Water, water, bridges everywhere.
In the old town, close
to the pantomime sentries and cannons,
at the scaffolding-clad royal palace,
a museum of high ideals, the Nobel prize.
Einstein, Mandela, Solzhenitsyn, Mother Teresa.
Nearby a hall of fame dedicated
to a band that made the world smile.
Benny and Frida, Bjorn and Agnetha,
wearing their lurid outfits
Monday 18th August 2014 2:06 pm
I hope these help to keep you safe.
Are you lonely at the front?
You have your pals, along the trenches.
And we have ours, inside the factory.
The laughs we have, us girls.
I didn’t mean, that kind of lonely.
That’s why I’m slipping my note
inside this box of ammo,
which, I hope, protects you.
It’s funny. Though we’ve never met
and maybe never will, I ...
Tuesday 8th April 2014 6:02 pm
Tags: First world war
You mourn old photographs:
‘I was pretty then, and I never knew it.’
I’ve just filled an album
with our last pieces of paper
before digital took over:
It includes my mother’s 80th birthday
(she just missed out on 90).
A fabulous, tearful, joyous Sikh wedding,
dancing to the bhangra boy’s beat,
the marriage lasting little more
than a year. That holiday ...
Monday 27th January 2014 9:22 am
By Frank Jaye
You’ll get no Valentine from me; I’m not the type,
Pallid daffodils prematurely delivered – all that transatlantic hype.
I am not easy with love, be it concept, verb or noun,
My sentiments are more mundane and wear a plainer crown,
Embellished with affection, encouragement, respect not least,
You moderate my temper, rising still like yeast.
Saturday 4th January 2014 1:37 pm
Tags: Valentine poem