Poetry Blogs (lawn)

I remember him now and then

When I’m feeling brave enough to recall my childhood

Mr. Strathclyde

He was a welcome break from the ceaseless banality of the suburbs

I’d see him every Saturday morning on my way to work

Damp panatela clamped between his gums

Stained string vest and pyjama bottoms

Smirking like he’d just told a racist joke that no one had heard

‘Morning sport’ h...

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You only really win, having lost.

On the front lawn, all is identical until you notice it.

Every other blade you see its 50 shades greener than your own.

Those shades depend on light. Those blades gleam off light refracted.

Interesting...
Who has the light?

Every day you look, you stare, you glare

with a drink, with a book, with a chair, with a care.

Your care, carelessly, mi...

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