do not need light.
But walls talk I still hear their murmur and the hoof of
the mule scraping on the floor as it was dreaming of still
ploughing the field and in pen, the pigs slept unaware
that in the morning one of them would be slaughtered.
I still hear it squeals when the truth dawned.
So much history and no one will ever know what I have
Seen and heard.

Oddity of ***

The kitchen was cold
Switched on the gas making coffee
It warmed my midriff
And I thought of it, only briefly
Breakfast more important
Never thought I should think that
But there we are.
I knew of a woman who only wanted me
To look at her ***** and no touching.
I did but thought of other things
how many millions of stars are the in heaven?
has anyone counted them?
Suddenly she wriggled like a worm in damp soil
*** over.
she covered her body in a sheet
And she fell asleep.
I took the bus home.

Would-be writer

I hate living in a rented room
Meeting people in the hall
Waiting till the hall is empty
Hurry out sighing.
Walking for miles to find
An empty bar, where no one
Knows your secret that you are a drunk.
Paper and pen I wanted to write
A great novel.
Strong ***** blurred words
Walking home
Hoping the hall would be empty.

old times and knew times

  I was thinking about how I live now in a big apartment
with four bedrooms and their bathroom, and I study for me.
As a child, my mother and two other siblings had two
rooms and half a kitchen; the other half belonged to a woman
who had one room and two children.
She often had male visitors, and the children had to sit in the hall, and I told them stories, when my father and I crossed the Sahara on camelback, not that I knew my father he was always absent.
We had no bathroom, but there was a toilet in the basement
it had rats coming up from the bowl, one had to flush several times
before sitting down hoping the best. Peeing was done in
the kitchen sink.
We were poor but didn´t know it as everybody was poor it was
the way it was, but we laughed a lot the slightest thing set us off,
and my brother was great joke teller, and we enjoyed ourself hugely.
Living in a big apartment, I ask myself what happened to mirth
I know, I think, we just got old and our sense of humour,
think I have to go out and look for it-

One Morning


Blue haze is the bay of Cascais
and it is summer were flowers is a good business
now that there are so many deaths
thanks to the virus that will not go away.
Jane Goodall, says we have only ourselves to blame
we have  misused the nature and its laws too long
and now it is payback time.
As usual, it is blameless who suffer the most
as they are often old and sick.
I see two freighters at anchor I can see the cooks
preparing breakfast as the crew sleep.
They will wake up to the smell of coffee brewed
strong this morn,
the cook on one of the ships stands on deck coffee
mug in hand smoking a cigarette enjoying the silence
which is warm and wraps him in a sense of peace.
The older members of the tribulation are up and about
while the younger ones sleep as long as they can,
Blessed are the ones who sleep.
The building where I live is an island drifting about
full of people who have no their world is coming to an end
but the still cling to life as it was
it is to so hard to adjust to a new epoch that holds
no promises of a future bright.

Buying a car

I have read and published some of my old poems
what I write these days is more about the everyday
Gone has the mermaid in the forest´s lake.
Sheep endlessly grazing and calling their shepherd
at the first darkening of the sky.
The sheep have lived in peace so long and fear
shadows dancing among olive trees.
The animals graze inside a fenced-in field for security
And for this, they have forsaken freedom.
I´m nonchalant, my dog too takes on the mien of indifference.
She has gone, but I keep her bones in a black bag
when driving around.
On roads covered by asphalt and decaying flowers on sidewalks.
Someday I will write a book of my deleted poems that are forever
circling in my mind.
Perhaps I gave away my best work to the cold stars.
Since you wonder about the title, yes, I bought the twenty-year-old car
It purrs like Walter´s cat.

The view from a parking lot
  
No seagull is flying high
in the bay today, no ships at the anchorage
waiting for the pilot.
It is a day of stillness under a grey sky that
holds no promises of a tomorrow.
The supermarket's parking place is looking
down at the cemetery in more than one way,
one is selling food, the other is storing death.
I see people walking among the gravestones
Some stones are significant others modest in the end
it doesn't mean a thing in time the dead will be
forgotten and a new supermarket built to sell
food in new variations and alluring packaging
wrapped pretentiously but is the same old thing.

Wrong  Day
  
This was a ******* day from the beginning
the multibanco swallowed up my card, and I had
to drive to another town where my bank is
To retrieve my card. On the way back I got lost
and it took me forever to get home.
We were going to a Norwegian club but the meeting
was annulled, it was a ****** little place anyway.
We went to eat at a restaurant, halfway through
my meal my wife got ill I had to drive her home,
she is a hypochondriac, and that is an illness too.
This has been a ******* day can anything else
go wrong? It did, there was a blackout, and it took
an hour to get electricity back.
I'm hungry but think my best option is going to bed.

lonely days
He came home early
Switched on the news
Which was read by a man
Who fell several times, over his own words
There was only one channel.
After the news, a lady played guitar
End of evening TV.
He took his bike out of the shed
And cycled to the nearest pub
There was only 3 of them in the town
And they closed at eleven.
Cycling home was difficult so
He pushed the bike uphill.
Since his wife had left the flat
It reeked on loneliness
He fell asleep on an old chair in the shed.

October manifesto

I came across a paper on it was written” October document.”
no date, nothing at all.
This prompted me to look in the mirror at the face looking back at me
an elderly man with sad eyes.
A man I didn´t know who carried my face or was it my face?
The inner me looked pretty different, more youthful, I thought.
In my old house, I had no mirrors except the one in the bathroom
that mirror was always steamed up; I preferred it that way.
A woman moved in, and suddenly I had many mirrors.
It is difficult to know oneself without illusion, it helps to have a friend to tell us
the truth as she/sees it.
But are they telling the truth they don´t know what you think?
October is a strange month, it can be mild, it knows what
is coming. Sleet and winter storm, with and yellow leaves, it accepts the fate,
check the roof and firewood and waits.

English Village

It was a beautiful spring morning.
Nothing I know of can be more harmonious
then an English village.
Sycamore trees dripped morning dew like honey
and rose bushes sparkled as ruby.
On an open field, a lone horse came to the fence
I stroked its flank and spoke softly.
It was morning moist and exuded a delightful aroma.
On the other side of the turf, another barrier opened
and a flock of sheep came out.
The horse trotted over I was forgotten.
Continued eastward towards the sun and memories.

A man upset

The world is getting thin-skinned
chief for a state department, a puffed-up one at that
was shouted at.
He cried and resigned.
Now he is suing the one that shouted at him, well
He will perhaps win the upper classes often do.
This proud man feels hurt and can’t sleep which
Is strange since he has sent many to their grave
Implementing policies that hurt many people.

He can dish it out, but can’t take being criticised
So, let him go with his big pension and tend the roses.

Robots at sea

the sun shines, it always shines, on the portholes
on the ships in the bay looking enticing.
To be a mariner is not a natural form of life and
should be run by robots can tie a ship to a port.
As it is an engineer can sit in a control room
and press the relevant buttons no need for an oiler
to walk around seeing if something has to be done
and cleaning the floor.
On long journeys by the young especially is not
healthy, too much time spent reading *******
and getting a wrong view of what *** is.
Visiting prostitutes thinking women are like this.
Come to think of it robots could be used as soldiers
and the interest in armies would lessen.

Ages
When I was young my youth lasted a long time.
When someone said next year, it sounded as it was forever.
I remember the long summers
but realize it is the sum of many summers.
Since in our estimation summer lasted long into autumn
and mild winter.
The real cold season lasted a month, and since
We didn´t sit still it didn´t feel so cold.
Now that I'm old the seasons whirl faster and faster rapid
I get dizzy and have to sit down or hold on to my cane.
the tremendous speed is accelerating towards doom and the hope
of another spring.

While we wait

  The terrace of our flat is a place for retired kings
  the sun shines humbly not burning my nose and
  the sea is calm as a full glass of water left
undisturbed in the kitchen during the dark hours,
outside in the streets, the pest is raging, closed
shops and full hospitals, death is aggravating,
caused by people refusing to wear masks or go to
parties and illegal revelries, the pest is demanding
payment, nothing is free if you are not prepared
to dance with death not dressed for the occasion.
In the interim, we sit inside and wait for the vaccine.

tired morning


This morning a song from a film
filtered through my mind “what was it all for Alfie.”
I had no choice but being born, played no part of the proceeding
but had to bear the brunt of the aftermath.
The emptiness of poverty, the view of the sunlight from an opposite wall
in a back yard.
The dread of the midnight flight, bare rooms, linoleum floor doomed to endless boredom, no expectation of a blue sky day.
We, children, played in the street a window broke, they, the boys, disappeared
so quickly I was left holding a ball that wasn't mine
the policeman was so tall, my denial was a tearful whisper my mother
had to pay, and she slapped my face. Yet there was a moment of happiness green grass and animals that I had to forego.
What is life for?
­

Mattress and roses
A great day in Cascais sunlit and moderately cold.
We are changing a mattress the new one was easy to handle
But the old was too heavy we need someone with
Arm muscles like Hercules and he was healthy.

I was thinking of getting a canary bird, let it fly around,
outside it would be killed by wild birds.

Resolved, the lair, angry disputes that were sealed with love.
Objectified as burrow were children didn’t enter.
Someone, homeless can sleep on it before it rains.
Eventually, the old mattress will end up in a landfilling-

Democracy installed
The ship was in dry dock
the captain and his crew ate at a canteen.
He and the officers had wine
The crew drank beer, bottles after bottles
loudly they told the officers what the thought
of the ship and her officers.
They had been let loose from the discipline
opposed upon them like children left alone
when the teacher had gone for a ***.
It ended in a fist fight table and chairs flying
in the air.
Next day the captain and his officers sat
sharing a big table with the team nothing to drink
for anyone, the captain was a wise man
the team loved him for that.

Elderliness

Closer and closer they came
old women with faces made of lava
and stinking volcanic mouths.
Bodies of soil after years of drought,
dead oasis simmered
between thin thighs and haloes
of brittle hair.
They slowly stomped during ancient dust
covered their bird claw feet.
I turned and fled through a thorny bush.
Stumbled into indifference time.
Fell into a muddy lake
and drowned in a cascade of ages.

Home from the cinema

We were going home from the movies
It began raining I had an umbrella and shielded
Her from most of the cloudburst, I got wet.

At her home, she said I had to take my suit off
I did but felt silly sitting on her sofa in my ******.

She came back from the bathroom wearing less than me,
We kissed and cuddled and ended up in her bedroom.

We made love after she fell asleep, I watched
Her serene face, she looked lovely.

I was tired too, but before falling asleep, I thought
I hope my suit will be dry in the morning

Am I a snob



Going for lunch at the downstairs restaurant
the staff was busy and had no time to greet us
the food we had ordered beforehand arrive an hour late
I had a glass of wine but only took one sip put the wine aside
my irritation was palpable, and I wouldn't say I like being ignored.
This happens when you visit a restaurant too often.
the food, when it served was good but complained about the wine
I was offered another glass but declined.
Made note not to go there for sometimes.
At the building's reception, the new porter didn´t bother to get up
he was dressed in a T-shirt and wore jeans continued to read his newspaper, his presence cheapened the building which has a splendid name.
I dislike rude people, the lack of manners I sometimes encounter.
Please and Thank you, are not swear words.
I read a bit fell asleep when waking up I thought never mind
they can go and *******.

Palm oil

when one writes about minorities
no one wants to know, the next page about knitting, please.
We do not like to read about losers
and our responsibility for their failure.
A tsunami came rolled over the landscape, changed it
and the language, unstoppable misery for the people
who lived there, but it brought us the automobile.
The Palestinians have lost most of their land and now
they are losing more, except their dignity.
We don´t want to know, the next page about knitting, please.
Let us read about the super-rich, their yachts
and Rolls Royce, we like to see the pictures of them
in magazines, their villas and life mode
we dislike the truth, and it demands us to sit up straight
and think about the world and the orangutan losing
their habitat to palm oil.

Spoken Poetry

I woman was reading some of my poems
They sounded like mine, but not sure
I thought they were too good, I have never
Regarded me on the top shelf of poetry
But occupying a crack between poetry and prose.
The voice made for poetry came from
Poetry hunter, I tried to thank her but she
Didn’t wanted comment.
Perhaps I was wrong
A wish to write as good
As the poems she read was wishful thinking.
From my part.
Nevertheless, I enjoyed her clear, impeccable voice.

Sunday and sermon


Sunday morning Tv is full of Brexit ad Trump
I switch off. The computer has cartoon time not much
Different from TV but funnier.
From the living room, the drone of a priest talk *******
Some ladies sing mournful songs.
Why this seriousness the message of hope should
Be joyful clapping in God's name.
A ritual that was set down a long time ago is still the same.
The congregations consist mainly of od the elderly and
Of them mostly women.
The few young ones look solemn to even when they steal
A glance at the wristwatch.
The message ends in gold and glory they are fancy-dressed
The men of God and like to show off.

Useless war
Red crosses on the graveyard near the battle,
bled, corpses of dead soldiers flew in the air
soldiers killed twice, for the enemy once is not enough.
A skeletal hand land near him, he shuddered but had
to advance over the field as ordered.
There was a lull, he sat leaning to a boulder wondered
what he was doing here in a war far from home in
a country, not his, he had been told he was fighting for
his country but didn't believe it anymore.
This was a political war fought influence and greed it
had nothing to do with defending his country but
he was stuck in a deadly quagmire.
When the artillery struck up again, he got up advanced
and stepped on a landmine.

The lucky ship

I sat on the terrace at the enchanting hour when the sun has gone westward
but it is not dark yet and saw a long sleek cargo ship in the bay.
A well-kept ship manned by professional seafarers who have s contract
and get to go home on vacation every three months.
The cook is often referred to as a catering officer, sits in his spacious cabin
reading a book by Hemingway.
He stops reading and rest the open book on page 48 and think of all those
who have never read the great writer and are only interested in his private life?
It is a pity he would be remembered for the wrong reasons.
The cook gets up takes a shower, since he has been up by six o´clock there
is no time to shower.
In the morning he has to set the dough to bake bread and there is breakfast
to be seen to, and the preparation for dinner at twelve.
It is dark now, the ship is well lit she looks like a princess of the sea,
but the crew have no fear she will bring them safely home.

The Inn
Many years ago an uncle of mine
told a story what happened at a small hotel
near the sanatorium, the guest had been visiting loved ones.
The evening meal consisted of meat cakes in gravy with
stewed cabbage an boiled potatoes, Norway is not
famed for French cuisine, but they ate well.
In the end, there was only one meat cake left
and the landlady urged the guests to eat all,
no one wanted to so she switched off the light.
For a moment a stunned silence, then a high pitched
scream alarmed she switched on the light
a man sat there with five forks stuck in his hands.
On reflection, the story has a tinge of sadism,
and I cannot vouchsafe if the story is true.

When you have to

On a coach from Lisbon to Porto
the loo was locked, for safety reasons
the driver had the key.
It takes a modest soul much courage to walk up  
get the key and return it.
I walked the Conesa walk three times.
People began noticing me and appeared friendly.
The driver took pity told me to leave the key in the door
he would pick it up after the journey.
With the key in place, it was surprising
who many who felt the need for a ***.

The final hour

He was as pale as a corpse floating in an icy Nordic sea.
Motionless in bed he opened up his eyes
don´t know if he knew it was me, but he stared at me for a long time
I became dragged into his death.
He closed his eyes.
No one could do anything for him, except holding his pale hands.
He entered into a coma, and the nurse says it could take some time.
There was no doctor in the room he would appear when the nurse called
him the patient had died, he listened with his stethoscope
nodded and left the room; his profession sees death as a personal failing.
At home, I had to tell my wife her brother was gone.
A relative came to organize the funeral like the size of the casket and
what mode of disposal she wanted, you need a cool head for this
and I couldn´t remember his name

no point waiting


The ugly head of the pestilence
has risen its head in New Zealand
so, go and buy a white sheet covering your body
go to the nearest cemetery and wait.
Whether children go to school or not are of little
and the white smoke from factories
a defiant scream on the oncoming.
Humanity has finally met its match in the destruction
what took us 200 hundred years
the pest can do in two a couple of weeks.
Throw away the face mask mingle with thee sweaty people
people on the dance floor.
Run naked through the town, roll in the sewers
it makes no difference we are doomed.
A pity about the dogs we leave behind they are too weak
surviving in the insane the jungle the world has become.

Wishing your well

I woke up early thinking it was New Year  day
and marvelled how mild it was.
The watch told me it was four o'clock and
the first of July, which is a festive day in the USA,
that is not as festive as wished this year.
Last New Year, we did not go out, the food is on
that day, usually third rate and overpriced, not
to mention the wine that is plunk
I'm not too fond of firework it makes me nervous and brings
memories of sitting in a basement while bombers
flew overhead looking for the airport.
On the way back they dropped the load, usually
over the sea, but accident happens.
I wish the USA well, and they have had some difficult
years, one hopes it will soon be over and
normality can sit in the White House again.

The ex-drinker

He had stopped drinking looked remarkable well
his wife was proud of him, less so his friends who never saw him in the bar.
When one of his friends met him in the street his manners were formal.
Promoted at work he bought a new car, his was wife was gratified and so was his family.
They found him hanged in the shed his calm had been a deep depression,
Why did this man who had everything to live for top himself?
Not easy to say, because no one had asked him but taken him for granted
that he was a happy man.
The role he played as a middle-class man in a suit was painful,
he liked drinking wine making him dream, dreams he wrote down.
When he began a sober life, his wife threw his dreams into the fire.

dreamy landscape

I followed a narrow track leading up
to the mountain that has a flat, earthy soil.

The dog refused to follow.

On top the sun was  hot had a dizzy spell I saw was a patent donkey
before I fainted.

Someone carried me to a stream with clear water
I drank and found a lump of sugar in my pocket

when I looked around, I saw no one, went to sleep
I used a soft stone as a pillow.

When rested, I walked down on the other side found
a nice bar telling what has happened.

No, no leave the little people alone
we need them more than ever.

They sing for us when nightfall and unafraid
we sleep well and live long.

When coming out of the bar, my dog was waiting
she found a track around the mountain

she led the way looked back to see if I was safe
I had been too long in the bar.

Now I could hear the murmur of their voices so blessed
that dog stop barking.

I slept all night and had no nightmare of a coming war
the scent of thyme seeped down into the valley.

The Govemouse


Govemouse is a seal shaped animal, friendly
and they were plentiful often used as Sunday steak
and a must at Christmas when their meat was
used to make sausages and meatballs.
A villager, who had spent many years in France
brought sheep, and a few donkeys to help
carrying the harvest of carrots and cabbage down
from villagers fields.
Wool and meat make a sheep.
The Govemouse, no longer needed migrating down
to the coast, the few that stayed became pets
for the children and cared for by elderly women.
A road up to the village was built and many tourists
thinking it was romantic, but the strange man who
had lived among them took his knapsack and left
for the coast, where he noticed a ship in the bay that
had been abandoned by its owner and the crew had
not been paid for the last year.
They had nothing to eat and since they were paperless
could not go ashore.
What saved them from starvation was the Govemouse
that was happy to be useful again.

The death of love


I knew of a couple
They were in love and happy
Saving money to buy a house.
She became pregnant and
Thought it was best to have an abortion
Without consulted her spouse she went and had one
And since a  woman’s body is her temple
She didn’t think of telling him.
When he knew he felt resentful he had hoped
They one day would have a  baby.
The umbrage gnawed inside of him he felt
Cheated, and their ******* had lost
It's intensity.
They grew apart and they parted, love had
found a backdoor and escaped the misery.
I think when two people live together
The consequences must be shared by both.

banned

So, it happened again
I called a prancing woman dancing  
Happy that Joe Biden won the election,
“a silly ****.”
I'm glad Trump is going, but I fear.
The new president has unfinished “democracy.”
Like Syria, Iran to bomb into submission.
His for of “American Democracy” leads him.
On the warpath.
We are so happy that Trump lost although
Seventy million voted for him.
There are too many of them, and they are not idiots,
Well, not all of them.
It is about collar workers who have no union to protect
From arbitrary dismissal, it is about sick pay and
And a proper pension, Joe Biden will do nothing.
He is a man for the big pharma and other corporation.
The USA have a racism problem that will be unsolved.
Until the mighty country can learn it has to change,
And Joe Biden is not the man to fix this problem.
Hence my irritation to jubilant ***** who have not
read a newspaper for years.

spring

This is a beautiful day,
the sea-breeze is softly embracing me
and I think of a bush that grows by the wayside into my village
only angels can spin such a bush for us to enjoy a day like this.
The finely spun bush stays for a few days but take off a nightfall
not to be seen again before next spring.
The rose bushes are hanging over the fence in a symphony
for the eye and aroma.
Yes, spring is here, a time when everything is eternal before
the cruel burns the landscape yellow and dry,
and we dream of the sea.

His first love

No, it was not a dream there was a war going on
of which he understood little only that the German soldiers
that was camped nearby gave him chocolate.
He had met a little girl and was in love they sat under
a wooden bridge, the water trickled when he asked her to marry him.
She said no and he bit her arm.
She cried and ran home to her mother.
He was told not to be so aggressive, the little girl´s new boyfriend
was a farm boy his contempt was absolute.
The war was coming to an end the German army surrendered and was marched to the railway station, he waved they had been
good friends, was told not to he waved anyway his streak of protest.
Enemy and friend, it is difficult to know when you are four years old.

An island afar

In Tasmania, the sheep were full of sot
a land where white farmers had killed off the Tasmanian tiger.
The sheep’s only enemy was the man.
There were a fire people sought refuge in the water
and sheep left to find their food wherever there was a green spot.
I was in Hobart once, l it must be classed as the most boring city in the world.
people here were eating fish and chips fried in sheep fat
This place of bungalows, secure in their little life in a cocoon of the trite,
do not improve on their culinary skills

Sunglasses

We parked around the corner from the ink shop
I wore sunglasses, they are no good for seeing details
didn´t see the shop.
I walked and walked till I could not walk more
no shop, I had to walk back whence I came.
Mild panic set in, am I so old I need a label so people
people can take me home?
I rang my wife, “I sit in the car near the ink shop and can see you
sitting on the shop´s wall.
Then I remembered.
“What took you so long,” she asked?
I witnessed a collision between a horse and a mule, the horse
broke a leg and a police officer had to put it down.
-----long pause. “you got lost!”
With all the contempt I could muster I stayed silent.

What is culture

Watching “france24” one would think culture was invented in Paris.
Well, it wasn’t
The Parisians are rude and live on onion soup.
The reason Paris became famous as an art place
Were cheap rent and poor painters and writers flocked there
Well, it is not cheap anymore.
Culture is to show respect for other nations and language
Of which the French sadly lacks.
Anyone who has taken the underground in Paris in the morning
Can testify to this.

In afternoon glow

I ought to take an interest in death
but I don´t find it a stimulating subject
it has to do with acceptance.
This is comforting since I’m not religious
but has a strong spiritual streak.
I believe in the mystic.
What we fail to understand in normal life can be understood by
a second sight.
I can see the near future
based on experience.
I believe in the existence of ghost
they are people who have not accepted they are dead
and are, generally speaking, unhappy.
Since the devil does not occur, he doesn’t care
about sad ghosts.
I have seen my dead dog on several occasions she lives in my mind
and appears happy, especially when it rains and I can´t leave the house.
Here I manly laugh, look at my wristwatch
my god, it is nearly eight o´clock
time for a glass of red wine.

look-alike

my look-alike
was a book-keeper
I was one too
But got bored,
Joined the navy
I have not seen my look-alike
For forty years.
There is a mirror
In the hall
Tell me of times gone.
He has sent me a thousand email
But it feels like
I have sent them myself.
I want to be free of him
He occupies
Too much space in my head
But, the chain isis unbroken
It has roots stretching
Across the globe.
Finally, we will
cross the river together.