Ritual

It is a grey morning

I am awake early

The backdoor is open

And cool air enters the kitchen

My father is on his knees

Scrubbing a wire brush

On the fire grate

Newspapers on the floor

He takes a rag

And pours black lead

Onto the stiffened fibres

Then he smears it

Onto the scrubbed surfaces

He balls up the newspaper

And throws it on the hearth

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The Lodger

We let him in

And he stayed

He had been pleading

Out there

Wanting somewhere to stay

At first we thought he was just like all the others

Some fly-by-night who would be here then gone

But no

He wanted to hang around

He was everywhere

Into everything

He made us change our daily routine

He was probably in the kitchen (and we w...

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Immortality Methodology

Always remember -

endings are new beginnings.

Here’s to the future,

where an ending waits for me

while my words live forever.

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