Monthly Archives: August 2016

film titles

it is number 13
a thunder ball
in my mind.

who is james bond
anyway,
he is ficticious.

elephant is not.

we got up too early,

went back to bed.

with a cup of tea.

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betws pie

sometimes the boy plays on his own, in water.

sometimes it can’t be helped.

the pies are warm,and full of the tenderest

meats and gravy. which helps the day when

the belling is broke.

the bags came greasy, left in the litter bin

nearby.

nearby, the boy stopped playing

and we wondered if the water was cold.

wednesday. betws.

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the parrog

the bank cuts by,

the path next the
sea.

air is clean here,
sailors are honest
about the weather.

it is a good idea

to visit each year.

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were we dreaming?

as i passed i saw the room, coal on your table,

spread neatly. wondering i glanced around,

saw the snowy underwear on hangers,

the chandeliers.

it all showed pride and i know

you have seen it too. raddled

face in mirrors, knowing that we

are all much the same, without

meetings and disagreements.

so,

must we write about it before we forget,

before people come and disagree?

they have small waists and a national costume.

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missing

there have been planes about, someone is missing.

the old room needed cleaning and through the cat

slide neatly framed flew two hercules, heavy bird

like.

it is a cleaner window now, rain hits the glass,

noise is monumental.

someone is missing.

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there is a hint

of something in the air, can you feel it?

the cat has drank the milk again, while

we were busy yesterday.

much to be done, much to be read

and quantified.

and

while all this is going on we

see the news and

still find nougat wrappers

on the floor.

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#others

what does this mean, about a change of bed,

clothes. everyone does it, not a big chore.

though.

when they do not have a home

a bed. think on it. think on a

broken body, broken mind.

heart.

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#refuge

flight. imagine it white with feathers,

bird’s wings.

it is an old room and as i change the bed

i think of you.

i regret the dust and crooked floor with

fondness, then as i lay the clean sheet

not yet tucked, imagine you laying your

broken body.

think on this.

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the village

it seem there is a gardener in that village,

that will not prune, will cut every shrub

the same.

shape.

if a walk takes you slowly round.

the village.

you may see every place

he works.

someone said you need

a day out to find some

inspiration.

for verse.

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oh absalom

oh absalom, my son, my son.

cry out, travel miles to

worship, purify.

pray for him, the note

says all is disorder.

travel miles to tell those who

cannot hear, nor listen.

yet. if you cannot believe all

that is told, find a place your

own.

never mind the ancestors, absalom

my son.

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