Poetry Blog by fiona sinclair
Kenneth Eaton-Dykes on Switching the light back on (Thu, 20 Mar 2014 04:04 pm)
Our temporary two week living together
is wordlessly extended,
as equipped only with electric saw
and uncle’s ancient loppers,
we next tackle the thicket crouching in the back yard
Both middle aged with bad back and balance disorder,
a morning’s work and ‘Early night?’
means we are asleep by 8pm.
I load as fast as you chop
stuff hatchback and estate like suitcases....
Saturday 29th March 2014 4:05 pm
Switching the light back on
Leylandi that once screened a wilderness
of old tyres and compost, are storm toppled.
A Freecyler with an open fire to feed, clears them.
Then you arrive with wellies and work clothes,
ready to take on a garden that has had its own way for years.
Armed by B and Q, you are Russell Crowe in Gladiator,
decapitating plants that have shuttered ...
Thursday 20th March 2014 3:20 pm
A month’s trial…
Attempting to butch up your girly home,
you consign Marilyn cushions to the spare room,
replace boudoir duvets with dark covers.
Underwear entwining in ‘a big wash’,
your vegetarian trolley re-discovers
the meat counter at Tesco’s.
His’ You’re trying too hard’
is drowned out by the vacuum cleaner.
But after years of solitary living,
Saturday 1st February 2014 9:47 am
In the morning she was mother again,
breakfasting gaily on the remaining quarter bottle,
whilst you trekked to ‘the shop’
like a disgruntled wine waiter sent to distant cellars.
Don’t desert me held you hostage in the kitchen,
listening, as she worried at the past, for the first slouched words
that made you want to slap her.
Thursday 25th April 2013 7:46 am
You parade her photos before him,
proof that your mother’s beauty was not a daughter’s delusion.
Side by side in one snap,
He ignores you at 14 unlovely as a juvenile bird,
but ogles her film star pout.
So you are hurled back to that day
she bowled up to college in scarlet sports car,
snatching the gaze of the boy, who had replaced Donnie ...
Sunday 17th February 2013 6:36 pm
In this room where no man has slept for sixty years
since grandfather was banished for snoring,
I exchange embroidered lilac for plain blue.
He chuckles at my spinsterish hot water bottle
companion of an afternoon na...
Tuesday 5th February 2013 9:45 am
Thirty silent clocks;
estate of an elderly man
who hoarded time in his bungalow
until each piece was spent
and he became time bankrupt.
I choose one for its looks,
wind it up like an old fashioned toy,
smile at its resuscitated tick-tock.
But on my mantle piece
it clamours above TV and chat,
raising its voice when I leave the room
Thursday 17th January 2013 9:57 am
Creeping away from bed and favourite thriller,
you must wash your hair, again,
perform yet another make-up legerdemain,
clamp yourself into iron maiden jeans.
At 52, you do not listen for his car’s theme tune
but start to list the weekly shop,
checking clocks you realise he is 30 minutes late,
an old wound’s twinge He has stood you up....
Sunday 23rd December 2012 10:41 am
Aunt and chums over tea and cakes
sifting through ancient snaps
admit my mother’s memory into childhood reminiscences,
the adult years not speaking skirted
like a giant turd.
The sisters’ last ‘Good Bye’, aunt skype waving
from her front window at the woman, in the clapped out Ford,
barely able to lift her cancer co...
Thursday 8th November 2012 9:31 am
At the vets
On the way uncle’s jokes pester our silence
like flies on a wound .
Parking I observe a woman with wag appearance leading
her perky little terrier towards the surgery doors
as if showing it at ‘Crufts’.
We tenderly assist our elderly Airedale off the back seat.
In the waiting room, the woman’s slender body has caught me out,
her pretty fa...
Wednesday 31st October 2012 11:39 am
About your mother’s face.
Now your memory has degraded,
a suspicion that mother’s beauty was overestimated.
Youthful photographs, like early snaps of Marilyn,
offer no clues as to her face’s full potential.
The portrait celebrating her beauty’s climax in middle age
disfigured by melancholy.
Mother was ordinary until class mates informed
Saturday 22nd September 2012 10:35 am
Each Christmas, much like Morecombe and Wise,
your father must top the previous year’s offering:
citrine pendent, emerald ring , white gold watch…….
When he died, mother began to buy her own gifts,
parading down the high street jewelled as a starling.
Forced eventually at bill point to mug herself,
Saturday 22nd September 2012 10:34 am
Earning the house keeping.
Every pay day, your job to prepare
the monstrous honeymoon suite.
Dragging mother’s dead weight mattress into the sitting room
to fashion with squalid sofa cushions a crude double bed,
whilst she woozily opened another bottle.
In the bathroom, grunts and snorts as the lodger attempted
to make appetizing his goblin’...
Saturday 22nd September 2012 10:31 am
How to lose a friend
If we were blokes, the crime would be cancelled
with punch up and pint.
But in a Bluewater coffee shop
your PhD brain sinks too deep a shaft for my shallow poem.
The tribute of Maria Antoinette wedge wood figurine
misinterpreted not as a beauty but a bitch.
I’m a little bit offended grows like an aggressive cancer
in shoe shops as...
Friday 7th September 2012 8:00 am
Artist in residence
Every Sunday, your soap opera’s weekly omnibus ;
winning the council flat,
battling the filth left by a procession of slatternly tenants
like exorcizing a stubborn demon.
So my telephone imagination
expects a plain face to a tuneless voice,
but beside the front door geraniums and herbs cling
to the upper story’s cliff face,
Thursday 2nd August 2012 7:27 pm
Outside the crematorium ,
I am greeted by bullet stares.
Hissed Who is she ?
information sliding from the sides of mouths.
The car park becomes the OK Carral,
my father’s family and I
facing each other like gun slingers.
But cousin Heather breaks ranks
crushing me in a 52 year old orphan’s hug,
the rest of the family stand down...
Sunday 15th July 2012 3:29 pm
Front door ajar, no Jack Russell alarm,
their house has the uncanny air of a crime scene.
‘’We’re all in the living room!’’
Her casual text had suggested coffee and gossip at the kitchen table.
I put on ‘Jolly Fiona’ like a heavy coat and enter,
am a brief comic turn as I reveal with a conjurer’s flourish
my contribution , a ...
Tuesday 12th June 2012 6:54 pm
Leaving a litter of lies behind him,
my father would syphon petrol from a neighbour’s car
like sucking venom from snake bite,
and disappear in his mini pick -up
into the orchards and fields of his office.
Mother was determined to exorcise
the sins of my father from me ,
so caught stealing chocolate biscuits
Thursday 10th May 2012 6:33 pm
Seventeen, he saunters into the gents,
traces of a mate’s joke on his lips.
The two skulking men leer over shoulders
to appraise the boy’s threat.
as if pacifying a pair of dangerous dogs,
he selects the furthest urinal.
But they see the fumbled flies,
smell his sweat
hear his tachycardia and
Wednesday 28th March 2012 1:24 pm
In the waiting area, after Hello, silence;
we are tongue tied by the house rule
never to trespass on the personal, outside.
At 11, the psychotherapist shuts the door on:
cheery smiles donned with coats
for the chatty cashier at the co-op,
an animated I’m fine to family and friends
who roll their eyes at depression’s monotone .
Tuesday 27th March 2012 9:33 am
Friday 9th March 2012 2:41 pm