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  May 8 Tommy Randell
My heels had felt
harsh gravity
of the steep downhill...

My toes suffered,
the vicious bite
of the incline.

My soles had tasted
the everlasting bland
offered by the flat of the earth.

I know the distance.

Alas I run unequipped,
with a horse’s breath.
Tommy Randell Apr 24

To all intents & purposes She
Watches herself, looking back.
Double-gazing through
Her reflections to
Out there beyond the sill,
Where *** plants & Clematis riot.

Counting out the Quarantine
By crossing off the Saturdays.

While, on the Radio,
An English Whodunit,
Spooky with Silences,
Gets added sound FX from
The refrigerator groaning,
The Cold Tap's dripping echo.

It's a bigger question now
Whether Tuesdays ever had a purpose?

Thursday's Theatre of the Absurd
Is an accidental performance of
One Banana in the fruit bowl,
Looking for all the world
Like it might ring
So She can answer it.

The Kitchen Sill continues as a perfect setting
For Her Life, whether anyone is watching or not.


The genius of a single
Wooden Spoon
Standing tall in an
Earthenware ***

In a kitchen of
Otherwise wall to wall
Steel and plastic
Is that,

In the hands of a
Dedicated Professional,
It becomes
The Flower
She knew He
Always meant to give.


It's fun to imagine
How Windowsills
Can become
A Stage for The World,

How what goes on
Out there
Comes onto this
Tiled Margin to play out
Its many dramas.

Just today, for example,
She witnessed
One Lone Pine Cone
Give a Soliloquy,

Highlighting the ignominy
Of its glorious
Fibonacci Spirals
Tossed into a Bowl
Of Shells & Beach Detritus
Horse Chestnuts & Feathers,

And a Rose,
Made of curled Orange Peel,
Drying nicely and
Taking all the encores.


There are little ***** of Coral
From an Island in the Aegean,
There are similar
***** of Sea Grass
From somewhere else.

There's a Stained Glass
English Beach Hut
She looks upon with pleasure,
On this Windowsill that serves
As Her Reminiscence Shelf.

Little Treasures sitting there
As a reminder of
Holiday Travels,
Stuff She brought back
With a Purpose
Meant to trigger Happy Times.

But, as She stands there
Doing dishes,
Awaiting Lock Down being lifted,
She can't help but
Look Beyond...
Shedding tears from tired eyes.

[To Be Continued...]

Tommy Randell 2021/02/14 - 2021/04/23
Is Love your idea of perfect happiness?
Do you deplore yourself more, or others?
Is it the trite phrases you use most you despise
Or your own hesitant silence that bothers?

Do questions like this make you crazy?
Tickbox Yes, tickbox No, tick Maybe.

Is your arrogance your greatest extravagance?
Or that lying has become your talent?
Do you like most what you like in a Man
Or is your liking for Women just balance?

Do questions like this upset you lately?
Tickbox Often, tickbox Never, tick Maybe.

Which living person do you most admire?
Who are your favourite dead artists & authors?
Is your current state of Mind like Ice or Fire
Or are your Thoughts just shadows & monsters?

Do you think of failure Not At All or Greatly?
Tickbox Both, tickbox Neither, tick Maybe.

Lastly, what is your greatest regret?
Which inanimate object would you most like to be?
What do you prefer Focaccia or Baguette?
Is it Lunch not dinner, Sauce not Gravy?

Can we access freely your microphone & screen?
Tickbox Absolutely, tick Indiscriminately, tick Willfully.

This is not a Test, you are not being defined -
We seek, only to know and not to classify.
The Data is non-personal, no outcome specified,
It will help us to help you in these more trying times.

We want to subscribe you to being Spied Upon daily -
Tickbox Yes, tickbox Of Course, tick You-can-tick-FOR-me...

Tommy Randell  -  01st April 2021
The impetus & inspiration for this was the so called PROUST Questionnaire (qv), though the Poem takes a different spin...

No-one knows for sure where the English Victorian Parlour game originated or to whom we owe it's invention but these days such lists of Questions are everywhere online and in the real World - Vanity Fair, Inside The Actors Studio, &c.
Tommy Randell Mar 25
I'm a man who has never quite looked after himself.
I have gaps in me teeth & random good health,
But I'm a man at peace with ALL his pieces,
The bits that comply AND the bits with caprices.

Although some days getting old IS a bit of a puzzle.
Which leg for example is joined to which muscle?
Or which arm goes first putting my coat on?
And, how only 3 Buttons can be gotten so wrong?

Is it just me or are people talking faster?
n'When did me tripping-up become such a disaster?
Why are coins so slippery and keys so awkward?
Why aren't memories just there and I have to think backwards?

Conversation has gaps while I find the right word.
My specs covered in fingerprints make everything blurred.
Walking to the Shops finds me sat in the Park
Getting my breath back, like some O.A.P. basking Shark.

In the scheme of things not a lot bothers me greatly,
But, y'know, something WILL drop off and I haven't looked lately.
Yes, when I add it all up, it is a bit of an equation,
Still, just one more decent poem is cause for celebration.

Tommy Randell. -  25th March 2021
O.A.P. is British parlance for Old Aged Pensioner.
Often used affectionately, often not.
Tommy Randell Mar 20
Most urgent, it seems to me
Is to live by the simple questions
In the face of difficult facts -
That Life is an Absolute
Never just an Act.

To be seen from afar
One has to be obvious,
To pass unnoticed
One has to be in the herd -
Even so, from afar a shout for help
Is just one leaf in a forest, falling.

I think of Words as I read them,
Not just their meaning but their sound -
Over time words are seeds
For furrowed minds. You never know
Which ones have it in them
To become a pasture.

My best work are little plantings.
Poems of hardy stock
That can stand the drought
Of not being read by nourishing eyes.
How does your garden grow?

Tommy Randell - 20th March 2021
Spring. In Lockdown.
Tommy Randell Mar 12
(Dylan & Cohen, talking together in a dream - )

"You think to lead? Lenny, you should know
There is an Art in it - to being noticed
But not being seen. To glance away
At the right moment with nothing to say
And be just the passer-by, the no-one, that day."

"The Poets of the Future are not born yet."
Cohen says, "In these locked down Days,
Prophets, like Yeats & Lorca, as always hold no sway
But lie un-sung in the furloughs!
We 2 are such Heroes, but which of us is which?"

"You don't understand, and I've followed You
From the moment I heard Marianne.
I'm sure you knew. I'm sure you were aware.
You've seen me look away, trying to be Not There,
Hearing but not Listening - Being there Not-Being.

"Success and Failure they are but Creeds
In my calculus of Thoughts and deeds.
The Art of Following is to Be,
To be the Known the Unknown needs -
Hallelujahs, Leonard will never get you Free."

In my dream, Cohen gave a gentle hinting smile
And, a piece more of the Puzzle -
"Watch the sidewalk, Friend," he advised.
"Seek out both, the Truth & the Lies.
Practice your Art, but don't take it Personal."

Tommy Randell - 12th March 2021.
Literally, a dream I had ... I left out Paul MacCartney, it got too complicated/
Tommy Randell Mar 12
Sometimes reading my pages over
I dream I live inside a Poem.
Where my skin has memories, and
My honesty is the framework of bones.

Sometimes my words become candles
Scenting every room with their rhymes -
Music ripples through alphabetical shadows
Walls are a graffiti of favourite lines.

Friends face-time to comfort me,
Some send messages of their love.
Every full stop and pause is a fingerprint,
Actually speaking out loud is an event.

Every room of me is a verse metaphor
Each thought though unfinished endures
Walking from door to door searching
The way out is the way in I'm sure.

Tommy Randell - 11th March 2021.
Poetry is a private escape made Public
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