REMEMBER

Each day I see your proud

stare from the carved frame

above the stairs

you wear the ostentatious

plumed hat of

the Italian Bersaglieri

and although it

was only national service

you had your share

of war later

an enemy alien

interned in the country

where you chose to settle.

...

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HIDING IN SHADOWS

When I don’t call

It doesn’t mean

That you’re not there

In my thoughts

When I don’t write

It doesn’t mean

I have no words

In my heart

When I don’t answer

It doesn’t mean

You have no place

In my soul

When I keep silent

It doesn’t mean

I have nothing

To impart

When I don’t pra...

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YOGA NIDA

(Sleep Yoga)

Lay me down flat

Yoga Nida

Let the tension

Flow slowly out

Here on the floor

Yoga Nida

Let me be still

Peaceful and warm

Sinking, sleeping

Yoga Nida

Velvet blackness

Surrounding me

The guru’s words

Yoga Nida

I drift away

My pain is gone

Lay me down here

Yoga Nid...

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FIRST CUT

The first cut is brutal

always deep with cold

blade tearing into timber

opening a pathway

for subtler strokes

slicing with sharpness,

carving strongly,

the base for intricate designs

on blocks gripped tightly

in the jaws of steel vices

The last cut is gentler

a loving after thought

adding a signature

to shaped and sha...

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SEPTEMBER

September arrived quietly

With the morning train

Catching us unawares

Still tanned from summer

Smoking in the goods yard

Discussing holidays

Reading of redundancies

A radio humming news

Of road accidents

And unexplained murders

In distant countries

Celebrity indiscretions

Distracting our attention

From gathering cloud...

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Beauty yet resides in redbrick

Surrounded by railings

Charm in coloured tiles

A touch of stained glass

Roofs that sag still uplift

Spirits made melancholy

By the grimness of concrete

Rusting window frames

Though difficult to open

Allow freshness to enter

Not so in the stale chambers

Of breeze block and plastic

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EDGE OF TOWN

Living on the edge of town

We never smell the petrol fumes

Or the farmer’s muck spreader

No sound of breaking beer glasses

No bleating of new born lambs

Here where countryside meets city

It’s like being in Limbo

Neither one thing nor the other

Living on the edge of town

In our suburban gardens

We can pretend to be rural

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